A/N
Homework. This. Homework. This. Homework. This. Homework! This!
Thank heavens this won. XD
(Don't worry—my homework assignments are all done, too. ^-^)
As you can see, I posted the complete Chapter 13 as Chapter 14 instead. Much love to those who cared enough to review:
Pewter Queen-san: Hi there! Thank you for finally reviewing! \^o^/ Yup, Setsu is shamelessly into BL. She just never had a chance to show it in previous chapters. XD Since your e-mail address isn't in your profile page, please share it with me—through either a PM or another review—so I could send you the MP3s of Returnable Memories and Naked Flower. Please tell me what you think of Paku Romi as the voice I have in mind for Setsu, then! I hope to hear from you again soon! ^^
xenocanaan-san: Thank you! Please keep on reading and reviewing! ^-^
loser94-san: Thank you for answering my question! There—I kept it as Chapter 13, all right. ^^
DiesIrae773-san: Thank you for answering my question as well! (So much for writing Kurama x Setsu—I'm having even more fun writing Kaname x Setsu—and even Kaname x Kurama! XD But that was just crack. XDD) Here's the complete Chapter 13, then—as Chapter 14! ^-^
Aika Hanagawa a.k.a. Shush Love-san: Wow. Thank you for adding this little fanfic of mine—and me too!—in all your Favorites and Alerts! ^-^ It is truly an honor. Oo nga eh—pati ako, nahahabaan sa sarili kong mga chapters. XD With its length as of now, I don't advise that this fic be read in its entirety in just one sitting. But I'm glad to know you love it all the same! I hope to hear from you again soon!
And Kaori Minamino-san: Hey there! I missed your reviews! \^o^/ (I was beginning to think you weren't reading this anymore, so I'm really relieved to learn I was wrong. ^^;) By "now I have internet to review," do you mean that you don't have it most of the time? Just curious.
If you had read Chapter 13 a.k.a. Mini-Chapter 3 before Chapter 12, then Setsu's "to run or not to run away with Kaname" dilemma might not have made much sense to you at first. ^-^; Solar flares and swamp gas FTW~! XD Kidding aside, Kurama has a plan. He'll straighten things out with Maya… again, when the time is right. ^^
And yes, "Setsu has [Kaname's] back, even if he had her face." So wittily said. *nods* I can't sum it up any other way. XD And I loved Kuwabara for that "most epic moment ever," too. XDD (I had been itching to write his big blunder since Chapter 2, you know.)
IMHO, Setsu finally introduced Kurama to her late mother formally so as to somehow lend a sense of closure to his "Was it all just a dream?" question. Actually, she doesn't want to lie to him at all. (She just has to, for some reason.) Keeping the truth from him had always pained her, so now she's starting to make up for it. And I think Kurama is subconsciously trying to help her—by bringing up another one of her nicknames, he himself had also put a "pretend past" of theirs behind him. Sigh. Well, they're getting there. Little by little. ^-^
Oh, and that Shiori-school problem of Kurama's is only the first of many, many more. His is a tangled, tangled web he had weaved over the years—she has yet to unpack tons more of his emotional baggage. XD I just loved how you interpreted the long teaser! "Everything is definitely not going the way Kurama would want it," all right! Until next time, then! ^_^
And here's yet another shout-out to the new readers of this little fanfic of mine who just joined us in Chapter 13: StrawberryxXxKisses, turtwigfan98, Aikalin, and PoisonAndSugar! (Anyone else I forgot to mention? ^^;) I hope to read your reviews soon!
All of you know by now that it just wouldn't be me typing this if I never at least once mention this…
Happy reading!
14: The Secretive Son
Alternative Chapter Title: Kurama's Closet
"Take it."
The thousand-year-old fox in pseudo-human form froze.
Why has the Eternal not slain him yet? Has the unseen, unforgiving spirit of Time truly spared him? Is this all a trap?
Just then, another bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the rundown, ruined dungeon.
No. The Eternal was still as merciless as ever.
But not to him.
Youko Kurama gazed upon the omnipotent golden hourglass cradled in that frail, pale hand clasped in his own. Fine grains of sand sieved down its curved bottleneck even as it lay on its side. He had no doubt at all—it was real.
So why was the Eternal all too willing to give its treasure away?
Take it, it commanded him once more, this time within the tranquil privacy of its mind. It is as meaningless to me as you gauge your life to be.
Something tugged at the corners of the Eternal's yet invisible lips. A smile. When was the last time it smiled? It could not even remember.
You poor beast. It could not bring itself to condemn the very thief who had broken into its long-forsaken castle. No. Its cell. You haven't been bathed in two centuries!
He smelled strongly of lust—of his own bile and saliva, his mouth watering beyond his conscious control. The spirit of Time could feel his loins aching for conquest; an unquenched thirst drying his veins, dictating his every move. His heartbeat betrayed him. Beneath those liquid, longing eyes, the longtime leader of the most notorious and feared band of thieves in all of Makai desired more than just the sandglass mirroring the gold of his eyes.
He coveted answers.
Answers that it was expressly forbidden to give.
You may have that, the Eternal told him tacitly, telepathically. But you may not have the satisfaction of success. Forever suffer from the predator's most desperate frustration—facing no resistance from your prey at all!
Cunning eyes studied the wretched, emaciated hand separating his from his most prized Toki no Suna. A thin film of skin sheathed a tangled web of veins drained of color, a pulse, and life. A ghastly scar ran the length of the Eternal's ashen palm.
"Let go," demanded the sexless, shapeless form. But its voice fell on deaf ears.
Still a brittle, broken body with no face, the Eternal pulled its hand away from his. Kurama seized hold of that limp wrist before it could get away and vanish from his sight forever.
Let go of me. The faceless being gnashed imaginary teeth. Go away.
"This."
A stubborn, slender ivory finger with a razor-sharp canine nail slid across the Eternal's wounded palm, tracing its unsightly scar slowly… gently.
"From where did this…?"
Unseen but all-seeing eyes lowered their gaze.
Even if I told you, you would not remember. The Eternal sighed without lips and closed its inexistent eyes. Go away, Kurama.
A thin, wasted hand gripped that flawless fox finger with all its remaining strength. Shutting its eyes even more tightly, the Eternal forced a gulp down its burning throat.
Go away—before I beg you to stay!
"What does it matter?" spat the airy, androgynous voice. "This is just a mission to you."
"Time alone cannot heal all wounds." Youko Kurama thrust his hand into his hair, golden eyes glistening with a secret. "A rose shorn of sun shall never grow."
Speech befits your tongue, Kurama. Another smile—wry, and only half this time—curled the Eternal's lips. But you should have remembered I'm not too fond of flowery poetry.
Suddenly, the only window in the dark, desolate bedroom gave way, its crisscrossed wrought-iron bars breaking from rusted stone and crumbling to pieces. The Eternal opened its eyes to the glorious sight of the collapse of its jail cell wall and the entire stretch of night-drenched world beyond.
Nani? It bit back a gasp. But I am to be locked here for all—
"You are free."
Dusty streaks of midnight moonlight stabbed through the wrecked wall and guided—blinded—their eyes. The Eternal found a maze of long, winding Makai vines snaking through the cracks in the stone of its now demolished prison wall. Upon serving their purpose, the demon-manipulated plants slowly slithered past the ruins back to—and all the way around—Youko Kurama's muscled arm.
The sandglass of infinite power safely clutched in his claws, Kurama trampled upon the stone rubble before him and leapt out into the night.
Matte! A lifeless hand in a long scarlet kimono reached out to touch his back, only to grasp thin air. You forgot—!
Colorless, weightless human feet floated over debris, over jagged remains of the stone wall that once imprisoned a sentenced convict for all its near-immortal life.
Endless green eyes could only watch the silver-haired human-fox leader in immaculate white flee alongside his human-bat deputy clad in black, their silhouettes ebbing into the distance and finally flitting out of sight.
The blurred, clouded glow of the Makai moon shone on the Eternal's now visible face.
This isn't what I wanted.
He was gone. Yet the Eternal still felt his finger caressing the scar in its palm.
Damn it, Kurama!
A slashed hand tightened its grip on the short-stemmed red rose the thief had left behind.
Her back suddenly thrust forward, rising out of bed. She found herself panting heavily, her shoulders rising and falling fast, cold beads of sweat trickling down the bridge of her nose.
Those wretched souls.
Didn't even cry.
The digital alarm clock on the bedside table read six thirty-seven. Warm golden dawn seeped through the drawn curtains.
But what need would they have of my pity?
Trembling too faintly for her to see, her own hand moved on its own, slowly reaching for the stuffed toy animal leaning against the alarm clock. Setsu closed her eyes as she held the white fox plushie in her arms, its fuzzy fur brushing against the flesh of collarbone peeking out of her buttoned pajamas.
She buried her chin between the fox's ears, taking in the feel of velvet on her skin.
Let go.
Yet the more she resisted, the longer its nose pressed upon her chest.
"'Kaa-san, there's something you should know."
Kurama straightened out another placemat on their dining table.
"Ara," exclaimed a most worried Shiori as she placed a glass atop the right-hand corner of the tablemat. "Is something the matter, Shuuichi?"
A flat, spoon-shaped rice scooper in his hand, the dutiful son lifted the lid off their rice cooker and began serving newly cooked rice into five black china bowls. "Iiya. Nothing's wrong, 'Kaa-san. It's just…"
The middle-aged woman in the frilly pink apron carried a plate of five eggs fried sunny side up. "Yes?"
Kurama heaved a sigh. "I've been thinking. It's about time I go to college."
A soft gasp escaped his human mother's lips. For a split second, she stopped pouring coffee into Hatanaka Kazuyu's trusty mug. "But where? Meiou?"
"I don't know."
Crimson forelocks hid endless green eyes.
The coffee flowed again. "When will you start?"
"This coming school year." Shuuichi the Elder set five bowls of white milled rice upon five different placemats. "Shikashi, I wasn't able to qualify for entrance to any university yet. I must have missed most testing dates by now."
Suddenly a warm, tender hand clapped onto his shoulder.
"Don't worry," assured a serenely smiling Shiori. "You don't have to take any tests. Meiou Daigaku has been waiting for you."
His gaze fell. "But I deferred my entry into Meiou indefinitely, 'Kaa-san. My scholarship…"
"They miss their best student, Shuuichi."
Kurama hung his head low, sorrowful regret written across his face. "If I could appeal for my entry despite short notice, I will go even if I lose eligibility for scholarship. I've saved enough of my salary to shoulder my education—"
Shiori gently shook her head. "Kazuyu-sama already told me your reason for doing this. But are you sure this is what you want?"
He finally looked up, meeting her smile with one of his own. "Hai. It's just one English class, 'Kaa-san. It will interfere with my work schedule, but it's not without its advantages. It would be a good addition to my credentials…"
"No matter what you decide to do…"
Shiori enveloped her mature, sensible son in an embrace.
"… I will always be proud of you, Shuuichi."
Kurama felt a great weight suddenly lifted off his shoulders.
Arigatou…
He wrapped his arms around the human woman's shoulders in return.
… 'Kaa-san.
Her back and one foot leaning against the wall, Setsu took her eyes off the Minaminos, uncrossed her arms, and walked away.
Such a gentle family.
She closed her eyes. The shadow of a smile eclipsed her lips.
See, sempai? It all worked out after all, ne?
Still holding his mother in his arms, Kurama silently watched the female figure behind the wall leave.
Arigatou…
He closed his eyes. The shadow of a smile eclipsed his lips.
… Mayonaka-san.
"Congratulations, otouto." The elder Shuuichi ruffled the already disheveled hair of the younger. He strode to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap. "Keep it up."
Her trusty purple toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, Setsu eyed the test paper with the grade "B+" in bright red ink tacked to the Minamino-Hatanaka freezer door with animal-shaped refrigerator magnets. "So you were exempted from remedial Physics class all summer then," she held her toothbrush still as she spoke to the groggy, grouchy boy sitting before his breakfast. "Did you have to lose so much sleep over it?"
"Hey, the all-nighter killed me, but I aced the test, didn't I?" A baggy-eyed Shuuichi spat to his cousin and shoved a pile of rice into his mouth with his overused chopsticks. "What more d' ya want? There's just no pleasing you!"
Kurama brushed his teeth while watching his extended family swinging chopsticks and a toothbrush around as though they were swords.
"Well, I would have been prouder of you if you had managed to join us for breakfast." Setsu rolled her near-empty tube of toothpaste from end to end, attempting to force out the last of its contents onto her toothbrush. "Whom do you expect will wash the dishes that you used? I know very well that you wouldn't do it even if your life depended on it."
"Itoko, no one nags like that in this house! Not even 'Kaa-san!"
"That's exactly why I'm doing it."
As she scolded away, still wagging her toothbrush in mid-air, Kurama gently took the twisted, misshapen tube from her hand and squeezed it even emptier than it already was. "Hold still, Mayonaka-san."
"So now would be the perfect time for you to prove me wrong—" She scraped off a drop of sparkling minty gel oozing out of her toothpaste tube. "—Oh. Arigatou, sempai." She turned back to the other Shuuichi. "And another thing…"
"What now?" Neck-deep in nagging, the irked Shuuichi plopped his juice glass onto the dining table with a loud thud.
"How could sixteen-year-old stubble possibly clog a sink?"
Now brushing his backmost molars, Kurama shot a look at the kitchen sink before them and sweat-dropped. It was their only recourse after Shuuichi had unintentionally blocked up the second floor bathroom sink when he shaved earlier this morning.
"Heh," Shuuichi scoffed, popping egg yolk into his mouth. "It's a man thing. You wouldn't understand."
"Please," the girl rolled her eyes. "I don't even want to know just what you were shaving in the first place. Face it, itoko. You're all mum about that 'man thing' because you don't understand it yourself."
Spider veins erupted out of Shuuichi's temple, his chopsticks nearly breaking in half. "Are you attacking my manhood?"
Setsu chuckled to herself, amused with his annoyance. Just as she stuck her toothbrush inside her mouth, the other family member using the kitchen sink for lavatory purposes raised a cup to his lips and rinsed his own.
Kurama threw his head back and spat his mouthwash down the sink drain, feeling his hair being tugged behind him. He turned to his side and found Setsu holding his hair up.
She grinned impishly. "Wouldn't want your hair smelling of gargle spit, ne?"
"Awww. How sweet." A sarcastic, disgusted Shuuichi scowled and stuck his tongue out. "Itoko, I'm starting to think you like 'Nii-san more than you like me!"
Setsu pointed her head in Kurama's direction. "I'd do the same for you, but your hair isn't long enough. Maybe if you didn't shave so much, ne?"
Kurama strode past the dining table and across the room, stopping only to ruffle Shuuichi's hair once more. "Otouto. Be nice."
The cousins watched him climb up the stairs, the older one still brushing and the younger still scowling.
"Oh, yeah? I'm on to you too, 'Nii-san! Stop backing itoko up!"
She's grieving.
Shiori played with her eyes closed.
Sitting on a higher step in the staircase, Setsu studied the inside of Minamino Shiori's baby grand piano from above. Each time the practiced pianist depressed a key on the board, a hammer inside the harp-shaped brass frame struck a thin, fine string that vibrated and played the very tune Shiori intended to hear.
So that's how pianos work, observed Setsu. But there's something different about this one…
"Setsuki-chan?"
She froze. "Hn?"
"Have you been listening from there?" Shiori motioned for the younger girl to come closer. "Please, join me here."
With shy reluctance, Setsu shuffled down the stairs and slowly slid onto the long stool for two before the piano, just where Shiori patted for her to sit. "You play well, 'Ba-san."
The woman's face glowed from the compliment. "Thank you, Setsuki-chan!" Tenderly, she touched the polished brass surface by the keyboard. "I have been playing this ever since my father gave it to me as a child."
"Minamino-sempai's maternal grandfather?" A curious eyebrow shot up. I can't even picture him with a human grandfather.
Shiori nodded. "But he died before Shuuichi was born."
Setsu hung her head low. "Mengo."
The older woman blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I mean gomen. Gomen nasai. I'm sorry to hear of your loss." Setsu knuckled her own temple lightly. Ame-kun was right—I really should watch my mouth.
Shiori took Setsu's hand from the girl's lap and clasped it in her own. "You know how it feels too, don't you? To lose a parent too soon…"
Sandy brown forelocks suddenly hid cold blue eyes. "Hai."
"I was unable to tell my father a lot of things," Shiori looked up, her eyes lost, distant. "He never knew I've always dreamed of becoming a musical performer. He just wanted me to graduate with good grades and marry a proper husband."
Sounds like someone I know. "He reminds me of my own father," Setsu chuckled lightly. "I'm sure that he meant well, 'Ba-san. His wishes may not have been what you wanted, but he had your best interests in mind."
That reminds me…
"Yes," Shiori's gaze lowered and met hers. Her lips smiled along with her eyes. "You're right."
"This piano…"
"What is it?"
"It looks like a piano, but sounds like an organ," Setsu pointed out. "I noticed that you could play some keys longer than others, which is possible with an organ but not a piano. Ne?"
A light laugh escaped Shiori's lips. "Yes, that is the nice thing about this piano—it could play like an organ, too!" She spread her fingers atop the keyboard and played the same melody of mourning as before. "How observant of you, Setsuki-chan!"
But your song, 'Ba-san. It's so peaceful… sorrowful. A song of pain. "'Ba-san, did you compose that yourself?"
"Yes," Shiori continued playing, her eyes closing on their own. "When I play this, it reminds me of all the things I was never able to tell my father. I play it for him to hear from heaven."
How romantic. "So you need not sing any lyrics aloud, because he already knows them by now…?"
"The truth is, I don't know how to write lyrics." Kurama's human mother laughed to herself.
A smile played upon Setsu's lips. "This time, you remind me of my friend, Nami-chan." She beheld those graceful, nimble fingers sliding through the scales. "She aspires to become a singer, too. But she has such a hard time composing lyrics that she tells me she's interested only in a man with a flair for words. She trusts that he could be a good lyricist to her future songs."
Shiori stopped playing and giggled softly, her fingers lightly touching her lips. "Your friend does sound like me! But how about you, Setsuki-chan?"
Hn? Setsu blinked. "What about me, 'Ba-san?"
"What kind of man interests you?"
Green eyes fondly gazed upon the two dark-haired women with blue eyes chatting away by the baby grand piano.
They really do resemble each other. A smile threatened to curl Kurama's lips. A faraway memory flickered in his mind.
"During my first ultrasound, the doctor told me to expect a baby girl." A soft giggle escaped her lips. "I did expect, but she was wrong. But don't worry! I'm still very happy to have a son! Especially one as special as you!"
Mayonaka-san must see her mother in you, 'Kaa-san. Do you see in her…
He closed his eyes.
… the human daughter you should have had…?
The sun was too high, the air too dry. Crickets chirped in time with the rippling of a delusional heat wave. Was he just hallucinating from the heat, or was all of reality truly bending, undulating before his eyes?
"AAAAAH! AAATSUIIIII!" He moaned loudly in protest to the sweltering heat of that summer's morning. Flapping the collar of his sleeveless white jersey to fan himself, he stepped out into the family garden. "Now where's that hose?"
Standing a few meters before the lush shrubbery of Shiori's garden, a dehydrated Setsu aimed the long green water hose at the plants, plugging the hole with her thumb to cover more greenery at a time.
"Oi, itoko!" The sweaty boy trudged over to her. "Gimme that hose for a minute! The sprinklers can do that!"
A glaze of sweat taking shape by the circles under her eyes, the girl in the baggy T-shirt neither turned her head nor met his eyes. "Iie. I see Shiori-'ba-san watering these on her own. And I don't know where the sprinklers are. If you need to cool down so badly, why don't you take a real bath?"
"But in this heat, the water in the shower's too cold! You want me to get sick?"
Setsu shook her head to herself. "The weather's too hot, but the water's too cold. Can't you just strike a happy balance, Shuuichi?" She sprayed at another row of bushes. "Besides, water is water whether from the bathroom or the hose. Think about it, onegai."
"But the showerhead's always indoors, so it's cold!" groaned Shuuichi, ignoring her eyebrow now cocking up. "As for that hose, it's been out here in the heat all day, so it shouldn't be so cold!"
Could that even possibly make sense? "Itoko, I don't believe that heat conduction and insulation work that way."
"Stop throwing Physics at me!" Shuuichi snatched the hose from her grip. "I've had enough of it in school!"
"All I'm saying is that an actual bath would do you a lot better than just soaking yourself with your clothes on." She grabbed the hose back.
"And all I'm saying is it won't! Let—" He gritted his teeth and yanked the tail of the hosepipe, but she held on to its neck tightly, relentlessly. "—go!"
"Ne, guess what? We're wasting water."
She sighed.
"If you want it so much, then here you go."
When she released the watering hose from her clutches, it flailed out of his control and spewed right into his face.
Setsu blinked and shrugged. "Well, you asked for it."
"Did you wanna drown me?" His entire being now soaked in both sweat and water, a mischievously grinning Shuuichi pointed the hose at her and cried, "Here's a taste of your own medicine!"
The rowdy voices from outside calling his attention, Kurama followed them into the garden, an open book in his hand. The cousins were running across the grass, headed straight for him.
"Otouto, Mayonaka-san—"
PSSSSSHHHHHT!
Kurama's eyes widened and looked down to discover that he had just been hosed down.
Setsu suddenly froze, her face contorted into a sour, awful, eye-twitching mess. She could not even dare point it out—or point at it.
Mi… na… mi… no… sem… pai…
Shuuichi skidded to a halt right behind the now motionless Setsu. "What did I hit?"
Oh, just see for yourself!
A heavy stain dripped from between the older Shuuichi's legs.
"OOPS!" Multiple sweat-drops drenched the younger Shuuichi even more than he already was. "SORRY, 'NII-SAN!"
"Minna-san, what's going on there?"
"'Kaa-san!" The two Shuuichis exclaimed all at once.
How inappropriate! No one should see him with a wet—! Setsu stole the garden hose from Shuuichi—"Mengo, sempai!"—and sloshed Kurama from head to toe.
Shiori walked in on them and found three wringing wet teenagers, their forelocks falling all over their faces and their shirts closely sticking to their skins.
"Ara!" The mother of the household clapped a hand onto her own cheek. "What happened?"
Shuuichi rubbed the back of his head in sheepish apology, laughing uneasily. "We were just watering your plants, 'Kaa-san!"
What do you mean "we"? "But somewhere along the way, we watered ourselves." Setsu knuckled her own forehead.
"Daijoubu, 'Kaa-san. No one got hurt." Kurama's eyes were closed, his arms folded across his chest. Suddenly he exuded the air of maturity missing from the two—he held himself responsible for their water game gone wrong. "I was about to take a shower anyway."
"So was I," nodded Setsu, more water still gushing out of the hose in her hand.
Shuuichi blinked at his elders and resignedly joined in. "M-Me too!"
You were not. Setsu rolled her eyes to herself.
"Oh, is that so?" A laugh tempted to escape Shiori's lips. "I appreciate all your help, then! And I'm glad to know you kids are having fun."
Just as she turned her back on them, Kurama whirled to face his younger peers.
Kurama was already parting his lips to speak when Setsu bowed her head before him, damp brown locks drooping in between her eyes. "Mengo again, sempai. We've roughhoused enough, I know." She wandered into the garden in search of the faucet to which the hose was connected. "Now where was that faucet again?"
Shuuichi hobbled back into the house, pulling his jersey over his head and off his shoulders. "By the rose bushes," he called out to the houseguest yet unfamiliar with their home. "I think."
Rose bushes… Kurama looked past his soaked forelocks, towards the girl distancing from him. But she shouldn't get too close to those…! His legs broke into a mad dash on their own. "Mayonaka-san, mind the sprinklers underfoot—"
Too late.
"Where—" No later than Setsu glanced over at him did she trip over one of them.
Kurama seized her by her shoulders just as she stumbled right into him.
The two of them collapsed onto a bed of newly watered grass, Kurama landing on his back, Setsu toppling over him on her stomach. Her right hand still clutching the hose, her left cupped the back of his head, cushioning his head from the ground. His whole body had buffered her fall. Water endlessly flowed from their gardening hose, slowly but surely pooling into a muddy puddle to his left.
Her cheek pressed against a wet but nonetheless warm chest, her left arm curled round his head, and his head lightly cradled upon her left hand. Blinking once, twice, Setsu suddenly noticed his soaking wet polo shirt clinging onto a smooth, slender contour of rib muscle like second skin. Was that small nub standing out from his chest his…?
She bit her lip and gulped.
Darn it, he's…
Blue eyes instantly darted away from the secret beneath his see-through shirt.
Don't even think about it!
"Minamino-sempai…" She caught herself speaking slowly, her voice coming out in a husky whisper even lower and mellower than usual. "Are you…?"
Kurama winced from underneath her. "H… Hai," he murmured just as slowly, slightly shifting his weight to his right to inch away from the water seeping into his left shoulder and backside. "You…?"
Setsu finally let go of the hose and collected all her strength into her right hand, hoisting herself off him while still bracing the back of his head with her left. "I'm fine—"
Nani?
She could not get off him.
He would not let go.
His arms, clapped onto her shoulders as they fell to the ground, were now wrapped around them.
Kurama's palms rested upon bony shoulder blades, his lower lip barely grazing a messy, hair-strewn forehead. A thin white shoulder strap showed through her wet shirtsleeve.
This…
That lanky, awkward frame sprawled atop him did not weigh down on him at all. But something about their current stance felt… strange. Troubling.
When did this… happen before…?
"Sempai." He heard the urgency in her voice. "Can you stand?"
Kurama snapped back to reality. "Aa." He took his hands off her back, lifting his head up for her to be able to move her left hand again. "You shouldn't always trust the earth you stand on, Mayonaka-san. Sometimes it can betray you."
Setsu refused to let go of the back of his head. She raised it up for him as he rose to his feet. "Iie. I was careless—I didn't watch where I was going. You could say that I hadn't earned its trust yet."
She brushed crusty cakes of mud off her jeans and turned her back on him to pick up the hose, unaware that the hedges she just faced were rose shrubs. "Now this really calls for a bath—"
"Mayonaka-san, don't smell the—"
Too late.
"ATCHOO!"
Was an animal dying in there?
Shiori could hear the stereo blaring in Shuuichi's room all the way from the kitchen; Kurama an even longer way from the car.
A ring of keys in his hand and a sudsy sponge in hers, both biological mother and son rapped upon Shuuichi's bedroom door. Kurama turned the knob to find the budding musician with his eyes closed, wildly strumming an air guitar in time with the thrums of the electric guitar in the rock instrumental booming from his music player.
As Shuuichi's playing arm thrashed and flailed against his imaginary instrument with neither shame nor a care in the world, Kurama was already parting his lips to speak when he felt a warm, gentle hand clapping onto his shoulder.
He whirled to face Shiori, who shook her head, giggling softly. She pointed inside his own room, where their houseguest also closed her eyes and lost herself in her own little world—sitting on the rolling office chair before Kurama's desk with her legs apart while playing invisible drums, even stepping on a fictional bass drum pedal with her rhythmically tapping foot.
Kurama found himself basking in a most uninhibited Setsu treating his study table like a whole row of drums, striking the ideal drum to each thump in Shuuichi's lyric-less, no-vocals song. Its drumbeat followed a frenzied, much faster tempo than that of the song she had attempted—and failed—to play in the game center a few days ago, yet she kept pace with it masterfully… perfectly.
Was that faint, near-unnoticeable bobbing of her head to the beat actually her way of… head-banging? Dancing?
Shiori could not help herself any longer. Gracious as ever, she laughed quietly at the sight of it all, raising her sponge near her lips to hide them. "Shuuichi, she should play Shuuichi-kun's old drum set for us. It's still in our storage room."
Kurama regarded his human mother silently.
She's come to like her.
The stoplight turned red.
Kurama stepped on the brake.
"Hiei." With his usual stealth and grace, Kurama bounded out his bedroom window and onto the tree branch his demon comrade always slept in when the jaganshi found himself in the mood for fresh Ningenkai air. "Were you already in Ningenkai last night?"
"You're weaker than ever, Kurama," scowled the demon in the black robe. "How many more times must I say it? These worthless ningen you show so much mercy to will be your downfall!"
"I see you two have met." His arms folded across his chest, Kurama closed his eyes. "So last night was real, then."
"You shouldn't even be alive by now."
A smile curled Kurama's lips. "By some miracle, it's like I didn't shed a drop of blood at all." He opened his eyes and turned to his unexpressive friend. "But you sustained damage."
"Hmph." It was Hiei's turn to cross his arms before his chest and close his eyes. He knew better than to look Kurama in the eye just when the kitsune was either about to make a point or remind him of his own vulnerability. Or both.
Kurama leaned towards his friend's forehead, studying the jagan now no longer beneath its usual blindfold. The lids of the demonic eye remained half open despite its master's will. A thick film of fluid coated the half-lidded jagan.
A human hand inched closer to the strained, inflamed eye. Closer. Closer. But not close enough to touch.
"Did she do this to you, Hiei?"
"That's ridiculous!" cried the insulted warrior, shoving the hand away with no remorse. "Impossible! No ningen can even lay a finger on me!"
"I wonder what she has against you."
"Tch!" Hiei harrumphed again. Saliva was wasted on Kurama. No amount of talk could ever convince him of something he regarded with certainty. "You're a fool, Kurama. Keeping your enemies too close instead of simply finishing them off!"
Kurama stared past the first floor window of his own home, upon the three humans now gathering at the dining table for their supper.
"A human home is no place for needless bloodshed." His brows furrowed. "So far, she has been no threat to my family. In a human court of law, she is deemed innocent until proven guilty."
"You haven't changed at all," scoffed the small demon. "You still have that rotten habit of stalling until it's too late!"
"I have never let down my guard, Hiei." A human fist clenched tightly. "Not even under my own roof."
Suddenly, a bandaged demon hand pointed past the house window. "Those eyes."
Kurama gazed upon those glassy blue orbs glaringly standing out even from afar.
"They've seen more deaths than yours."
Kurama glanced at the rearview mirror, checking on the passengers sitting on the backseat of their family Toyota. Shuuichi had fallen fast asleep, snoring while digging his cheek deeper into Setsu's shoulder.
Cold, blank blue eyes gazed out the car window, glittering amidst the moonlight.
You're wrong, Hiei.
The stoplight turned green.
They've seen more than ours.
His elbow propped up on his long wooden counter and his chin resting on his palm, Yusuke idly flipped another page of his racy magazine. A runaway tear trickling down a bored, sleepy eye, he yawned loudly, stretching out his arm to scratch that pesky mosquito bite on his back.
He snapped his glossy centerfold shut and heaved a long sigh. "Looks like I oughta pack up for tonight."
No later had the words dropped from his lips did an old gray Toyota pull up before his ramen stand.
"Hel-lo," he chimed melodiously, more to himself than to the passengers still inside the four-door auto. "Who do we have 'ere?"
One rear door unlocked and swung open. A sports sneaker stained with a splash of acrylic paint stepped out of the town car. Yusuke had seen that shoe before. Come to think of it, even those faded jeans looked familiar!
Too familiar.
"Well, well, well," scoffed a suddenly arrogant ramen peddler. "Look who's finally thrown out that screamin' metal deathtrap of a bike she used t' have!"
"But I still have it," said Setsu coolly just as the door to the driver's seat swiveled open as well.
A wide-eyed, jaw-dropped Yusuke froze as he watched Kurama taking his hand off the wheel and unbuckling his seatbelt.
"You two just never run outta ways t' mess wit' my head, don'tcha?"
"ITADAKIMAAASU!" cried the more outspoken Hatanaka Kazuyu and Shuuichi together, passionately splitting their respective wooden chopsticks into two.
"Itadakimasu," murmured the more soft-spoken Minamino Shiori and Shuuichi, also splitting their wooden chopsticks into two, but more gently.
"Itadaki." Setsu said flatly, holding up two graphite pencils instead of chopsticks.
As the four members of the Minamino-Hatanaka family partook of their newly cooked ramen—meaty char-sieu men for the man, healthy moyashi for his wife, greasy gomoku for the younger son, and plain and simple miso for the elder—their guest pressed her pencil against paper and went straight to work.
"That's right, bitch." His back turned on them, a secretly snickering Yusuke muttered low under his breath. He eyed the long cord hanging atop his stand, particularly the lone drawing attached to the line with two clothespins. "It's about time ya finished that menu y' started!"
"Is something the matter, Yusuke-kun?"
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Did Kurama's family hear all that? "N-N-Nothing's wrong, Minamino-san!" He whirled to face them and waved his hands dismissively before the curious Shiori. "I mean Hatanaka-san! Whatever name yer goin' with now!"
As the woman blinked and softly giggled to herself, her husband and stepson took (excruciating) pains to slow themselves down, tilting their bowls to show their ingredients to their preoccupied houseguest every now and then. They had all agreed to the plan—she would draw the contents of their respective ramen as they ate, but they themselves would color the finished sketch of the very ramen they had just consumed to give her time off to eat as well.
An uneasy Yusuke scratched the tip of his nose. "By the way, I'm really sorry I missed yer wedding." He rubbed the back of his neck in apology. "Kura—I mean Shuuichi!—went t' all the trouble of invitin' me, but I jus' couldn't go."
"That's all right, Yusuke-kun." Shiori smiled sweetly at the young man who had cooked their family meal for that night. "We understand."
A blush crept up Yusuke's cheeks. Damn, Kurama's mother was waaaaay nicer than his! She didn't even drink! She must be a saint! "You're too kind, Ma'am!" He held his hands up in self-conscious respect. "But I saw the pictures. It was the bomb!"
As Yusuke laughed to himself, Kazuyu swallowed a bite of the boy's char-sieu men before speaking up. "Were you in school at that time?"
"I—" Yusuke's face crumpled in confusion. He couldn't possibly tell them that he was in Makai back then! Would they ever believe he was constantly on the brink of certain death in an entirely different world, barely surviving all that grueling, death-defying training day in and day out with the help of Hokushin and those other bald monk guys under the dictatorial rule of his ancestral father, the then Toushin Raizen? "I was—"
"He was out of town, 'Tou-san." Kurama answered for him calmly, taking a sip of his soup. It's true. He wasn't merely out of "town," though. But it's still true.
"On a business meeting, I believe," mumbled Setsu as she sketched away.
A question mark suddenly popped above Yusuke's head. "'Business meeting'?"
"Well, you did once tell me that before you became a food peddler, you—"
"Explored other interests," Kurama finished for her as a panic-struck Yusuke clamped both hands onto her mouth.
The ramen chef's palms muffled her next words. "Unhand me before I bite you."
Come on, you two. Not now! Kurama glanced at the two mortal enemies then turned to his parents. "'Tou-san, 'Kaa-san, may I speak with Yusuke in private?"
As soon as they expressed their approval, Kurama bowed his head and dragged Yusuke away before he strangled Setsu senseless.
The Minamino-Hatanaka town car now separating them from the Urameshi ramen stand, Kurama clapped a hand on Yusuke's shoulder and spoke in a husky whisper. "Yusuke, does she know you were once a Reikai Tantei?"
"Beats me," shrugged Yusuke, spider veins pulsing in his forehead from the mere memory of that bitch he so despised. "I never told 'er, but she sure had me goin' there for a sec!"
"I think she knows. About all of us."
Yusuke's eyes nearly lolled out of their sockets. "Nani? But how—"
"That's precisely what I've been trying to figure out all this time, Yusuke."
"So you weren't jus' stalkin' 'er for the heck of it—"
Yusuke froze. Those ruthless green eyes before him said it all. One more word and the next time he blinks, he will find himself in dire need of a third resurrection. Sheesh. As if two weren't bad enough.
Kurama eyed the four humans sitting together in a row before Yusuke's counter. The family guest busily penciled in one kind of ramen after another, darting peeks and glances at the bowls to note the differences in their ingredients.
"You should thank her, Yusuke. Not only did she introduce your ramen to my family; she is even making your entire menu for you as we speak."
"Ehhh?" The immature young man groaned. "Do I have to?"
"That is up to you." The older human-demon turned to face the younger. "She may be on to us, but she has not exposed us to all of Ningenkai."
"Not yet!"
"True," Kurama nodded. "Shikashi, throughout the week she has spent with my family, she has given me no reason not to trust her with them. Perhaps I should give her the benefit of the doubt." He paused. "But just how much?"
As the taller young man closed his eyes, the shorter one stroked an imaginary beard in thought. "Y' know what I think, Kurama?"
"Nani?"
"You might say y' think about 'er 'cause she's up t' no good. But I think you ain't that suspicious of 'er!" Yusuke pointed out, even wagging his finger for emphasis. "Not anymore, anyway!"
I think I know where you're leading to.
"I'd say you're kinda interested in 'er!"
Kurama sighed to himself. Just as I thought. How did you come to this conclusion again? I should have known better than to humor you any more than I already have. "Yusuke—"
"Think fast, Kurama! Do y' hate 'er?"
"Jitsu wa—"
Suddenly cupping his hands around his mouth, Yusuke mimicked the blast of a game show buzzer. "Time's up! See? If y' can't straight out say y' hate 'er, then maybe ya… Know what I'm sayin'?"
The older demon-human shook his head. "She is already seeing the Sniper, Yusuke."
The younger snapped.
"That ugly loser? What's so great about him?" he spat in disgust, not so fondly recalling that devilishly handsome teenage boy who had very nearly taken his life had Hiei not saved him in the nick of time. "But that's not the point, Kurama! So she's taken. In a twosome. Occupado. Why should that stop ya? Those 'third wheels' do it all the time! Why d' ya think the term 'home wrecker' is catchin' on these days?"
"Ne."
Both human-demons froze.
"I hope you don't mind, Urameshi, but I'd appreciate you cooking my order right about now."
Yusuke whirled to face his most unwanted intruder of all. Hey… she sounded politer than usual! But just how much of his "love advice" to Kurama did she hear?
"But I do mind!" grumbled Yusuke. "We're in the middle of somethin' 'ere—"
Setsu refused to let him finish. "Shoyu ramen, as usual. Still two orders, one here and the other to go. Make mine spicy. And reheat sempai's ramen as well, onegai. It's cold now."
Nope, it was too good to be true after all. She still was the obnoxious ox she'd always been.
"Two orders, huh? Aren't we hungry today?"
"Shut up and cook."
The veins in his head throbbing all the more, Yusuke stomped back to his stall with clenched fists and gritted teeth, muttering a long string of profanities under his breath. "If I didn't owe ya big time, I'd—!"
Kurama turned his attention back to his family, all hunched over on the counter and coloring Setsu's ramen drawings.
"Setsuki-chan, may I use this color on the spiral part of the fishcake?" An excited Shiori held up a pink pencil.
Having more fun than he would willingly admit, Kazuyu brandished a chocolate brown-colored one. "How about this for the pork broth?"
"Un." A shyly smiling Setsu nodded to both her elders. "Those look right to me."
A bloated Shuuichi moaned. "I can't do this! I don't remember the colors of all the stuff I ate! I just ate them!"
As the rest of his family laughed together, beneath Kurama's smile was yet another whirlwind of questions.
Was Yusuke just being his usual self, or could he possibly have a…?
A fist clenched in secret.
No. Impossible.
I should know myself better than anyone else.
Green eyes studied the slouched back waiting for two orders of shoyu ramen.
Why two? For whom could the other one be?
Even on the living room couch back home, the now soundly sleeping Shuuichi still dug his chin deeper and deeper into Setsu's shoulder.
He really shouldn't sleep right after eating. Setsu smiled and shook her head to herself, sweeping her cousin's forelocks to one side in a most unusual display of gentleness. He'll get either nightmares or indigestion.
"In the local news," declared the newscaster on TV. "A longtime surgeon admits his own malpractice as the cause of death of his five-year-old patient!"
His legs crossed, Kurama looked up from his file folder. Shiori momentarily stopped ironing the collar of a polo shirt. Shuuichi snored even more loudly than before. Kazuyu pushed his eyeglasses up his nose and raised the volume of their television set with its remote control. A lump caught in Setsu's throat.
A man in a white coat struggled to speak before the camera. "I… I am so sorry! I… I didn't know what I was doing…! All of a sudden, I just… couldn't think! I couldn't think of what to do… what to do first, what to do next… Nothing! My mind just… went blank!" He buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean for her to die! I just didn't come to my right senses in time!"
"Ara," gasped Shiori, adjusting the thermostat knob of her flat iron. "I feel so sorry for him."
"Sir," began the news reporter, already poised to hand her microphone to the direly distressed doctor. "Is it true that you've been practicing your profession for more than thirty years?"
"Yes!" cried the hysterical interviewee. "And tumors are my line of specialization! So it came as a great shock to me that I suddenly didn't know how to go about it! This—this isn't like me at all! I don't just black out! I don't experience mental blocks!"
"The pressure must have gotten to him." Kazuyu took his eyes off the TV screen and turned back to his evening paper.
"I'm sorry! I am so sorry!" The surgeon bowed his head to all the viewers of the local nightly news. "I take full responsibility for what happened to my patient! I accept her family's charges against me!"
"An unfortunate loss," said Kurama to no one in particular, flipping to the second page of his records. "Shikashi, losing a life is all in a day's work to a doctor."
Setsu nodded. "To have so many lives entrusted to your hands…"
Her voice trailed off.
Cold, glassy blue eyes welled up in silent fear.
That has nothing to do with me.
Her front teeth sank into her lower lip.
Nothing!
"'Ji-san, 'Ba-san, may I go out for some fresh air? I won't take too long or stray too far."
She stuffed a plastic bag tightly tied into a ball and bursting at its seams into the side pocket of her hooded jacket and stepped out into the night.
Setsu tilted her head and eyes up at the loftiest tree in the Minamino garden. That black cloak—it was there again, flapping with the wind. It had come to stay for one more night.
Only with you is he truly at peace.
A calloused fist clenched in secret.
You're not making it any easier for me to like you, Hiei.
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, lying before her eyes was the very wearer of the black cloak, his legs stretched out across the length of the branch in which they both hid, his back reclined against the trunk of the tree, and his arms folded behind his head, serving as his pillow.
"Ne—"
A gasp caught in Hiei's throat. Faster than the blink of an eye, he was already on his feet, his hands poised to draw his sword from its sheath. Just when could he ever have a minute all to himself? If it wasn't Kurama disrupting his sleep, it was his… his… whatever this petty creature was to him! If this was already Ningenkai at its so-called most "peaceful," then why must he remain on his guard at all times and at all costs?
"—youkai."
Hiei's eyes narrowed ominously. She knew he wasn't human!
Then again, so what? He couldn't care less.
"Hmph. Waste of time."
He turned his back on her, his feet already raring to flit away into the dark midsummer night, when that low, mellow voice somehow managed to rob him of his ears.
"Leave, and I will believe that you are afraid of me."
Afraid? Him? Apparently she didn't know the first thing about him after all.
"Tch." The jaganshi spat to the side, blood red eyes threatening to take her life.
Setsu suddenly felt a razor-sharp blade pinned close—too close—to her throat.
Steel blue eyes speared through blood red. The two nonhumans exchanged mutually merciless glares, neither flinching an inch.
"The braver your front, all the more I believe that you really are afraid," snapped a snide Setsu. "But very well. Keep pointing that at me. At least that assures me that you're still here."
That damned tongue. Those demonic eyes. That putrid human stench. That useless existence. She annoyed him! And he's staying not because she told him to—foolish ningen!
"What do you want?" growled Hiei between gritted teeth.
"Iie." She shook her head as she jammed her hand inside her bulging jacket pocket and pulled out the plastic ball. "Actually, I have something for you."
No later than she tossed the transparent orb towards him did he slash it in half. An oily brown liquid splashed onto their feet and down the tree branch just as a tangled knot of curly flour noodles broke apart and flew in all directions. A split second after the bright white flash of swinging blade, the sword needled her neck once more.
"Hn." A frown crossed her face. "Did you mistakenly believe that that was a weapon, a bomb, or a trap?" She heaved a heavy sigh. "Too bad. Your ex-Reikai Tantei friend cooked that. I just thought that you've never tried his ramen before. It's really good—but don't tell him I said so, onegai."
So she knows about Urameshi as well! Eyes of blood widened too quickly for even the trained youkai to perceive. Hiei harrumphed again, kicking the wet off his shoe. "Don't get too comfortable with me, ningen. You won't live long enough to regret it."
"But I regret it already, yet I'm still alive."
She felt the tip of his sword pricking deeper into her throat. One more push and he would either cut all her vocal cords or have her head for himself.
"How do you live with it, youkai?"
Blood red eyes narrowed even more. Before anything else, he would have that infernal tongue.
"How do you live with yourself—to get what you asked for, but never have what you wanted?"
She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and hung her head low, consciously nearing her chin to the life-threatening blade.
"I must learn how you live with it, youkai. Each day I live, I tolerate less and less of it!"
Hiei heard it: the untimely, unintended crack in her cry. Choking on her own words! Pathetic.
"I'll take that as a death wish."
"Keep an eye on that jagan," Setsu pointed at the smack middle of his forehead, still managing to chuckle at the pun she had just mentioned even in the face of death. "You never know who or what could want it for itself."
"Nani?" Hiei heard himself utter from outside himself. Who could possibly want to take his jagan? And what just happened? Who is this ningen standing before him now? When—why—how!—did her hair grow out and darken as black as his own? Those cold, wicked eyes—now violet!
"Let's try it again, ne?"
Suddenly the noodles, meat and vegetable strips, and soup that had scattered around them all took to the air and floated back together, forming a coagulated ball of shoyu ramen. The plastic bag that had been sliced in half magically pieced back into the tight ball that it once was.
"Dispose of it as you please. You're welcome."
With that, the girl now with long, flowing turquoise hair and blood red eyes leapt off the tree branch.
Where did she go? Even with his jagan, Hiei could not see.
He did not know which one of her to seek.
Then again, he just didn't care.
Good riddance.
Snorting the mere thought of that insufferable psychic ningen out of his life, a most indifferent, ungrateful Hiei bit off one pointed corner of the plastic bag in his hand, spat the ripped piece of plastic away, and emptied the soup spilling out of the bag right into his mouth.
Restless.
That night, Kurama was just that.
Restlessness was not merely the experience of deprivation of respite or sleep. It was a medical condition. The illness of finding oneself utterly unable to just relax.
It was more than a discomfort. To the chronic restless, it was a tragedy.
His mind gave him no rest. No peace. It wouldn't let him sleep.
So close, yet so far away!
The unrest disquieted him. Why can't he just get this over with? Done? Case closed—cracked—solved? He could just wake her up and demand the whole truth!
But no. Ningen or not, Mayonaka-san had a long day. She needed her sleep, just like everyone else.
It just wouldn't be right.
As soundlessly as he could, Kurama padded off the bottommost step of the staircase and into the kitchen. Fetching his usual mug from the dishwasher, he tugged the refrigerator door handle and brought out a pitcher of ice cold water. He poured himself a glass, his eyes trailing the long, bright streak of light that the bulb in the fridge cast across the dining table.
A gasp caught in his throat just as he swallowed his drink.
There she is.
At the end of the beam of light was none other than the cause of his unrest, her cheek slumped onto the hardwood table, her lips slightly parted. A chuckle of denied amusement—or amused denial—escaping his own, Kurama returned the water pitcher and mug to their respective holders and stole closer to the soundly sleeping form.
Why didn't she just stay in my room?
Both her arms were sprawled across the table, curling around several sheets of plain white paper, a rainbow of colored pencils, and their box.
How territorial, he commented to himself upon observing the manner in which her possessions were all located within the virtual circle formed by her arms.
That clear, viscous fluid dribbling off her mouth and pooling onto an unused page… Was she…
… drooling?
Kurama blinked once, twice. How could such a guarded ningen sleep with this much carefree abandon?
A green gaze then settled on another piece of paper, this time boasting of a sketch in full color. He froze.
Mayonaka-san, you…
And as soundlessly as he came, he bounded up the stairs and into his own room, looking for that long green thing he had stashed away for safekeeping for three months now.
Something was tickling her nose.
A barely conscious Setsu cracked one eyelid open to find the stitched hems of a long, thin cloth right by her cheek. She shifted in her seat and felt it—the same light fabric draped over both her shoulders.
An exhausted, lifeless right hand slid across the polished hardwood table and clapped onto a left shoulder blade, yanking the robe-like material off a slouched back.
A blanket.
Hn? Her other eyelid instantly flew open. Was someone else here?
A blue gaze then settled on another new object in between her left pointer and thumb. She froze.
My missing pencil!
Now wide open and fully awake, blue eyes stared at the near-brand new, still perfectly sharpened green pencil now finally in its true owner's drawing hand after a three-month long disappearance.
I thought that I had lost it for good…!
Giving her mysteriously recovered pencil a tight grip, Setsu eyed the family portrait before her on the table. Kazuyu-'ji-san, Shiori-'ba-san, and itoko were all colored now. All she still had to shade in were sempai's eyes.
Now she could finally use the right shade of green.
Setsu closed her eyes.
Oyasumi, Minamino-sempai.
He still wasn't sleepy. But now he felt like retiring to bed.
A hand glided up the staircase banister and turned a doorknob on the second floor.
Kurama closed his eyes.
Oyasumi nasai, Mayonaka-san.
"Nya~"
Absently nibbling on the end of a paintbrush, Setsu dabbed a spot of yellow ochre paint onto her canvas with her pointer and middle fingertips. The newspapers spread across the carpeted floor of Kurama's bedroom crunched under her feet.
"Nyaaa~"
Her eyebrow twitched.
"Nyaaaaaw~!"
"Where could that cat be?" Shaking her head to herself, a distracted, frustrated Setsu closed her eyes, concentrating on tracing the source of the feline's mews. I didn't even know that sempai took care of one.
Playful claws scratched the wall beneath the sliding glass window.
It's outside the room? Curious blue eyes blinked. Still gnawing the tip of her paintbrush, Setsu opened the window and peered down.
"Kurama!" cried the comically whiskered chibi creature hiding right outside his window, curling up her human-looking fingers into loose balls to resemble cute kitten paws. "Surpriiise~!"
The human-feline hybrid opened its big, cat-like lilac eyes, only to trade stunned gazes with Setsu.
"Wait a second!" A hand suddenly poked out of a long, oversized kimono sleeve and pointed an accusatory finger at the stranger in Kurama's room. "You're not Kurama!"
Setsu eyed the mysterious, light blue-haired teenage girl in an old-fashioned carnation pink kimono comfortably perched on a long wooden rowboat oar. Had she not been floating in mid-air, the otherworldly being could convincingly pass off as a human.
But Setsu knew better.
"I know," she chuckled at the feisty visitor's comment. "He won't be back from his office until tonight. But I could make a good answering machine." She grinned at the flying deity, dimples shyly revealing themselves on the corners of her cheeks. "Would you like to leave a message for him with me—"
The ferry-girl blinked once, twice. Wasn't this human girl in Kurama's bedroom the least bit scared—or curious—of her at all?
"—Botan-sama?"
Kurama punched out of the office Bundy clock.
"But why do you have to leave so soon, Minamino-sama?" cried the young woman in the wine red pencil skirt and stiletto heels not so comfortably striding alongside him.
"Just complying with a client's contract."
He stepped out of the department room.
"EEEHHHHH?" A most startled Botan almost fell off her oar. "How'd you know my name?"
"Of course I know you, Botan-sama," Setsu repeated on purpose, stepping closer to the window ledge and leaning forward, towards the entity hovering right outside the window. "You were the one who fetched me—"
"W-What are you talking about?" stammered the reaper loudly, laughing uncomfortably. "Who is this 'Botan' of whom you speak?"
Setsu cocked a knowing eyebrow.
Even more nervous than before, Botan pressed her pointer fingertips together repeatedly, swallowing a gulp. "But—but—you shouldn't know me! Even if we've met before, you're not supposed to remember!"
I know that I'm not supposed to, Setsu told her silently. But I do. I can't help it.
"In fact, you shouldn't even see me right now!"
"But I do, ne?" Setsu shrugged. "Now that that's settled, what exactly should I tell Minamino-sempai?"
Never in all her centuries as a reaper had Botan encountered a living ningen who could see her—and even intelligibly communicate with her!—without her first having to either possess a ningen body or resort to telepathy. Who was this "friend" of Kurama's? A reincarnation of another ningen who had retained full memories of her past life—and even death? Another youkai? A half-youkai, half-ningen just like him? Why was she in Kurama's bedroom? And if she was perfectly aware that he was "Kurama" in the first place, why did she still address him as "Minamino-sempai"?
Light lilac eyes darted up, lost in thought. Botan dug a delicate finger into her own chin. "What to do, what to do—!" the panicking ferry-girl mumbled to herself. Suddenly her mind hatched an idea. "BINGO!" she cried, pounding her fist into her palm. "You can just tell him you saw a cute little cat by the window!" For the second time, she curled up her fingers to form kitten paws and held them up by her chest, even pretending to claw at the air for emphasis. "Nyaaaaa~!"
"Really?" Setsu's raised eyebrow did not budge an inch. "Last I checked, cats can neither speak human nor fly."
The now-whiskered chibi Botan purred, all curled up in her rowboat paddle. "I can't understand you! I'm a cat, remember? Nya!"
With that, she soared into the summer sky, leaving a long, melodious meow fading in her wake.
Now coasting past the clouds drifting over the City of Yukimi, Botan placed a hand upon her heart. She could swear that it was leaping right off her chest. Its violent thumps were all she could hear.
"What… What was that?" she murmured to herself, infinite wonder pouring out of her melodic voice. "Who was that? And why…?"
Botan shook her head and gazed far into the endless strip of sky before her. "I better tell Koenma-sama!"
Setsu shook her head and gazed far into the endless strip of sky above her. An ageless, actually bodiless female form dressed out of touch with the times and riding on a flying oar. She blinked. And yet she was scared of me.
She popped the blunt tip of her paintbrush back into her mouth and returned to her canvas.
Those deities of Death are so funny.
A salt-and-pepper-haired man in his fifties extended his hand.
"We have been awaiting your return to Meiou, Minamino-kun! A pleasure to have you among us again! Welcome back!"
A smile arching his lips, the returning student gave the chancellor's hand a firm shake.
"The pleasure is all mine, sir."
He could already hear it ringing in his ears—the classroom wall clock oh, so slowly ticking away every passing second of all those grueling hours upon hours of sheer boredom.
Kurama stifled a sigh.
"Hn?" Setsu glanced at the bedroom door.
Shiori pushed it open with the clothesbasket in her hands. "Ara," she breathed upon catching sight of her houseguest's canvas propped on a wooden easel. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb your drawing—"
Setsu relieved her of her load. "That's all right, 'Ba-san. You didn't disturb me at all." Her gaze fell onto the basket she now held by both handles. "Did you come here for Minamino-sempai's dirty laundry?"
The older woman shook her head. "He already washed them. I came to get yours."
"Oh." This time, the younger woman shook her head. "You don't have to, Shiori-'ba-san. Really. I'll do my own laundry."
A playful smile curling her lips, Shiori lightheartedly wagged a finger at Setsu. "Not while you're under my roof, you're not!" Her soft-spoken tone spoiling the seriousness of her pretend threat, she giggled to herself as she strode to her biological son's clothes closet and pulled both knobs open. "You can't hide your laundry from me, Setsuki-chan! Now where did you put those? They must be here somewhere…"
"Demo, 'Ba-san," Setsu could only watch as the well-meaning but meddlesome mother leaned forward into the dresser, rummaging around for a secret set of wardrobe that was nowhere near there in the first place. "I've never even opened that clo—"
Suddenly, a gasp caught in the middle-aged woman's throat.
"Se—Se…" Shiori began panting uncontrollably. "Se… tsuki-chan…?"
What could she have possibly seen? Setsu rushed to her side, blue eyes ferreting out the cause of Kurama's mother's sudden change in disposition.
Shiori drew her hand away from a tall stack of neatly folded clothing, tightening her fist around something she could not even bear to see again.
"What is it, 'Ba-san?"
"Is…"
The terrified mother could not even speak.
"Is… this…"
Petite porcelain fingers uncurled, opening just enough to reveal their secret within—
"Is… this… yours…?"
—A torn shred of cloth, once a bright yellow but had already been discolored for some time. Whatever had stained it had soaked the fabric through and through.
Setsu froze.
Sempai!
A lump hardened in her throat.
Your blood!
"Eeto, Kurama-san, he's really very, very, very, very, very, veeeeerrry busy right now! So if you could just come back to visit him another time, I'd appreciate it very, very, very, very, very, veeeeerrry much!" The overly talkative subordinate desperately implored, sinking to his knees and gripping Kurama's shirttails. "He just hates it when someone drops by just when he isn't expecting company, so please, Kurama-san! Listen to what I'm saying! I beg of you!"
Kurama kept on walking to the doors of the library, never once stopping to look his companion in the eye.
"I know you never come by just to say hello or shoot the breeze, so you must be here on official business, but I still have to tell you—he can't entertain you right now! So if you would just kindly listen to me…! I still want to live to see tomorrow!"
The obstinate visitor hung his head low, hiding endless green eyes beneath crimson hair. "Sumana. But this is urgent."
Paying no heed to the assistant's warnings, Kurama pushed the grand doors open and stepped into the vast hall.
"Is… this… yours…?"
Shiori's hand trembled more and more violently by the second.
Setsu shook her head.
"So this is…"
Setsu closed her eyes. The one-eyed, talking Muddy Bomb that burst from the concrete under him and latched onto his left leg. The explosions—one after another after another after another. The floating, volatile bomb orbs, all invisible to his naked eye yet lethal to his touch. The blood. The look of lust in that depraved devil's eyes. The blood. His satanic victory laugh. The blood. His finally unmasked face. The blood. The duel to the death.
The blood.
So viciously did her teeth gnash against each other that a twinge of pain shot through her gums. A fist clenched in secret.
If you didn't already kill him, I would have! Again and again!
Her eyes going blank, the middle-aged woman in the apron sank to her knees.
"Setsuki…" murmured Shiori to herself, the whole world blurring, spinning around her. "Where… is he…?"
All Setsu could do at the moment were to swallow the lump in her throat and to ease the fears gnawing away at Shiori's sensibilities. "Does he even wear that color, 'Ba-san? We can never be too sure that that's really his—"
"If this isn't his…"
Think positive, 'Ba-san. For both of you. Setsu hoped against hope. Onegai.
"… then it must belong to someone else he caused to bleed this much…"
Setsu winced to herself. She's right…! Sempai, your human mother is much wiser than you mistakenly believe her to be!
"Either way… that's not good…"
She shouldn't have seen it, Setsu told herself the obvious. Not now. Not while that secretive son of hers isn't here to explain himself!
Lost, distant blue eyes gazed out the window.
Why did you keep it all this time, anyway? You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have.
"Is he… in danger…? Where… could he be…?"
Now your walls are crumbling down, one by one.
Setsu hung her head low and bit her lip.
Minamino-sempai.
She closed her eyes.
Help me.
"Please, I'm begging you! Don't disturb him!"
Saotome Jorge's deafening wail echoed throughout the endless rows of shelves in the private Reikai palace library.
A spider vein popped out of a baby's temple.
"You're disturbing me!" roared Koenma, hurling the book in his hands straight at the bungling blue ogre standing right below his stepladder. "Stupid Jorge!"
"K-Koenma-sama!" stuttered the right-hand ogre in jumpy fear of losing either his job or his life, or both. "I tried to stop him, sir! But he just wouldn't take no for an answer! He insists to see you no matter what!"
"Who is that—"
Koenma stopped upon catching earshot of familiar footsteps drawing closer.
"Hisashiburi…"
His head hung low and his eyes closed, a poised, elegant demon-human stepped out of the shadows.
"… Koenma."
Kurama opened his eyes and regarded the toddler prince at the top rung of the ladder before him.
I've come for answers, Koenma. I shall resort to fraud or force if I must.
Continued
Shiori: But how about you, Setsuki-chan?
Setsu: What about me, 'Ba-san?
Shiori: What kind of man interests you?
Mikageshi: *coughYOURSONcough* *whacked with baby grand piano*
*nursing broken spine* Whoa. Setsu is in deep shit. O.O (Ugh, my mouth—it's so foul! I'm turning into Yusuke! XD)
Just in case you were wondering what instrumental Shuuichi the Younger and Setsu were listening—and playing imaginary instruments along—to… Actually, I had three songs in mind. The first one was One-Third no Junjou na Kanjou (Sanbun no Ichi no Junjou na Kanjou / One-Third Pure Feelings) by Siam Shade, the sixth ending song of the anime Rurouni Kenshin. But then I changed my mind to Make You Free (Hisoca's version, not Kimeru's), the third opening song of the anime Prince of Tennis. But while I was typing that part of this chapter, I finally decided to imagine Still Time by Tokuyama Hidenori, the second opening song of the anime Gensoumaden Saiyuki, simply because both its electric guitar chords and drumbeats are insanely fast to follow. XD Do these songs sound familiar to you?
And as for the one Shiori played on her organ-sounding piano… You'll know it when the time is right. ^^
Trivia time: If you've seen an authentic bowl of ramen before—whether in real life or depicted in anime—did you notice that small white flower-shaped ingredient with a reddish-pink spiral in its middle? Yeah, that. It's called the fishcake. Such a pretty thing, but made from fish! I find that hard to digest. (Pun intended.) XD
Happy reviewing! ^-^
Japanese to English translations and abridged YYH glossary
aa and un. Slang for yes and other such words of agreement or affirmation
ame. Rain, used as a nickname in this fic
ara. A Japanese expression roughly translated to the English interjections oh dear or oh my
arigatou. Thank you, less formal than arigatou gozaimasu
atsui. Hot
'ba-san. A contraction of Oba-san, a respectful address for one's own aunt
Botan. Peony, used as a name in this fic
-chan. An honorific used to address girls, animals, or anything that the speaker considers to be cute
char-sieu men. Also spelled as char-siu men; pork noodle soup
chibi. Literally meaning small / little (in size), refers to a Japanese animation style wherein characters are drawn or portrayed with oversized heads and undersized bodies to add a comic relief effect to the current scene
daigaku. University / college
daijoubu. (That's) all right / okay
demo. But
eeto, eh, and hn. Disfluencies of speech (much like the English uh and um), not limited to the Japanese language
gomen. Sorry, less formal than gomen nasai
gomoku ramen. A salt-based noodle soup with mixed seafood, chicken, and vegetables
hai. Yes
heh. An expression of casual indifference (much like a shrug) or smugness
Hiei. Flying shadow, used as a name in this fic
hisashiburi. Long time no see, said informally
iie and iiya. Formal and informal no, respectively
itadaki. A shortened and disrespectful manner of saying itadakimasu, a traditional Japanese expression of gratitude customarily uttered before meals (much like changing a prayer to thanks for the grub)
itoko. Cousin
jagan. Third eye (not to be referred to as "jagan eye," as that would be redundant)
jaganshi. Master of the jagan
'ji-san. A contraction of Oji-san, a respectful address for one's own uncle
jitsu wa. Actually; Kurama almost always uses this when he begins explaining
'kaa-san. A contraction of Okaa-san, a respectful address for one's own mother
kitsune. Fox
Koenma. Little Enma / child of Enma, used as a name in this fic
-kun. An honorific used to address boys or boyish girls
Makai. Demon World (as opposed to the Human World, Spirit World, and Netherworld of YYH)
matte. Wait
mayonaka. Midnight, used as a name in this fic
mengo. Not an actual Japanese word; Mayonaka Setsuki's version of sorry
Minamino. Southern field, used as a name in this fic
minna. All / everyone
miso. Bean paste
moyashi ramen. A thick soy-based soup with bean sprouts, minced pork, and vegetables
nami. Wave, used as a nickname in this fic
nani. What
ne. An expression for seeking confirmation (much like the English tag questions isn't it or okay)
'nii-san. A contraction of Onii-san, a respectful address for one's own older brother
ningen. Human / human being
Ningenkai. Human World (as opposed to the Demon World, Spirit World, and Netherworld of YYH)
nya. An onomatopoetic word for the sound of a cat (much like the English meow)
oi. An expression similar to the English hey, not limited to the Japanese language
onegai. Please, less formal than onegaishimasu
otouto. Little brother / younger brother
oyasumi. Good night, less formal than oyasumi nasai
Reikai. Spirit World (as opposed to the Human World, Demon World, and Netherworld of YYH)
-sama. An honorific used to address someone very respectfully, like lord or master
-san. An honorific used to address someone politely
-sempai. An honorific used to address an upperclassman
setsu. Opinion, used as a nickname in this fic
shikashi. However
Shiori. Guidebook, used as a name in this fic
shoyu ramen. A dish of noodle soup combining chicken (or vegetable) broth and soy sauce, optionally garnished with spring onions, fishcakes, and seaweed, among others; may or may not be served spicy
Shuuichi. Excellence first, used as a name in this fic
sumana. Kurama and other Japanese males say this to mean excuse me / pardon me instead of the politer term sumimasen or the even politer term shitsurei shimasu, but the actual Japanese word for this is sumaranai
tantei. Detective; used in this fic to refer to the Reikai Tantei (Spirit Detectives) Yusuke, Kuwabara, Kurama, and Hiei
Toki no Suna. Sands of Time (toki is time, and suna is sand); used in this fic as the name of an object
'tou-san. A contraction of Otou-san, a respectful address for one's own father
toushin. War god (also translated to Japanese as toshi kami)
Urameshi. Bay rice, used as a name in this fic
youkai. Demon
Yusuke. Ghost helper, used as a name in this fic
For the nth time, if I missed anything that you need translating or explaining, just say so in the Reviews page. Please REVIEW! Thank you! ^-^