Part 13:
Sandglass

Wow, another chapter that feels interlude-like. My beta told me that it doesn't seem like a filler chapter, since it does advance the plot, but there's still that lingering sensation that she's about to poison my tea... Please, comment on how I'm doing. I require your C&C to survive (a modest request, don't you think?).

There were cool hands on his face. They were soothing. The dull, heated roil in his chest was receding just a bit -- just enough that he thought he might dare to wake.

But no. There would be pain of a different sort if he did that, and he preferred to remain oblivious a while longer; and to contemplate with amusement that fact that he did not know what that pain would be. That was a conscious knowledge, of which his half-dreaming mind was only half-aware. Existence without depth, and answers without questions . . . and no desire for more.

He recognized this feeling. It happened every time he tried to remember his distant past -- every time his mind failed to supply a name or a face or a scent that he ought to know. It usually distressed him, this null-knowledge; now it was only comforting and warm and sinkingly soft.

But the hands were so gentle, as firmly as they held his cheeks between them -- were they familiar?

"Hiei . . .?"

"I'm afraid not."

And he was awake after all. He opened his eyes.

Genkai was kneeling on the floor next to him, and her hands, limned in soft white energy, were not on his face but rather outstretched, and hovered a foot or so from his chest. Her expression seemed to be balanced between irony and concentration as she focused her healing energies on him.

"Master Genkai," Kurama murmured. "My apologies." His face grew ever so slightly hot.

"No need," she replied.

It was darker in here now. It was also quite uncomfortable to be lying as he was, on his side by the wall, with his actual bedding several feet away and no cushioning to soften the floor. He blinked and found his eyelids sticky with sleep-residue; attempting a slight movement, he found it vastly easier than he had when last conscious. He was able to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear without feeling the muscles of his arm tremble with weariness.

"Stop that," Genkai said. "You've been out for a few hours, and it's going to take me another few minutes at least to patch you up the rest of the way. Hold as still as you can -- you really did a number on yourself."

Indeed. He let the arm drop. It was a welcome relief, waking more fully, to feel the pain ebb steadily as she repaired his internal injuries, slowly so as to conserve her energy but still at a noticeable pace. He felt an abrupt twinge of instinctive alarm -- he couldn't recall the last time someone else had healed him of anything -- he was usually wont to do it himself, using plants to aid him. But he calmed it with the assurance that Genkai could be trusted at least in this, as a former ally, for the moment.

"How long has it been since the fight?" he asked her quietly. His memory of it was returning swiftly, and as he recalled more, he was able to sift out the things that were perplexing him.

"Less than a day," was the immediate answer. "You were brought here at around midnight or so."

He gave over a moment to being nonplused before saying, "That seems a very short interval, given my rate of recovery. I was expecting three days or more." Yet another oddity. A wound such as mine, mostly healed in under a day? Improbable; even Genkai and Yukina working together should have been hard-pressed to do that in two. Though I suppose it depends on exactly what it is that Yuusuke did -- it nearly cost him his own life, so it was most likely something innovative and drastic.

Genkai made a very Hiei-like sound through her nose. "Not going to ask me directly? I can tell you anything you want to know. In fact, I'd rather I be the one to talk for the moment and not you; it'll only slow things down if you do too much during the last part of the healing, and I can get everything out of the way immediately and take questions afterwards."

Kurama smiled crookedly. "Point, and my apologies once again. Please do."

"Thank you. Do you want the long version, or the short one?"

"Short, please."

"Good, that was my choice as well. Here it is: you were injured, Yuusuke got you out of the fight, Kuwabara and Botan came for Yukina, Botan called Koenma, Kuwabara and Botan and Yukina tried to heal you, Yuusuke was dimwitted, Kuwabara tried to save him, Koenma arrived just in time to save your life and the dimwit's, and they brought you both back here for more healing." She considered. "Touya also arrived this morning. Seems Koenma's been busy recruiting when he's not playing the hero."

He let his eyes go a bit wide, and did not answer, as requested. That (although definitely short) was a lot to assimilate, but the steady relief of his pain was an extensive help, and his mind latched onto one point almost immediately. Koenma. This is thoroughly unexpected.

A surge of anger traversed his chest, which drained some of the expression from his eyes and made Genkai quirk an eyebrow, from whom it would have been impossible to hide the reaction at this range. To have been saved by the prince of Reikai, given all that had passed, would have been among his last choices, shortly behind selecting death. To actually owe him even more than before was not acceptable. Even securing Hiei's disposition following the artifacts incident had not been an easy concession, and he had been the one to request leniency, rather than having no choice in the matter as with now.

Respecting his anger, Genkai did not remark on it. Waiting a full minute while she continued her healing, she said instead, on a tangential subject, "In case you're wondering, Yuusuke tried to give you all of his life energy to keep you alive when it looked like Kuwabara, Yukina and Botan were going to fail. Almost killed all of you -- which is why he's a moron this time around." She scooted out from the wall a bit, giving him room to lie on his back, which he did at her gentle tug on his sleeve. "As for the demon, she didn't follow any of you when you ran away, and Kuwabara, who was the last one to see her, isn't sure where she went. No one was really paying much attention since you were bleeding all over them. Does that cover everything? You can talk now, if you'd like, since I'm mostly done with your ribcage."

"It -- does indeed." Did he have any further questions? His head was already spinning with the information he'd been given, and he supposed not. Except that none of it made sense --

Well, that wasn't true. It did make sense; it was merely highly implausible. Especially that Touya, lately of the Dark Tournament Shinobi, had been pressed into service. What could Koenma possibly have offered him? And why is it this that mystifies me, when I ought to be wondering about Koenma's involvement in my rescue?

And he found that he had hit upon a question after all. "If I may ask, why did Botan and Kuwabara join in the healing? It's not their expertise, and I would think their help would have been negligible."

"That's right," replied Genkai, "I forgot you didn't know about the ice village." She had lost her smile.

Kurama got just a little cold.

"It was destroyed yesterday morning. Yukina and six other women survived; they're here now. Kuwabara is tending them now that he's slept some."

The cold spread across his throat, and down, as if he had swallowed it. So he had caused more destruction than he had hoped. And that was why the youkai were at home, he knew. They had just returned empty-handed from the village, and were discussing their plans for later. And the obvious truth, which he had suspected when he spied on his enemies but not wanted to believe: I am responsible for the near-extinction of a people -- and there's nothing to stop Gendou and Donari from wreaking more havoc now that I have failed to stop them.

"That was why the other two were helping," the old woman continued over his marked silence. "Yukina had extremely little power left, since they pulled her directly from here after she'd exhausted it all and then only had a few hours' sleep. At that point, every little boost was necessary."

"She's all right?" he inquired automatically.

"Yes. Sleeping now, fortunately."

He loosed a sigh of relief that was not entirely steady. As the tally of his transgressions continued to grow, confirming his friends' safety would go far towards helping him remain resolute. It occurred to him suddenly that he could search them out with his energy now that he was mostly healed -- although weak, he was able to get a faint reading on several of them right away. Yuusuke was dreadfully weak, but uninjured; and Yukina was the same. That odd but slightly familiar ki must be Touya's . . . and that was as far as his senses extended in his current state. But Kuwabara was well enough to be watching over patients, at least, so he could assume the human had been minimally injured.

At least they've remained safe, he thought, and felt instantly guilty for it. How could he feel at all relieved, when he considered what he had brought about?

"Thank you for telling me," he said finally. "I will have more questions later; right now I need to think."

Genkai gave a nod. "I'll continue with a few more details while I've got time. Here's one for you -- are you aware that you were dead when Koenma arrived?" she asked him conversationally. "Your heart had stopped, your breathing had ceased, and your youki had all but dissipated. Poor Kuwabara had to choose between keeping your heart going -- he was using ki bolts to do that, by the way -- and saving that idiot Yuusuke; since Botan and Yukina were still trying to work on you, he chose Yuusuke." She shifted her healing pressure to his face for a moment, stopping him from responding. "It was a good thing he did, too, since it wouldn't have made any difference to stay with you. Botan and Yukina were both low on power, but even if they'd been at full strength, your injuries were too severe, and the wait was too long." Her gaze was ironic. "In other words, you were a goner."

"I was aware of that the moment I was hit," Kurama answered as she took her hands from his cheekbones, having repaired many of the bruises that Yuusuke's slaps had inflicted as well as his bitten cheek. "It was . . . startling to wake and discover I had been wrong."

"Trust me, you weren't wrong. You were beyond normal resuscitation, but Koenma's power over souls kept yours in place just long enough to restart your body. It took a good chunk out of his power to repair you enough so that you wouldn't just die again immediately after he stopped -- and after that, he shoved Kuwabara off of Yuusuke and pumped him full of the rest." Genkai gave his arm a push. "Move over and lie on your stomach, I'm almost finished."

He complied. "I see. Yuusuke will not be pleased to learn that." Not any more than I am.

"That's why we aren't telling him for the moment. As far as he knows, Kuwabara saved him before Koenma got there." Her eyes pierced the back of his skull. "He's upset enough already."

"And will you lecture me, too?" Kurama let his voice acquire just a bit of the chill it had possessed during his last encounter with Yuusuke. "I am perfectly aware that I was clumsy."

" 'Clumsy' isn't the word for it. 'Negligent' is closer, but also inadequate." The words were still light and casual to counterbalance their content. "Why don't we start with 'irresponsible'?"

The fox was very silent for a moment. "I will not discuss this with you."

"Fine." He felt her shrug. "Why don't you start with 'irresponsible', then. You'll have plenty of time to think about it for the next day or so, since you're confined to bed rest as of now and until I say otherwise. While I'm aware that my orders mean nothing to you, if you're half as intelligent as you've always seemed, you'll do what I tell you anyway."

"Yes," he said shortly. "You are a healer, while I am not, and I am beholden to your generous hospitality." His tone was clipped and precise and devoid of emotion.

"Glad to hear it," was her sarcastic rejoinder. She was rising to depart. "If you need anything, tell Yukina; she'll be nearby once she's awake. That means, don't need anything until tomorrow. I'll send Kuwabara in with dinner."

"Hai."

x . o . x . o . x . o . x

Yuusuke was in the torpid midst of what he knew had to be a dream -- in very few other scenarios was Kuwabara clothed in a red jumpsuit and begging him to ride a motorcycle into Genkai's temple. Being aware that this was a dream, and being also fine with that, he went along with it for the most part. He had never yet gotten to ride a motorcycle anyway, so that was kind of nice to experience, although he rather doubted that most bikes had a large blue eye instead of a headlight.

But he was speeding along well enough, dodging through rooms and around furniture, and when he realized he was heading for a particular room on the east side of the building, he almost didn't have time to stop before he ran into the closed door --

And just as he gripped the brakes in white-knuckled hands, bracing for impact, Hiei appeared right in front of him.

He yelped, and stopped so suddenly that he was catapulted over the handlebars. But he didn't hit Hiei or the door; he landed in the grass beneath a large tree, and it failed to hurt any. He also managed to be suddenly on his feet without actually having to get up. Well, this was a dream, so that made sense. So he was outside again -- maybe that meant he would be training or something. But this wasn't the temple grounds anymore, though it was familiar.

"Pay attention, fool."

Oh. Hiei was still there. Would this be another of those dreams where he was running, and Yuusuke was supposed to catch him? He hoped not. He hated those dreams. They made him wake in cold sweat, with a lump in his throat, and he couldn't count the number of times they had happened in the last week or so. Sometimes more than once a night --

"Hn. Isn't this a waste of time. I ought to have known you'd be an imbecile asleep as well as awake." Hiei was glaring at him as he always used to do, with just the right amount of disgusted vexation. He didn't look like he was going to run away this time . . .

"Hiei?"

"Well don't you deserve a prize," was the acrid response. "Who else would I be?"

"Well, no one else, I guess."

"Perfect. You've identified me. Good for you."

This was feeling less and less like a dream by the minute as he realized Hiei was talking to him. People in dreams usually talked at him, and he could understand them but not really hear them. This was different -- and he realized quite suddenly why that must be.

"You're really you, aren't you?" he asked wonderingly, experiencing an array of feelings that he could not untangle. He was pretty sure this was impossible -- but unless he wanted to believe this was another figment, he had to accept it.

The compact demon had an opaque expression now, having lost his irritation as Yuusuke spoke, and now eyed the Tantei with a lancing stare. "You're more confused than I thought, detective," he said. "Though I'm amused by your feelings towards me. I suppose you're going to get sentimental any minute now."

"How do you know what I'm feeling about anything?" Yuusuke asked, taken aback. "I don't even think I know."

"I'm in your dream, you buffoon," and a bit of bad temper returned to the words, "and you're broadcasting like a beacon. It's pathetic how much control you've lost for simply being asleep."

"Hey, don't insult me," said Yuusuke, aggrieved.

"Then I suggest you tighten your defenses before you deafen me. You don't have the excuse of inexperience for letting your shields drop like this." Hiei pointed at him to emphasize his words. "With what you're going to be facing, you can't afford to let them down for even a moment, and especially not when you're unconscious, or you're going to meet a messy end." He returned the arm to his side, and slipped both hands into his pockets. "But that's not why I'm here."

By this time, Yuusuke was feeling aware enough for the first stirrings of anger to wake, and he did not respond, waiting for his visitor to continue. It finally felt like a real encounter; and he finally recognized his surroundings. This was the clearing in the park where he usually did his training, when he didn't do it at the temple. Usually the world didn't fade out into rosy fog fifty feet from the center, but he was certain enough of the location for it to affect him in a number of ways. None of them were pleasant -- not when he recalled what Koenma had told him about Hiei's suicide.

Hiei, apparently expecting him to speak, twitched an eyebrow and continued, "I'm here to tell you that Kurama is to be left alone. You've made your point, and if he doesn't figure it out from that, I'll make it clear to him." The youkai grimaced then. "You're nearly as addled as he is, you know. Neither of you has the ability to think properly, an ability you'll be needing soon enough, and until you've regained it, you'll only complicate matters by speaking to each other."

Oh, that was a bad subject for him to have brought up. Yuusuke's anger found a new depth, and a new focus -- where the hell did Hiei get off telling him what to do, after what he had done? Fresh emotional wounds, newly-exposed from his fight with Kurama (stupid, stupid bastard, trying to get himself killed just like Hiei), bolstered his rage back to its previous height, and he gritted his teeth against an unintended response that he was certain would border on cruelty.

"Shut up!" was all his mind would substitute.

The Jaganshi flinched back, squinting as if in a bright light. "What did I tell you about your shields, fool?" he snapped. "You're probably visible to every youkai within ten miles who has a shred of telepathy, and your allies with you!"

And that was all he needed to throw aside all prohibitions against that cruelty. "It hasn't exactly been a walk in the park for any of us since you offed yourself," Yuusuke yelled angrily, "so stop getting all superior about my self-control!"

He evidently managed to surprise Hiei with this; the crimson eyes widened for a fraction of a second before Hiei's expression cloaked itself behind indifference. "Hn. I should have expected this. Well, do you have anything else to say to me before we return to our real business?"

"How the hell could you let us all down like that?" Yuusuke barely let him finish speaking before beginning a tirade that was long overdue, and one he had thought he'd never have the chance to release. As with his confrontation with Kurama, he knew that if he didn't shout, he would cry -- and he didn't know if he'd be able to stop once he started. "I'm your friend, and you couldn't even tell me there was something wrong! You weren't around enough for me to even guess!"

"Did that energy dump take your brains along with it?" the youkai said disgustedly. "That was the whole point. If I'd wanted you to know, I'd have shown up at your door with a sign." He rolled his eyes expressively. "Ningen."

Yuusuke saw red. "You son of a bitch, you're just like Kurama is -- too selfish to give a damn about the rest of us! You probably planned it even before Kurama left, didn't you? And I thought we trusted each other!"

Hiei was very suddenly, very angry. "Do not insult me like that again, detective! I'm not a spineless human weakling, to take my own life on a whim!"

"Well you're a spineless something, 'cause that's what you did!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Hiei snarled. "I did nothing of the sort!"

"Then why the hell would you do that?!"

"If you must know, it wasn't entirely intentional!"

Yuusuke stiffened all the way from his heels to the nape of his neck, and he stared at Hiei, words completely lost to him in shock. He couldn't even think. His mind stuttered, producing only half-articulated fragments that in no way even resembled coherent thoughts. His emotions, on the other hand, were in a frenzied flux that he had no trouble interpreting -- his anger had flipped upside-down in an instant, and been joined by guilt, bitterness, and the now-familiar pain he was coming realize would never leave him.

That had never occurred to him as even a possibility. He had always assumed Hiei had been too close to Kurama, and had chosen to die rather than continue without him. It had even made sense -- on probation as was, Hiei had been forbidden from straying too far into the Makai, and been all but confined to the Ningenkai when not on assignment, so Kurama had been his only close friend. Yuusuke knew that without his friends -- had he lost the last person about whom he cared -- but that wasn't what had happened.

His furious anguish was abruptly free-floating, robbed it of its focus, a morass of emotion that threatened to crush him underneath it.

Hiei, having also lost his brief hold on anger, now looked as sour as though he'd bitten a lemon. "Are we through with this subject now, or do I have to go into detail?"

"I --" Yuusuke swallowed. "I didn't know that."

"Of course you didn't. Don't be an idiot." Hiei eyed him. "I have several more things to say. I trust you're in the mood to listen to them now?"

All he could do was nod.

"Then I won't waste time. Understand: Kurama is a fool, but he didn't become one without reason. It will be necessary for you to keep him focused until the danger has passed."

"What do you mean?"

Hiei sighed, irked. "You, detective Yuusuke Urameshi, are a singularly dense individual who ought to have given up trying to understand youkai a long time ago. I can see I'll have to spell it out for you."

"Hey," Yuusuke warned. "Lay off. It's not your business."

"He told his mother the truth, you know. She sent him away."

Yuusuke lost his breath for a moment. "She what?"

Hiei glared at him. "I shouldn't have to repeat myself. She sent him away, and told him he was not her son. He has no place in your world now."

Oh, was all the boy's mind could generate. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Kurama cared for very little else as he cared for his mother. He had been willing to die for her the day Yuusuke had met him, and several times after that. It was only because of his mother that he had learned how to be human, and how to truly care for someone else.

And now Kurama was alone: he was dead as far as anyone in the Ningenkai was aware, and the Reikai was closed to him unless he came back as a Tantei, which left even Botan out of his reach. He couldn't very well live as Hiei had lived, hiding in trees by day, skulking atop buildings and down alleys by night. Even if he stayed with Yuusuke, he'd never be able to leave the residence, to avoid questions about his merely being alive.

He no longer had a home in the Ningenkai, and would not have one again.

It was so painfully clear, so huge and bright and obvious, that he couldn't believe he hadn't managed to figure it out on his own. He had accused Kurama of not caring whether he lived or died, but he had never realized how close to the truth he had come.

"Are you getting the picture now, detective? You ningen are so slow, I never can tell."

Oh, indeed, he got the picture. He had worked it out in his head a long time ago, the first time he had wondered what might happen when Kurama told his mother the truth about his past. He had worked it all out -- but it was now that another thought became clear: He never meant to tell her. Ever. This whole thing forced him to, and now he's lost her because of it.

I am going to kill Koenma. And I am going to do it slowly.

"Good. I see you are. I'm here because you're not going to see me again; I required of Koenma the opportunity to combat your idiocy one final time. Don't expect me back, and if you're going to hate the toddler, pick another reason -- he had nothing to do with it. Try to keep Kurama from risking his fool neck again, and keep the oaf away from my sister. Have a nice life."

Hiei was making as if to go, and Yuusuke broke out into a wordless, spluttering protest that made him turn, looking supremely irritated. "What is it now? I don't have time for a tearful goodbye, you know."

"But -- where are you going?" was all Yuusuke could manage.

"How should I know? Not all of us botch dying so badly that we get sent back. I'm going where I'm going, and I don't really care where it is."

Yuusuke nodded tightly, aware that another few seconds would bring tears to the surface. "I hope where you end up doesn't piss you off too much."

"Hn. Indeed."

Hiei's eyes, curiously limpid and full of an emotion Yuusuke had never seen before and could not understand, were the last he saw of the dream as it petered out into formless nothing, and he was awake.

x . o . x . o . x . o . x

Filthy, blood-spattered and half-blinded by a blow to the head, she lay very still, unwilling even to test whether she was able to rise again. She could smell her own blood in the dirt under her claws, and the dead around her as well for yards. She could smell none still living, in fact -- but she had not expected to.

But she did smell the attackers; heard them speaking, and was able to brace herself for impact as they drew close. With her whiskers mostly burned away, she couldn't tell how far away they were exactly, but it didn't matter. They would kill her easily enough from any distance. That they were approaching only meant they would take more pleasure in it.

She was lifted from the ground. She saw spots, then flashes of light, and then the dust-filmed ruins of her village -- and the woman that held her by her tattered shirt, with those cold silver eyes beneath sea-green hair. And the demoness was speaking.

"This one is still alive. You may have her. She is all you will receive, until you have redeemed yourself sufficiently; I suggest you guard her well."

"I will," rumbled the rocky voice of the second demon, just out of sight to one side. "Heal her for me?"

"Indeed. She'd hardly be of any use otherwise."

Vitality was coursing back into her body, accompanied by a strange violet glow, tinged with gold. Her head cleared, her aches dissipated, and her abrasions sealed themselves, all within no more than three breaths. And, still immobile and suspended in the air, she was thrust to one side, and dumped on her tail.

Looking up without meaning to, she had her first clear look at the person who was to "receive" her.

The yellowish monster grinned at her. "You'll do."

x . o . x . o . x . o . x

Sitting alone in the room allotted him, Koenma nursed a cup of tea far past warmth, letting his thoughts run rampant and gloomy and uncomprehended until they passed from him in due time. He didn't care. It was comforting, to let his mind empty of all that had happened in the last day, and spend some time in reflections of a deeper sort.

As long as he was going to be alone, he might as well search for a way to live with his only company.

It was difficult. He had never been one to over-analyze. Things were seldom other than they appeared to be -- at least in his life and work, where everyone appeared in vulnerability and loss and looked to him to give them what future they deserved. He carefully pulled strings, always to an intended effect, and very little was unanticipated or could not be accounted for by one of his myriad backup contingencies. Not since he had created the Orb, six centuries ago, had circumstances been completely out of his control.

Until Yuusuke.

He had not had a team for several decades -- had managed demon mischief with the odd agent on call. His recruitment of the temerarious young boy had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, actuated by some inner planning circuit that instinctively knew he would be necessary. This was a predictable cycle, in fact; oftentimes there would be a staccato splurge of disasters over several months, requiring a dreadfully talented squad to squash events into complacency. Following that, there would be years upon years of nothing at all. Petty demons and petty crimes and no need for outside help. And without fail, he would always have someone on hand when he needed that outside help once again -- if not from Japan, then from whatever country managed to produce an adequate candidate. Most of the decent prospects happened to be Japanese, for reasons that were not clear to him.

Sure enough, Yuusuke's appointment had directly preceeded the theft of some negligently guarded and extraordinarily insidious (and priceless) items from his very own vault. And thus the other members had entered his employ, and he'd been rewarded with the full team he hadn't had for so very long.

Then had come the Four Beasts of Youma fiasco (the team's first joint venture), the discovery of Yukina's kidnapping, the subsequent threat from the Toguro brothers, and the mad plan of a mad gambler that had died when his last bet failed to pan out. After that, he had begun to suspect that the rash of pending catastrophes was over, as months had gone by with only minor youkai needing to be captured for wreaking minor annoyance.

Now the most dire threat of any had come to challenge him in his state of complacency -- and it was, in an irony that had not escaped his awareness, something that his team had immediately failed to handle for all their strength and skill. Not that it had been their fault. As had been so clearly pointed out to him, they could have easily managed it had he given them the opportunity to understand fully from the beginning. Everything that had taken place, had done so at his own fumbling pull of strings he had once controlled with ease.

If he had yet damaged circumstances beyond repair, this would not be the first time he had lost a team. They seldom stayed around once the boredom set in, and their own lives became more interesting and important than their negligible service; like a corps in peacetime, they demanded their leave. He seldom had the heart to call them back -- had rarely found it necessary, as new talents were perpetually crossing his desk. Someone was always willing, although often for a price, to perform whatever dangerous task would bail the world out for another few years or so. This would be the same, which ought to be (but miserably failed as) a comfort.

He was very familiar with this process, and learning from hard experience, he had always carefully avoided becoming attached to any particular individuals, so that by now he could recall no names any longer from among the formless morass of temporary employees. Yuusuke had begun the same way. He had watched with a near-callous indifference as the inexperienced detective had been nearly killed by Suzaku, and his only thought had been for the mission, as was appropriate for one in his position. When that attitude had changed was a mystery to him. At some point during the Tournament was his best guess.

Perhaps it had been the grief Yuusuke had displayed at Genkai's murder, or his resiliency in the face of overwhelming defeat, that had changed him from a useful, powerful tool into a real person. Or -- perhaps it was that he was so much like Sachi had been.

Sachi, who had been Koenma's first Tantei, and his first mistake.

This team was nearly a mirror of that one, albeit with one additional member, as well as Botan assisting now and again (a brilliant idea, that; it made for more versatile manipulation of events). Kurama was the gentle but occasionally ruthless Yamato; Hiei, the abrasive and domineering Noboro. Kuwabara filled a supporting role that failed to overshadow the similarities, especially given that the same agent of circumstance which had broken apart that team of long ago -- catalyzed by his own actions -- promised to destroy this one in like manner. The past echoed forward and broke down his painstaking defenses even now, and he had taken no time at all to revert and become the inept and naive kami who had first taken charge of the Reikai at barely a century old.

History really does repeat itself. And I thought that was just an expression.

But he had no excuse -- none whatsoever -- to have let this happen. He was no longer that young; he was nearly eight hundred, with enough administrative experience to have not only foreseen these circumstances, but steered clear of them like plague. It would have been easy. Just a trifle of clear thought, attention to the minutia, and the retention of his ability to trust -- which he knew he still possessed at odd moments.

"Hn. Not likely."

The acrid comment caught him off-guard, and he lifted his head from his supporting hands, looking back over his shoulder to behold Hiei perched on thin air not two feet behind his head.

He was not up to countering the hi youkai's acerbity at the moment. He turned back to the wall scroll he'd been staring through. "Been to see Yuusuke yet?" he inquired. Maybe if he got that subject out of the way quickly, Hiei would depart.

"Yes. The detective had very little to say. Hn," Hiei snorted, "very little of any intelligence, anyway."

"And Kurama?"

"Not yet."

Good, Koenma thought with marked relief. This will be short. "Then he didn't try to get himself killed?"

"He did. He'll be dealt with."

Even better. "All right, then. I'll tell Genkai, and she'll get the full story out of Yuusuke later. Now can you leave me alone?" Please, please leave me alone. I'd rather keep my thoughts to myself.

"Not quite yet. I have a few questions myself."

"What you have, is a flagrant disregard for my mental privacy. I'll thank you to reign in your telepathy in my presence." That ought to be pithy enough that Hiei would appreciate the point.

A silence. "Hn. You sound like Kurama. Very well, then. What do you intend to do about this situation?"

So he wasn't going to go away. Koenma might as well answer him. "I'm not really sure. It depends on what my resources are, and whether or not they'll function as expected. Your Jagan, for instance," and his tone became penetrating, "has the potential to be a very interesting resource." He turned to face Hiei again. "Do you have any idea why it's active?"

Hiei appeared nettled, and looked away briefly. "I don't know, and I don't care."

"Haven't you wondered, though?" Koenma persisted. "It's an absolutely unique phenomenon, you know. It's been letting you know when your teammates are in danger, which has been letting me know, incidentally."

"It's been doing nothing of the sort," Hiei snapped. "I haven't felt a twinge out of it about those ningen idiots."

"So it's just been Kurama, then?" Intriguing. Oh, wait. "And Yukina?"

A dreadfully sour look crossed the Jaganshi's features, making him look almost petulant. "I don't see as it's really your concern."

"Of course it is," Koenma snapped. "You're under my jurisdiction, for all that I've managed to bungle your sentencing more than once already. It's my job to find out what's making impossible things possible."

"You never answered my question," Hiei said angrily, diverting the subject. His arms were crossed over his chest, his chin tucked under just a trifle.

"I've answered it as well as you have any right to expect. Now leave me alone if you're not feeling cooperative."

"Hn. Fine then." Hiei kicked off the the air and shot through the wall without further speech. Koenma imagined he saw a little smoke-trail remaining to mark his passage.

Sighing a resonant sigh, the ex-ruler of Reikai let his posture droop, making his neck realize that he'd stiffened it into soreness and demand to be stretched. He complied, irritated in the extreme. He knew he was the only one to whom Hiei could speak directly, but that didn't make it any more enjoyable to be ambushed with terse conversations, with someone he did not like and who reciprocated in kind. Koenma would be excessively glad to get this situation resolved, and Hiei's disposition decided. With that pleasant future firmly in mind, he deliberately returned to thinking, with one corner of his senses now looking out for any more meddling sanjiyans with unexplained telepathy.

But it nagged at him -- how had that happened? This would indeed require some thought, and he set aside his brooding to address it. Things like that were obviously impossible, but just as obviously, Hiei had managed it. While he was used to his Tantei surprising him, as most of those he recruited for the job were mavericks or misfits, he was growing rather tired of having to puzzle out the intricacies of situations that the Tantei themselves had no interest in solving. Kurama would have loved this conundrum, but he would have been the only one. Everyone else operated under the rather base philosophy of "It works, so who cares how?"

He laid out his information in a neat mental line. The Jagan eye itself gave Hiei several abilities, his telepathy among them, and had its own limited awareness; it had been implanted relatively recently, around a year and a half ago; he had employed it in various inventive and unorthodox ways, such as binding the Kokuryuha to himself; he had used its capabilities seldom except at need, and his only major undertakings with its help had been finding his sister, the Kokuryuha, and a spate of scouting missions a few months back.

That covered the basics. The specifics were: it had first glowed when Hiei was unresponsive in his cell, and again (a different color) when he had woken; it had apparently told him that Kurama was in danger not once but twice, and that Yukina had been in trouble as well; it appeared to have limited telepathic abilities remaining; it allowed him to somehow control fire despite having no physical youki.

That was a pile of facts that seemed to have very little cohesion. Impossibility upon impossibility, all stacking atop the single fact of that Jagan being active. It couldn't possibly be sustaining itself, so where was it getting its power? And why was it telling him things about Kurama and Yukina when they couldn't be connected in any way to --

Oh.

Sudden understanding made Koenma's neck rigid again, sending the pain of a pinched nerve down the length of his spine. It made so much sense -- was so very appallingly logical -- that he was all but stunned, his mind unfolding deductions at a speed that made his temples ache.

The Jagan wasn't sustaining itself. It was linked to Yukina and Kurama, and they were powering the thing without even being aware of it -- that was why it was alerting Hiei when they were in trouble. Since they were the only two with which Hiei had shared his telepathy more than passingly, it had apparently established permanent ties to them without anyone being aware of it. And since its primitive consciousness must somehow have fused with Hiei's soul (he'd work out that one later), it had managed to keep his telepathic connections active even without his body.

That was the only way -- absolutely the only way -- to account for it. He felt stupid for not having put it together before; when it couldn't be powering itself, it had to be powered by outside sources. Telepathy was complicated and largely misunderstood, and should therefore have been his first area of exploration when more mundane things failed to explain the problem.

He chewed his lip. Did Kurama and Yukina realize their power was being siphoned off? Or was the drain so negligible that even Kurama had been unaware? Of course -- if he knew, he'd have done something about it (and for that matter, so would Hiei). There were two of them linked to the Jagan, so it was entirely possible that they felt no loss of energy whatsoever.

And, Koenma further realized, that strange linkage accounted for a great many otherwise inexplicable things.

Hiei's bizarre behavior, for instance, both before and after his death. This was a much better explanation for his suicide than the theory that he had merely failed to cope. It seemed everyone had done Hiei a disservice by assuming that, especially taking into account that he had spent his entire life doing nothing but cope with abandonment and loss and ought to have been pretty damned good at it.

What had happened was dreadfully simple: the Jagan had been aware that Kurama was alive, but Hiei had been told he was not. Koenma had planned that encounter well, he recalled with new depths of guilt; the news had come from Hiei's own teammates, whom he trusted as much as he trusted anyone, and been reinforced by the ruthless and well-timed application of logical-sounding circumstantial evidence. Hiei would otherwise have demanded proof, and gone out to find it when it was not provided, but the lie had been executed well enough to bypass his natural suspicion. The internal conflict was not hard to imagine, given that: the conscious knowledge with its basis in logic, and the instinctive knowledge with roots in emotion and telepathy.

After all the training through which he had put himself to ensure that his analytical nature alone was of import, the Jaganshi had been completely unable to listen to the empathic message, and yet it was part of his mind on an unconscious level and therefore could not be ignored. Hiei hadn't been born with that Jagan, or he might have been able to comprehend what it had been telling him -- but implants like that were tricky, and almost impossible to understand or control completely. The push-pull must have been driving him stark mad for weeks. His already obsessive nature would have turned the feedback into a mental loop that had rendered it virtually impossible for him to think of anything else besides Kurama (in some form) for more than a few minutes at a time, as the Jagan relentlessly tried to convince him he was mistaken.

Add that to the fact that Kurama and Hiei had been, for youkai at least, extremely close; and his marked tendency towards emotional denial -- under that sort of duress, Koenma himself would have been driven to something drastic in considerably less time than three weeks. The level of sheer mental discipline it must have taken to hold out that long was staggering to contemplate.

The sanjiyan's temporary mental breakdown in lockup also made sense now. The sudden resolution of that conflict had amplified his emotions -- hence his initial shock-reaction -- and then yanked him into the link, as his conscious mind surrendered the pressure, like deliberately losing a tug of war. That explained why he had managed to withdraw into himself like that (souls were not given to that sort of thing in the least), and why his Jagan had been glowing -- blue, was it? -- at the time. And he had come out of the trance, stable again, with the certainty that Kurama was not only alive, but in danger. A better understanding of the link after having been immersed in it, perhaps? Hence his further certainty of Yukina's peril, coinciding with the village massacre, though Koenma hadn't known she'd been there, and of Kurama's.

And the fire -- mustn't forget the fire. That one was harder to figure out . . . but there were a few things that might account for it. If the Jagan was pulling power from outside sources to keep itself active, it might be pulling extra energy and making it available for Hiei's direct use. Either that, or it had enough by-product energy from simply being awake that the relatively simple manipulation of fire was possible to sustain. Not that Hiei probably had any inkling where that power was coming from, nor was it likely that he cared as long as it didn't dry up when he was using it.

Koenma was positively dizzy. It seemed everything had an explanation. He hardly even noticed that he had nibbled most of the way through his lower lip as he realized he really had gotten Hiei killed, in a much more direct way than he (and everyone else) had thought. The youkai failing to cope would have been an unfortunate happenstance that Koenma had not foreseen, but it appeared that the single lie he'd told had had drastically far-reaching effects. That he had been equally ignorant of the telepathic link made little difference.

He was quite, quite confident that he was not going to tell Hiei any of this. But he was equally certain that Kurama deserved to know. Koenma got up, and left the room.

He was intercepted.

x . o . x . o . x . o . x

After Genkai was gone, Kurama breathed in deeply, relinquishing his carefully-controlled emotions in several long exhalations. Here was the pain he had expected, and indeed of several differing kinds. Anger and remorse mixed to hurt fully as much as any mortal wound -- of which he had experienced two, and so he ought to know.

Well, he was youko. As such, there was no reason he had to accept this feeling meekly. There were few things that he could not suppress if he chose, given enough time, though the last week's dangers had precluded the attempt. He felt immensely better after that healing session, reducing the distractions that might impede his relaxation technique -- draining off his negative emotions, leaving his mind free for unimpeded thought, required a certain level of concentration. He would use his time best in lucid planning, with not a moment wasted.

Deep breathing, the loosening of every muscle in succession, and the reduction of his ki output to a steady, low-frequency wave left his emotions floating free, easily managed for as long as he chose to remain tranced. This was something he dared try only when assured of utter safety -- and the temple was as close as he would get for a while. When he had nothing left to obturate him, he lined up his thoughts and began to strike them down like targets.

Point one: he was alive. He was mostly healed, even. Outliving one's plans was never a good thing, which led into point two: he needed to rapidly restructure his assumptions to allow for this new situation. This might be accomplished by the subsequent points.

Point three: Yuusuke had dropped from the status of 'friend' to 'tentative ally'. That was something of which to be very aware when he set up his new strategy. Adjunct to this were the statuses of his other compatriots -- unknown (Botan), and probably all right (Kuwabara). Touya was an interesting unknown quantity, and Koenma an unexpected and intriguing addition. Yukina was to be discounted; she would be ill equipped for anything besides healing, and not on the battlefield. As a backup medic, however, she would prove invaluable -- as would Touya in a pinch. Freezing a wound would go far towards slowing bleeding and preventing maximum trauma to the area of impact. Koenma's capabilities had not been disclosed, although they appeared to include some unique power over souls, a fact that was not, in retrospect, any surprise at all. If things took a turn for the worst, he might be talked into a rescue similar to the one he had performed to revive Kurama himself.

All of this was pivotal only light of point four: Donari and Gendou were still alive and powerful, albeit separated. They would still need to be dealt with -- hence his cataloging of his allies. His assets were they, and his plants. He ought to have another of those ferns in seed, or something enough like them to reasonably be attributed the same effect. He could try a combination, to account for all the possible chemicals that could have caused the reaction; this would bear some careful sorting.

Tactics would be crucial now that the enemy knew his strengths and weaknesses as well as he knew theirs. Yuusuke's power, Kuwabara's unpredictability, and Kurama's own cunning would need to be blended in a studied configuration, quite unlike the haphazard battle that had landed him here, if they wanted any favorable odds at winning. Touya's finesse would help to a fair degree as well. As would Genkai, in several capacities -- but she would be unlikely to join the fight itself, which was probably wise of her, since she was the primary healer.

But this was not something he could work out alone. Clever as he liked to imagine he was, he could not account for everything without input; he would need other viewpoints to cover his ineluctable blind spots. Aware of this, he set his half-developed plans aside until such time as he could call together the rest of them for talk.

Point five: was there a point five? He supposed that it was probably a review of his own motivations, insofar as both Yuusuke and Genkai (in vasty differing ways) had asked him to think on them.

As angry as he was, and as certain of his position, he would be remiss not to give Yuusuke's accusations at least some consideration. They seemed to boil down to one concept: that Kurama had been intentionally attempting to bring about his own death.

His mind trod the paths of implication simply out of habit. What, it surmised, if I am wrong, and Yuusuke is right? Have I been seeking death, and denying it even to myself?

It was a troubling notion; true, although, that he had felt obligated to give his life in payment of his debt to Hiei, even as he still owed it also to Yuusuke. A life demanded a life in trade, and no less. It was only because Yuusuke had clearly wanted him to live that he had striven for survival. Even that had slipped several times during the Tournament, as necessity blended with obligation had overruled his friend's desire. This did not mean that he had necessarily been driven by it on an subconscious level, however -- it was very much a deliberate moral code, one that he had developed over more than ten years, as his human identity had begun to submerge the youko in him.

Few things had carried through. Honor had remained, in its own twisted way, and a certain ruthlessness that fueled most of his battle-oriented ethics, but until becoming human he had never incorporated or possessed the qualities of mercy, guilt or compassion.

He had also never felt self-hatred.

Kurama had known of this quality within himself since his fight with Touya (though he had suspected it ever since the Mirror of Darkness had nearly taken him), as he watched the idealistic demon struggle for what mattered more to him than his own life -- an ideal, the light that Kurama had stolen for himself in his desperation to survive, and that had given him a truer insight into what he was than a thousand years of life in the Makai. He had wondered then if he could ever atone for the violent and cruel nature of his being, and if that nature would even allow him to try.

Upon reflection, he recognized that emotion as one of the many he had been feeling over the last three days. He had good enough reason. He had, by obeying orders that had served to protect only him, failed to protect Hiei from himself. His mother had despised him as he knew she must once she saw him for what he was -- he could have left her with memories of a smiling, polite, studious son, but he had not even afforded her that. He had entered his home hoping to spare himself, not her, and and now she suffered the more, and the more needlessly. Yuusuke and Kuwabara, and everyone in the worlds, had been endangered by his rash actions in fleeing his mission. Yukina had even lost almost her entire people as a result of his decisions.

These things clearly required his blood in payment many times over. But had he truly wished for death?

What had he wanted, these last days? On the surface, survival had occupied a central role in his thoughts, but there had been much below that layer that could have affected his actions. He had wanted his mother back. He had wanted Hiei back. He had wanted, he was aware in a wry way, to punish himself for losing them, given that he was responsible. In the absence of consummation of the first two desires, the third had probably taken precedence. But in the sense that he had sought to punish himself, that was much better served by remaining alive to suffer the results of his actions. There had been the promise he had made to Hiei, which had also obviated the path of self-destruction.

However, all of that assumed that he had been thinking rationally of the future. He candidly admitted to himself that he had had nebulous plans at best for whatever might come following the neutralization of the demon threat -- partially because there was little planning that could be done, and partially because he hadn't really thought he would survive. He had devised his strategy according to the odds he had calculated, and being aware that he might not survive was not the same as planning not to.

This did not change the plain fact that he had failed to choose a direction for his future, however, beyond disavowing any ties to humanity, which really didn't count. So in that future, and his perception of it, was where the error lay, if such there was. It was the only unexplored byway that his logic had not touched. So what had he wanted for the future?

He surveyed the spread of his emotions. He had wanted -- finality. He had wanted an end. He had thought that end was his resumption of his old life, but as he had looked into his future, devoid of family, friends and purpose, seeing only a return to the past and the identity he loathed --

It was there that the emotions became twisted upon themselves. Thwarted longing became self-loathing became painful denial became -- apathy.

The realization of its existence was abrupt and unsoftened. Apathy -- he had not recognized it before. Such an insidious feeling, to have crept up on him unaware, and to have undermined everything he had thought he was seeking. It suddenly made too much sense; only indifference could have swayed his rationality, guiding him from beneath his conscious control by robbing him of the drive necessary for survival.

And apathy, mixed with his desire for an ending to his pain and the breakdown of his ability to reason, would have meant only one thing.

Yuusuke was right.

As he tasted the thought in his mind, backed by logic and devoid of the defensive anger that had blocked him before, it seemed less now like an unjust accusation, and more as if the detective's off-and-on uncanny perception had been at full operancy. It seemed his judgment had indeed been clouded, and all his careful, rational planning must be called into question under this new light. It was almost an insult, to be less aware of his own motives than Yuusuke -- but only if he were feeling particularly elitist, which he was not any longer.

His arrogant pride had certainly played a factor in the words they had exchanged, however. It was highly likely that Yuusuke would not speak to him for days -- or longer. He doubted he was worthy of being forgiven, after twisting Yuusuke's selfless actions when Kurama had tried to use the Mirror of Darkness and turning that defining moment of friendship into a spiteful weapon. That gift, which had meant so much to him as well; and he had thrown it in Yuusuke's face.

After a moment of pure guilt, enough to disrupt his trance and pull him to full consciousness once more, his mind found one redeeming fact: Yuusuke had done precisely what he had yelled at Kurama for, and must at least admit to that. Whether his stubbornness would allow it was another matter; but the kitsune had not been wholly in the wrong.

But he had been wrong enough. If he truly wished to die, there were kinder and less dishonest ways of going about it that would cause a minimum of trouble for everyone concerned. He had enough control over his body and ki to simply will it -- a painless and sure death. Even if someone tried to stop him, there was no way to keep him alive if he did not want to remain so.

Or there was always the route Hiei had chosen. A single razor-leaf, while his body was still weakened from the blood he had already lost --

He felt a jab of remorse in his throat. He had thought so little of Hiei since he had woken. Where was the Jaganshi now? In Reikai prison, awaiting sentencing for his transgressions? Gone forever to another plane of existence? With Hiei, too, his last words exchanged had been harsh, and that was a wrong for which there could be no reparation. Now that Hiei had visited his dreams for the last time, Kurama would never speak with him again.

And the hurt had returned -- the hot ache in his chest, so different from his physical wounds, that reminded him of Hiei's presence and yet spoke of his abandonment all the more sharply. Hiei would have been furious with him even as Yuusuke was, but he would have showed it with a frigid disdain that struck deeper than anger. Kurama's actions -- and more, his denial of them -- were cowardice of the first order, and it did not matter that the Jaganshi himself had succumbed to the same despair. Hiei would have lost respect for him; and that alone was enough for tears to threaten.

He had worked hard for Hiei's respect. There were so few to whom the Jaganshi granted that honor, and his specifications were exacting in the extreme. That Kurama had continued to meet them even though he obviously had human foibles had been surprising and ultimately gratifying in a way that he was not sure he understood, but that he valued very highly. And despite his ties to humanity, he was so very like Hiei. Their backgrounds were different enough, but had led them to nearly the same place; the only reason that Kurama had become as different as he now found himself was his life in the Ningenkai. Without that experience, he would have remained as Hiei had: ruthless, cold, and haughty in his loneliness.

The silences they had shared, comfortably and without feeling a need for talk; Hiei's quick anger and quicker wit, so perfectly counterpointing Kurama's subtler nature; the unspoken understanding that let them both know where they stood -- with no one else had he shared so much. He felt hollow, and contemptible.

He let the epiphany -- for it was one -- reach its zenith. He was so self-centered that it appalled him, lying here in contemplation of how best to end his life when so many others had given so much to keep him alive. He did owe them his life -- and he had been trying his level best to make their sacrifices a waste. He had let his most irrational urges drive him, cloaking them in rationalization and false reason, and lashing out at anyone who tried to tell him he was wrong, like the prideful bastard he hated to be. And the self-pity was the worst of it.

It was one thing upon which the demon and the human in him agreed. Self-pity was inexcusable.

And for once, he could think of nothing -- nothing, for all his cleverness and cunning -- that might restore what he had thrown away.

x . o . x . o . x . o . x

"Koenma, sir."

"Yes, what is it?"

"I have a report you may wish to hear."

"Go ahead, I've got time."

"Upon returning to the Reikai this morning, I was informed that there has been a large number of Makai souls cycling through the system, which the staff has been having trouble processing; I spent some time in damage control. According to the regular scouting reports, it is probable that the rogue demons are responsible."

"I see. I was hoping to have more time before they attacked again."

"Do you have any instructions, sir?"

"I'd like you to manage the souls as well as you can, and I'll send Botan back to help you as soon as I can spare her."

"I presume you wish me to mobilize the secondary defense force."

"No. Leave them inactive, and I'll figure out my own solution to this problem; I'll be in enough trouble with my father once he hears about all of this."

"I wouldn't know anything about that, sir."

"Of course not. Do you know which sector of Makai these souls are coming from?"

"West to northwest. Three settlements have been confirmed as destroyed, and four scouts have failed to report in and been assumed as casualties. Backups were sent."

"Pull them back. There's no sense in risking more people -- I'm aware of what's going on, more or less, and they aren't necessary. Keep airborne scouts in place for visual recording if you can reasonably assure their safety."

"Is that all?"

"Keep me informed. Beyond that, tell the senior clerks that I'm delegating administrative decisions to them. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

Next chapter will return to action, and the story will finally come together for the climax. I've only got a couple more chapters planned, folks; I'm actually, truly, almost done with this story. I credit all of you for your support, and such. (munches on cookies)

Also Touya will get to do more. There just wasn't any good place for him in this chapter, even though it's been two chapters since he was introduced into the story.

Credit goes to the redoubtable Blossomwitch for a reference made in the first scene -- I adopted her fanfic, 'Define Mercy', as canon for the purposes of my own fanfiction, and will continue to reference it as such. Go check her out -- you are commanded!

Don't get mad at me if the next chapter takes forever and a day to finish, since the pacing has to be perfect or the dramatic tension won't carry through. In case you're wondering, Chapter 11, the only chapter that compares in terms of said dramatic tension, took bloody months to do right -- I was working on it continually at the same time as I was finishing Chapters 8 and 9. So since I don't have the same jumpstart here, you'll probably have to wait. Eh, sorry about that.