Many thanks to sesshomarusdancer, Selenay Of Antioch, YourrrsTruly, Kactuskat16, Tay, and Baoh joestar for reviewing the last chapter! There isn't a lot I can say leading into this chapter, so…

*CANON CHARACTER(S) DEATH WARNING*

Enjoy?

"Everything that we make

has long been overrun

thought our love could be safe

but know now I was wrong."

—"It's Over" Bic Runga

Technicality

"There isn't much left to say."

The Undoer waits for me to elaborate, but I just shrug helplessly. He clears his throat. "Nothing?"

"Nothing at all."

He seems displeased by the thought. "Surely, you remember some things."

"As I get closer to that day, everything else just feels…" I shrug my shoulders again, hyper-aware of how my joints creak and ache. My lungs are tired from breathing the Makaian air. The wards can only do so much.

"Everything else is hard to remember," I admit quietly. "Everything was just… eclipsed by…" It. I can't say it. I'm scrambling to find other stories to tell so I don't have to talk about the inevitable. The Undoer seems to understand, but still waves his hand towards me.

"Tell me about some of your happier times."

Kuwabara and Yukina were married seven years after Garasuke was born. It was held in the dead of winter, a nod to Yukina's heritage. Hiei made a brief appearance, but didn't stick around for the festivities. The real surprise wasn't him, though.

It was Rui… the woman who had raised Yukina after her mother's death. She'd travelled all the way from the ice-bound island at Yukina's behest. She'd looked profoundly uncomfortable, sitting with her pale hands in her lap. Her kimono was plain for the occasion, though surprisingly not worn or torn from her travels. She had a very neat appearance, and something about her held the ethereal quality of another era—like she was from a portrait taken long ago, faded and glassy. She was, of course, unfailingly polite to anyone who spoke to her, but her words were few. She didn't have the easy, gentle kindness that Yukina exuded.

Once, Yukina had told me that the women of the Koorime race were hard-hearted, cold and unforgiving. Rui seemed to be in the early stages of thawing.

But more importantly, she'd brought news from demon world. Makai was gearing up for another tournament, and this time, there were whispers of even more tournament manipulation than usual. Sponsors, benefactors... and even a tantalizing rumor of a representative from Reikai competing. There was no official rule that every contender had to be a resident of Demon World, but, given that little development, I didn't doubt that there soon would be. Yomi remained as quiet as ever, his son competing in his stead, again. Kurama and I hadn't personally heard from him since he sent that card to us shortly after our marriage, and the three main territories had been pretty quiet.

Old habit made Kurama give me the side-eye as I was speaking to Rui—but he relaxed as the conversation petered off. Makai and all the dealings of the occult still interested me in a wistful sort of way, but it wasn't as consuming a thought as it had been years ago. Now, there were new stressors.

It had been a year since we'd started trying again—with no success. It had been an idle, "we-should-probably-give-Gara-a-sibling" sort of thing, but now… it was a near obsession. We'd both thought of giving up—those thoughts and feelings came in the quiet, careful anticipation that led up to (another) negative test. Doctors had prescribed metformin, different types of birth control to regulate my cycles, etc.—to no avail. As far as we both knew, though, I'd never had a miscarriage. I was just unable to conceive in the first place.

Yukina had more luck in that regard. On her 100th birthday (a scant eight months after she and Kuwabara were married,) she conceived the twins she'd always wanted. They announced it a week later.

Hiei showed up more often, after that. In some ways, it was both surprising and unsurprising with how enamored he was with the twins. However, nobody was surprised when a clear favorite emerged—their son Daisuke—who was clearly an even mix of both his father and mother. The child's hair was a duller shade of red than Kuwabara's, and he alone had freckles—though both twins had the same russet eyes. The other twin, named after her grandmother, Hina, was a carbon (and most likely genetic) copy of her mother—Koorime hair and temperament. I'd never met a calmer, quieter baby. Juxtaposed with Daisuke, little Hina was especially placid. Yukina and I laughed until we cried at the miffed looks the infant would shoot at her wailing brother.

There was a very simple reason that Daisuke was Hiei's favorite, despite his typical babyish mannerisms—and despite the fact that he was undeniably his father's son. No—Hina, while her eyes were a more brownish, muted red than Yukina's, was still a Koorime. A full demon. Daisuke, however, was just like Hiei. Had he been born in the ice world, he would've been exiled, too. Both Daisuke and Hiei were imiko, which is why Hiei didn't seem to mind nearly as much as he should have when the baby took to fussing more often than his sister.

With their arrival, Kurama and I both seemed to, in our own ways, accept the hand we'd been dealt. Gara had cousins, now. They were significantly younger than him, but any siblings we could've given him would have been the same age. The pressure eased up.

"We never did have that second child," I murmur. "Maybe it was for the best."

Yusuke's grand promise of an early marriage to Keiko fell flat, of course—they were the last to tie the knot. It wasn't for lack of trying, though… Yusuke had been begging Keiko to marry him as soon as they'd both turned eighteen. But Keiko, being Keiko, wasn't having it. She made him wait just two years shy of a decade before she agreed to tie the knot. At that point, she'd finished her graduate studies in early childhood education, and Yusuke was officially a partner at her parents' ramen shop, set to take over when they would eventually retire.

Their wedding was, as expected, meticulously planned. It took all of Yukina's, Shiori's, Mrs. Yukimura's, and my concerted effort to heft the many layers of Keiko's kimono onto her shoulders and torso. Yusuke's only saving grace was Kurama and his right-hand man, Hokushin, who both came to the rescue when Yusuke walked out of his dressing room looking unkempt and profoundly uncomfortable. (He still looked uncomfortable after they were through with him, but at least he was dressed properly.) The main ceremony happened at a local Shinto shrine, and was extremely formal. Until he took Keiko's hand just before entering the shrine (and judging by the priest's sideye, he wasn't supposed to even do that,) Yusuke's discomfort was evident all over his features. But by the time they made it to the cushions at the end of the aisle and sank to the floor, his typical relaxed expression was back on his face. He seemed a bit distracted, though—for example, during the three times in the wedding ceremony when he was supposed to drink sake, he tried to drink before the shrine attendant could fill his cup. Every. Time.

But it wasn't the jitters—he kept breaking character to shoot his bride furtive smiles and lingering glances. And judging by the mad flush that threatened to melt off all her makeup, Keiko knew exactly how much of a distraction she was. His fascination with her held none of his typical, mildly lecherous teasing… no; Yusuke was calm, his smiles genuine and wide and not playful, but gentle in his own way. He wore the face of a man who knew the true value of the person beside him. He'd always known, but rarely let his guard down enough to show it so clearly.

I snort at my own foolishness, and the Undoer wants to know why.

"For a brief, bitter moment, I was jealous. Kurama and I were fine at that point… just, fine. Not great. But fine." I carefully watch my hands, staring at my bony fingers with mild fascination as they twist and turn together, wringing out anxiety like water. "They were in love. We loved each other, but weren't in love. I missed it." Despite myself, I smile sadly. "And I still do. I know it's ridiculous. I know there's no going back now. But if I don't still love him, then what am I even here for, right?"

"Do you love your son?" the Undoer asks.

"There you are," I said with a snort, walking up to my son as he turned to face me. He quirked a smile that was so like Kurama's that it was all I could do to stand there, hand on hip, and grin at him. Ten years old already.

"Here I am," he responded, always fluid, sophisticated. Just like Kurama, I thought again.

I shake myself out of the thought, a ragged breath escaping through gritted teeth. No. Not yet. I can't. I won't. I feel his eyes on me, my reaction telling him everything he needs to know.

"Of course," I whisper. "That's why I'm here. Because I can't—"

"Loving your child is no crime," the Undoer rumbles. His gaze is steady and cuts through me like a knife. "That is what you wish—to no longer love him. If that is what you want me to undo, I can tell you now that you've wasted your time."

My breath leaves me in a rush. Kuronue visibly bristles as my hands come up to cover the invisible blow in my chest. I feel suddenly, completely hollow. A waste? A waste?!

"You don't understand," I croak. Then suddenly, rage—hot and furious, wells up within me. "You said you could help me!" I'm beyond mortification as my throat closes and tears start to flow. The Undoer is unmoved by my outburst, and simply stares at me with a placid expression on his face.

"I cannot make you love him less," he admits. "But I can give you the strength to do what you must despite your love for him."

Then his eyes flash, and he stands to his full height. All I can do is crane my head back to look at him.

"Reina," he says, and though his voice is low, I cringe as if he'd screamed my name, "You and I both know that you are stalling. You must tell me everything. Now."

"What're you up to out here?" I asked, casting a quick look at the canopy above us. The green of the new spring leaves—it was February, but that made no difference to Kurama's son—was so bright it made me squint. "Everyone's waiting, kiddo."

"Practicing. Look." Gara held out a small flower bud, which—slowly but surely—unfurled in his palm, and offered it to me.

Genkai had been gradually removing the barriers around his power over the last six months. Kurama hesitantly agreed to it when Gara's psychic energy started escaping in random bursts—or so I'd been told, unable to sense it myself. Talented as his father, he was gaining control of his energy in leaps and bounds. There was still frost in some shaded portions of the forest, but we were standing in a grove that was alive with new growth despite the season.

I reached out and he rolled the flower into my palm. I cupped it and gently touched the petals. "Wow. You're getting really good at this…" Hey, Kurama… look at what your son—

Blank, empty space greeted my little request, and I sighed as I realized that we must've ventured past Genkai's wards. They were very effective at cutting off strands of psychic energy that was forever seeping out of these woods. I didn't worry too much about any stray demons coming after us, but to be safe, I lifted my head and opened my mouth to tell Garasuke it was time to go back.

Eyes the color of bruised rose petals stared back at me from my son's face, making me falter before I could say anything. Then I frowned, and stepped closer.

"Your eyes… they're purple, Gara," I said slowly, wondering. Kurama's used to change color… when he changed into Youko. Maybe he could change them at will too? It made no sense, but… "Did you just do that, or…?"

"Yes," he responded calmly, staring up at me. "Are they still beautiful, mother?"

The Undoer leans in. My fingers are trembling. Fear and hate and bottomless sorrow threatens to swallow me whole. It's all I can do to keep talking. Keep telling my story. The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"Oh." I fumbled, and then reached for his face, smiling as I cupped his cheek in my hand. "Well yes, of course." I was a bit perplexed, but… after all these years, I'd learned to expect the unexpected and embrace everything extraordinary, so I shook it off, smiling down at him. Some part of me realized that I'd dropped the little flower he'd given me.

"Did your father teach you that? It's probably from his side," I babbled unnecessarily as I brushed a nonexistent wrinkle off of the shoulder of his shirt.

"Kurama taught me many things," my son answered cryptically. His gaze was glasslike, cool and collected.

My hand dropped, and I frowned. "That's 'dad' or 'father' to you, smartass." I winked to take the sting off of my admonishment, and turned, starting to walk back to the temple grounds. "C'mon, we're late," I quipped briskly in a no-nonsense tone. "We can ask your dad about it when we get there."

"You still don't understand, do you."

Something in his voice made me stop short.

It was both the soft, young tones of my son… and something else, something cold but curling under it like smoke. I noticed that my heart had started beating a little faster. I dimly realized once more that I'd dropped his flower, that I should go find it before we headed back. Kurama would want to see Gara's flower….

I turned to him, my son, and frowned at him again, a little shaken. "Garasuke…?"

His gaze was cold, his smile thin-lipped. It didn't reach his eyes.

There are only two sounds in the stillness. My voice, and the choked sobs between words. Kuronue has averted his gaze, either in discomfort or in sympathy, or both. The Undoer is watching me closely now, more focused on what I have to say than ever. There is no easy way out of this story. There's no abridged version. There are only the merciful gaps in my memory, the bits and pieces I'd shoved so far down into my soul where they will live forever, but will never be seen again.

And then, there are the parts I can never forget.

I stumbled out of the forest in feverish haste, wondering why and how I had gotten away from him. The burn on my calf ached; I limped into the clearing as fast as I was able. Of course—of course—once I made it, my leg crumpled and I fell into the grass.

"Reina!" the scent of blood had hit Yukina first. She blurred to my side, lifted me into her arms. Her eyes were wide on my wound. "What—?"

As she bent over me, the daisy tucked into her shirt pocket bent forward into my face. I reached up, ripped it away, and threw it as far away as I could. "Tell everyone to stay away from the flowers!" I screamed. She looked at me, her mouth open in shock, glanced at the flower, and then she dragged me to my feet and started running to the gathering with me in tow. I heard her yelling at the others—I felt only crippling relief as she heeded my words without question—and with curious looks, they backed away from the flowers left littered on the tables.

I felt Yukina freeze. "Kazuma!" she shouted. I'd never heard that level of panic in her voice before. "Daisuke and Hina—where are they?!"

Kuwabara came bounding up to us. "I had a bad feeling," he puffed, his eyebrows in a hard line over his eyes. "I took the flowers from them a while ago. What's going on?"

As he shuffled in his pocket, as Yukina urged him to take them and throw them away, I looked across the courtyard and saw Keiko walk out of the temple with a confused expression on her face. She rolled her shoulders, placed a hand on her almost full-term belly. Her warm, brown eyes met mine. As she looked at me, a breath of wind blew her hair back, revealing the sprig of wild lavender tucked behind her ear.

In that moment, I knew—I wasn't going to make it.

As Kuwabara kept pulling flowers out of his pocket, I shoved myself away from Yukina and stumbled towards Keiko. My heart roared in my ears. I rasped her name, unable to speak through my terror and the pain surging through my calf, the panic in my throat.

I wasn't going to make it.

"Keiko!" I screamed. "KEIKO!"

Behind me, a sudden wave of heat toppled me forward. I slammed into the ground, hard, my teeth clacking in my skull. Yukina's and Kuwabara's screams of horror and agony mingled together.

The southern side of the temple exploded with an almighty roar of flame and ash and sudden explosion of splinters. It burst into high, roaring flames a second later. The heat seared my face as I scrambled to keep going, keep running, to stop this from happening please no please no—

—A faint pop, and Keiko's head jerked suddenly to one side, loose on her neck. The last thing that registered on her face was faint surprise, not pain. Her body followed the angle her tilted head created, falling sideways. Her arm moved away from her, as if to catch herself, but went limp just before her fingers touched the ground. Her body fell on the sandy courtyard, rolled once, and was still.

No.

The side of her face that I could see was unblemished, clean of blood. She could have been sleeping. One arm was still curled around her stomach, the other palm up, facing me.

No.

Yusuke, his face smeared with ash, appeared from the flaming side of the temple, and froze the moment he saw Keiko. He staggered forward a moment later, and sprinted to her side, lifting her off the ground, cradling her face in his hands. He released the side of her face that I couldn't see, pointing back at the temple, pleading for help. His palm was red and dripping. Botan and Kurama ran outside from the untouched half of the temple, Botan falling to her knees beside Keiko and Yusuke, Kurama barely sparing them a glance before running to my side.

I heard his voice and felt his hands on my face at the same time. "Gara? Reina? Reina! Where is he, what—?"

Gara. My son. Now I knew why he had let me go, why he had crippled me instead of killing me. He wanted me to see this. He wanted me to watch them die, watch them suffer. Kurama probed into my mind, his frantic thoughts like daggers, and I met his gaze.

"He did this." The words fell from my lips; Kurama shrank back from them, his fingers going limp on my arms. He had no time to answer.

"Kurama!" Yukina. "Please, help Kazuma! I have to save Keiko's baby!" Kurama glanced up, struck from his haze, and released me. I fell forward and caught myself on my hands, the world spinning beneath me in a sickening haze. He left, and Yukina rushed past me. She paused at one of the ruined tables and snatched up a knife. I saw her touch Yusuke, who flinched, and bend towards him, speaking into his ear.

Yusuke answered Yukina's urging with a horrific, guttural snarl. His eyes were bright but somehow dead, his arms curved around the limp form of his wife, holding her close. Botan reached towards him, touching his shoulder. The two of them spoke to him, their suddenly soft tones echoing towards me. Yusuke rolled back on his heels, still clutching Keiko's body to his chest, and let loose a long, keening moan. It twisted something in me, and as he finally released her, laying her on the ground with the care of someone handling precious china, only three words came to mind:

I did this.

I felt Kurama's mind scatter and halt as the truth hit him. His aching pain reached out for me; mine for him. Together, we drifted, the reality of what just happened not fully reaching us yet. He urged me to crest the waves. I pulled away from him, and forced myself to watch as Botan pulled Keiko's shirt up over her stomach. As Yukina brought the knife down with exact precision and care. As Yusuke took long strides towards me, and then, suddenly weak, crumpled to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes streaming, I knew. I did this.

Yusuke stared into my eyes. Blood caked his right shoulder, trailed down his arm. It painted one side of his face, congealed in his hair. Despite his size and the light glinting off his fanged teeth and the madness in his face, he looked impossibly, utterly frail. He gazed at me with an unwavering expression on his face and I knew that his weakness wouldn't last, that it wouldn't stay him for long. He looked at me and I knew that he laid the blame on the right person. His eyes bored into mine and I tried to plead to him silently: I did this. Kill me. Please, kill me. He squeezed his red-rimmed eyes shut and I knew that he was content to let me suffer as long as I deserved.

The clearing was utterly silent, save for the crackling of flames as Genkai's temple burned to the ground.

Behind me, Kuwabara groaned as Kurama healed his wounds, and his children—well, whole—cried softly at his side. Before me, past Yusuke, past Botan and Yukina and the body they worked over, the temple was in flames. Genkai was nowhere to be seen, and nobody seemed to care that the flames were growing steadily higher and brighter, black smoke blotting out the sun. The wind was still, and Garasuke was nowhere to be found—long gone, I knew… waiting for the next moment to strike.

He'll pick them off one by one.

And then—the faint, mewling cries of new life in the midst of death, feeble and warbling but there, and the sound hit me with more force than I could handle, and Yusuke crumpled under their weight, a deep, agonized groan digging its way from his chest. He fell forward and clutched his hair as if to rip it from his skull, and sobbed into the dirt, his shoulders shaking, his whole body trembling. I didn't have it in me to do anything but lie there, watching Botan lift the impossibly tiny form into her arms as Yukina rushed into the burning temple. I shuddered as Yukina returned and wrapped the blood-soaked infant in several towels, and stared unseeingly as she walked towards us.

"Yusuke," she whispered. Her voice shook and broke on his name.

Without a sound, he stood, turned, and strode past her, going to Keiko's side once more. He lifted her in his arms again, buried his face in her hair, and rocked back and forth, not crying, not screaming, nothing. Utterly silent. Something about him made Botan keep her distance. Abruptly, something moved into my line of sight, blocking the heart-wrenching scene before me.

"Reina," Yukina begged. "I-I'm not…" I looked up at her, saw the gems at the corners of her eyes, and felt the chill in the air. She knelt beside me and offered me the child. "I can't. I can't keep her warm. I…" The tears fell with gentle sounds against the small bundle in her arms. She was losing control of her emotions. She couldn't hold herself together.

Her. A girl. Something twisted in my chest. I held my arms out to her, and felt the slight weight settle in them. Yukina rushed off to Kuwabara's side, and I stared at the child nestled in my wooden arms. She scrunched up her face and waved her little fists, leaving spots of drying blood on my arms and chest. Her head turned inward; she rooted, searching for the mother she would never meet. I didn't deserve to hold her. I shouldn't be the first to cradle her and hold her little body close for warmth.

"I'm so sorry," I gasped, and the tears began to flow.

Keiko. Keiko. Oh holy, not Keiko…!

Genkai, my mind whispered. She wasn't here either. She had been meditating in the temple. The flames had consumed most of it by then, hungrily gnawing away at the wood. Blistering heat surged out towards the clearing.

Garasuke set a bouquet of flowers near the old psychic's knee. Her only acknowledgement was a faint nod; her eyes didn't open.

Keiko.

Genkai.

Garasuke.

All dead, all gone. I mimicked Yusuke's silent rocking, staring ahead sightlessly as the baby stirred in my arms. Her mewling protests didn't register, only her faint heat, her delicate life. I knew—I knew that I'd lost a child. At least Yusuke had this tiny, precious thing. Mine was gone, but I didn't feel empty, yet. I was too full of grief for Keiko, for this child's motherless future, to register every loss fully. Even the one that should be closest to my heart.

He had come back for me.

My body had nourished him, brought him to life. I had cared for him, sacrificed for him, loved him without question. I had brought him into this world. I had brought him down upon us all.

How many more times would he circle back, choosing his kills, till only I remained? His intent, surely, was to kill me. How many more families shattered, friends slaughtered? My fingers tightened on the towels Yusuke's and Keiko's daughter was swaddled in, and to her, I promised:

"No more." My lips pressed against her tiny, pink forehead, as she wailed, hungry and searching. As Kurama looked on, watching each plan flit through my head, I wondered how. I tried to shove him away, but he picked out my plot and grasped it tightly, resolutely. I knew he wouldn't let me. But it wasn't just up to him anymore.

I scrambled to my feet and nearly fell over. Slowly, surely, dragging my right leg and gripping his child tightly, I made my way over to Yusuke. He seemed to notice me approach, because he stopped rocking. He didn't look at me as I sank into the dust beside him. His eyes were red and dry, staring sightlessly.

"Yusuke, I—"

"Forget it," he murmured. "It won't bring her back."

"I did this," I whispered. His eyes cut swiftly to me.

He took a breath and released it. "No." His voice was a dark snarl, and his eyes were red. "He did." Something akin to doubt glinted in his eyes, and he turned away, his unspoken words choking him.

The Undoer seems to know better than to ask me any other questions.

I am exhausted, completely spent. There is nothing left in me to say. Kuronue lingers near me without touching me, his presence alone solidarity enough. I burrow deep into my own guilt and shame and grief, and it's nice not having Kurama here to read my thoughts. For the first time in a very long time, I'm free to feel.

The Undoer is speaking quietly with Hiei across the room. I watch with a detached sort of fascination as he puts the last remaining pieces together.

"It was a technicality," Hiei utters from his corner. His bright eyes glow in the darkness. "Kurama lost the match against him at the Dark Tournament. He came to collect."

The Undoer's back straightens, his eyes going wide with surprise for the very first time. I can tell that he's figured it out. He knows what—who—my son actually is. I know, and yet, the name still stuns me like a killing blow.

"Karasu."

I debated dropping this on y'all. Somehow, it felt too soon. But the story was kinda lagging, so there you go!

We have one more chapter of past/present tense, and then the one after that we'll catch up to the present.

And, uh, we're so not done with the angst. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Sorry (not) sorry! XD