Running Together

14: Outside of the Apartment...

Kurama squinted against the sunlight reflecting back from the large window, scanning for horns poking out of long black hair. There, poised against the washing machines with knitted brows was his addled Ikuna. An elderly woman stood near her, gesturing to different clothes with her cane. She pinched the fabric of Ikuna's sweater and skirt and compared them for her to see. Kurama couldn't hear from outside the coin laundry, but it looked as if she was explaining the garments to her. He chuckled fondly to himself.

Ikuna opened her mouth to speak to the woman, but paused. Her eyes flicked up and met Kurama's through the window. Ah, she must have smelled me. He gave her a friendly wave, and she smiled at him, but something in the set of her jaw told him that it wasn't entirely sincere. He sighed through his nose and opened the door to go inside. It was going to be a mental battle to get her to talk to him, but now that his eyes were adjusted to the florescent lights he could plainly see it would be a necessary conversation. He could spot multiple signs of vitality in her face alone, from her rosy cheeks and pink lips to her clear eyes piercing him from across the room.

The elderly woman followed Ikuna's gaze to Kurama, and smiled slyly. Ikuna fidgeted with one of her horns as he neared. He fought to keep his face impassive, but he couldn't help his surprise at her old nervous habit returning.

"Good morning, Onna," he turned to the old woman, "Good morning, grandmother. I hope my friend isn't troubling you. She isn't quite used to housework," he leaned forward conspiringly, "Spoiled as a child," he whispered.

Ikuna stiffened, but her tight smile eased. She snapped her hand from her horn to her side just as the woman's gaze slid towards her. Most humans—like Keiko—can't see her horns without some sort of gift, but she knew better than to fiddle with them out in public.

"Now, now, she's been no bother at all! Your friend here is quite the fast learner. It reminds me of teaching my own dimwitted daughter when she was young," Grandma said. Ikuna's face went cold and she said nothing, "In fact, I'm glad that she let me help her! Poor girl was standing there dumb as a post staring at the washing machines. I'm glad I caught her before she hurt herself!" she cackled. Kurama forced a laugh, but shifted his weight towards Ikuna. Old memories of her temper came hurling back at him, and he hoped against hope that she was wise enough to take the old woman's words with humor instead of offense. We're older now, he pleaded silently, Please don't lash out and make me stop you. He couldn't quiet see her eyes through her hair, but Ikuna's rigid shoulders rose with a deep inhale.

To his astonishment, she whirled to meet his eyes and pouted, "She's telling the truth," she said crossing her arms, "I was comparing the directions on the machine to the directions on the soap and confused myself."

"Detergent, young lady," Grandma corrected, "If you use regular soap, the suds will spill out all over the place."

Kurama covered his mouth and turned his head. If only this woman knew she was teasing the Yuki-Onna of legend. She wouldn't have lived to tell the tale a few hundred years ago, but now…

"Thank you for going through the trouble to teach me," Ikuna said, bowing to the woman.

Kurama pressed a warm hand to her back and bowed as well, "Yes, I know she can be a bit thick sometimes." Ikuna glowered at him.

"Anytime, dear. I'm happy to pass my knowledge down to the younger generation. Heaven knows you need it," the elderly woman gathered her finished laundry, "I trust you can take it from here, young man. You two take care, now," and with a warm smile, she left.

"'Younger generation,'" Ikuna simpered and turned to her clothes on the table.

Kurama laughed at the irony, "That was kind of her. I only wish I would have been here to see it. Yuki-Onna being scolded by a little old woman."

"She barreled toward me, Kurama!" Ikuna flung a hand over her forehead to feign distress, "She said she had gotten fed up watching me flounder, so she stormed over and yanked me to the side! Why, I'm still shaken up from the encounter."

"It's a miracle you're unharmed," Kurama said and sidled closer to help Ikuna separate her laundry. It looked like the old woman had started piles for her, "And what did Grandmother teach you?"

"Oh, all sorts of things," she held up a shirt and flipped the care tag up for inspection, "Did you know that all of these symbols tell you how to wash your clothes? Like here, this one means to use cold water only. And this one next to it means I shouldn't press it with a hot iron—whatever that is. I didn't ask," she tossed the garment into the colored clothing pile, "Oh! And to use the 'hot' setting on the drying machine sparingly. The heat will harm certain fabrics."

Their hands busied with sorting clothes as she talked on, and she hoped that Kurama didn't notice how every brush of his fingers against hers made her tense. As if taking a cruel cue from fate, Kurama absently reached for a pair of panties—the same pair she wore last night. She snatched them up before he could touch them, and he recoiled his hand in surprise. His cheeks reddened once he realized what he'd almost done.

"Ah—she said I should hand wash my underpinnings," she said, stuffing the panties back into her laundry bag, out of sight, "to keep their integrity."

"Yes, of course."

The mood shifted.

"Onna—"

"Ahhhh here it comes," she said, feeling exasperated before the conversation even began, "Let's get this over with. Where would you prefer to start? I think my underwear makes for an appropriate segue to last night's adventure, don't you agree?" Her words came out with a little more bite than she intended.

Kurama sighed and kept his voice low, "I was under the impression that we had addressed that immediately after."

"You call that 'addressing'?" Ikuna scoffed, "After you forced yourself on me?" He winced to her satisfaction.

"I—I'm sorry. I know that I gave you an excuse about wanting to help you, but what I did was wrong."

She decided to twist the knife, "And manipulative."

"…Yes."

"Kurama."

He flipped the article of clothing he was holding right side out, "Yes, Onna."

"Look at me," She turned his face towards her, "You cannot play with my heart like that."

His stunned mouth fell open.

"I know you want what's best for me. Quite frankly, I'm not entirely used the idea of you fretting over me so openly, but Kurama…" she hardened her stare, "I will not let you twist my heart around that way again. You are not that man anymore." She held his gaze, willing him to understand her. After a moment, she averted her eyes, "There was a moment last night where you didn't even look like yourself… You looked like him."

"Like 'him'? Onna, I am him."

"No," she confronted him again, "you're not. I would know. I lived with you. Slept in your bed. I know exactly the kind of man you were." She reached out to him and gently brushed his hair from his face, lingering her touch against his jaw.

"Please, Kurama," she pleaded softly, "don't use my emotions like that again."

He took her hand in his and held it against his cheek, "I promise."

She rested her head against his collarbone, but his body tensed in response. She broke away with a racing heart and moved to load the first pile of clothes into the machine, like the old woman had shown her. She didn't see when Kurama reached out, or when he dropped his arms to his sides instead of holding her.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, held it, and released. When he opened his eyes, Ikuna was standing dumbly in front of the machine and holding the detergent. She'd been so wrapped up in the emotion that she'd forgotten much of grandmother's instruction. The corners of Kurama's mouth tugged upward, "Onna, would you like help?"

She whipped around, "It's your fault that elderly woman's words slipped my mind, you know." She relinquished the detergent bottle into Kurama's hands and returned to the table with her other clothes, not bothering to watch him, "You always pick the most inconvenient times to harass me."

Kurama started the washing machine and looked at her sideways, "I understand that you don't particularly enjoy my line of questioning, but I wouldn't say that I harass you. I would call it 'friendly confrontation.'"

She scoffed and sat on a bench facing the rows of washing machines. Kurama strode over and leaned against the counter next to her.

"How long do we wait for it to finish?" she asked.

He checked his watch, "Thirty minutes."

She gaped, "Thirty minutes? But I have another pile that needs washing! At this rate I'll be here for a least two hours."

"Why don't we wash the other load at the same time?"

"Is that allowed?"

"Of course, as long as you have enough money."

Ikuna opened her wallet and retrieved a few coins to pass to Kurama.

"Pfft—Onna, don't you think you should try it for yourself?" he asked.

She frowned, "You would rather me stumble through this chore and ruin my clothes than use your patience and attention to detail to complete it efficiently?"

Kurama laughed out loud, and wrapped his slender fingers around her hand to pull her to her feet.

"Here, I'll walk you through it."

It was during his walk home late that night that he realized she had never given him the chance to ask where all her energy came from.

NoodleNote: Man, I had such a hard time writing this chapter. I wrote and rewrote and cut out and added so much. It was about twice as long as this, but felt so clunky. I'm glad I finally got it to a point where I felt good enough about it to post it!

Thanks for sticking it out with me! And to everyone leaving comments and PMing me kind words, you folks really rock my world.

See you next chapter! Maybe we'll see Ikuna emotionally manipulate more people! Why do you think she's being an asshat? Are you curious about any of the other characters? Did I make a typo and look like a fool? Let me know!