Please read Disclaimer in Prelude.
Title: Firebird Sweet C20: Falling In Love Again
Author: JaganshiKenshin
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond
Rating: T
Summary: Fond farewells as the boys depart for America.
A/N: Hey, ffnet people, my accompanying sketches are up on my lj homepagey. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.
Champagne all around!
Firebird Sweet C20: Falling In Love Again
by
Kenshin
Late February in Tokyo is a season of change. During the normal course of events, temperatures vary from the 50s down to the 30s. Often, early florals such as hardy bulbs will bud out. But this season was abnormal, still suffering the effects of record highs throughout much of December and January, and the plants didn't know whether they were coming or going.
Neither did Kurama.
Already at the Kuwabara house, he reflected that it was now almost a year since Hiei had gone to America and returned, himself forever changed. And as Romantic Soldier was leaving tomorrow for America, a party was in the works. But Hiei had not yet appeared, and Kurama wondered what was taking so long.
Though physically back in fighting trim, Kurama was not quite used to his new persona. It was inevitable that one day he would again have to fight demons. He hoped Shay-san was right, and that he could scare them off.
Perhaps he was destined for life as a pop star instead.
But waiting up in Kuwabara's room with Kuwabara and Yuusuke, Kurama thought music had abandoned him as well. Yuusuke's incessant drumming on a chair made him want to bite something.
And the two boys kept looking at him with such ill-disguised pity, as though he was in some way damaged, that Kurama could not take much more of their silent brand of concern.
Damaged goods. He supposed that, in a sense, he was.
Which put him more or less on the level of Shay-san. Yes, he was bigger, with martial arts skills that she lacked. But she still had her powers, without which they might not have defeated White Sands Serpent, and she had a Dragon, though as far as Kurama could tell, she seemed determined to ignore its existence.
Yuusuke tore out another drum riff.
Kurama rose. "I'll just go and see what Shay-san is up to." He waited with her in the living room, where she admitted to a case of nerves. Kurama supposed his were worse.
So when Hiei burst through the front door and announced, "It's terrible! Terrible!" Shay-san shot to her feet, and an eel of apprehension shot through Kurama's belly.
Hiei flung himself onto the couch. Head in hands, he muttered a litany Kurama could not hear.
Imagining the worst, Kurama exchanged frightened glances with Shay-san. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Hiei lifted his head. He looked up at Kurama, his crimson eyes wide and staring. "It's awful," he whispered.
Alarm tightened Kurama's throat. "What is?"
Hiei rose dramatically. "I have no vibrato!" he shouted, then collapsed back onto the couch, moaning piteously.
Kurama briefly considered strangling him. "I'll lend you some of mine," he got out, between gritted teeth.
"Thanks," sighed Hiei. "You are a true friend."
"And thanks for the heart attack," spat Shay-san.
"That voice coach," bemoaned Hiei. "He also made me take off my shirt."
"Made you take off your shirt?" they chorused.
"Yeah." Hiei's look was perfected innocence. "That's when he assured me appearance matters more than ability."
"Lucky for you." Shay-san rolled her eyes.
"Imagine that," said Kurama, just managing to un-clench his teeth. "Voice lessons, and us leaving in the morning. How very eleventh-hour of you."
Hiei folded his arms. "Anything worth doing is worth doing late."
"Remind me to remind you of that when I kill you later on," Kurama said.
"It's true, though. And not only do I have no vibrato, but he said I scoop."
"You scoop?" they chorused again.
"I scoop. Awful, isn't it?"
"What's scoop?" murmured Kurama, in Shay-san's ear.
"Sliding up in pitch to the note you're supposed to be singing," she murmured in return. "Old-style jazz vocalists used the technique."
"I don't know whether we can afford to be seen in the company of a scooper," said Kurama.
"I'm out of here." Shay-san said abruptly, and headed up the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Hiei demanded.
"To slip into something more comfortable."
Uh-oh, mouthed Hiei, exchanging glances with Kurama.
Hiei, too, was approaching physical peak again, though he still could not summon his Dragon.
Father Brian thought it could be retrained, but Kurama wondered if Hiei's loss felt anything like losing Youko. That, Kurama reflected, was akin to losing an eye. Your vision eventually adjusts, but you are never the same. He could still recall Youko, that old soul, wise and canny and daring, but could no more summon him than Hiei could his Dragon.
Kurama was now as fit and tough as any 16-year-old boy could wish, but Youko's demonic powers had given him the quite useful ability to fight at a distance. Almost all his weapons, including the Rose Whip, were meant for standoff combat.
Hiei, skilled swordsman that he was, no doubt felt more comfortable in close-quarters battle.
As if reading Kurama's thoughts, Hiei raised an eyebrow. "You really planning to kill me later?" he asked.
That was when the doorbell rang. Abandoning the question of Kurama's 'threat,' Hiei went to let the first guest in, and a heavily-accented voice shouted, "Surprise!"
It was Lermontov. The Russian dance instructor swept through the doorway, commanding the room with his imperious gaze.
"What are you doing here?" Hiei said rather weakly.
"I?" sniffed the Russian. "I was invited. And I did not arrive alone. If I am not welcome, perhaps this will change little rebel's mind." Reaching into a pocket of his voluminous coat, Lermontov produced an icy bottle of champagne.
"It isn't anyone's birthday," protested Hiei.
"No?" thundered Lermontov. "But you are going away. Is almost as good as birthday!"
"Hey." Shizuru's voice came from somewhere outside, and she sounded rather testy. "Make room for the food, can't you?" Kuwabara's sister squeezed past Lermontov, followed by Kuwabara's friends Ohkubo, Kirishima and Sawamura, each of whom staggered under a towering stack of bentou boxes from the Yukimura diner.
Shizuru cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed, "Little bro'! Get down here!"
Kuwabara and Yuusuke thundered downstairs to relieve the other boys of their burden, while Shizuru stage-managed the placing of food and drink on a makeshift buffet in the living room that was also laid out with cigarettes and sake.
"Oh," drawled Lermontov. "Others are coming up path." Moving away from his prime position at the door at last, he gave way for video director Yukawa Kenji, who bowed to everyone with a great deal more effusiveness than Lermontov. Then came the delicate beauty Ibuki.
There was a noticeable pause at her entrance.
Kurama found himself admiring her white-blond hair, caught up in contrasting jet-black combs, and her brilliant aquamarine eyes that swept the room with open, childlike curiosity. He was not alone in his fascination: Sawamura, Kirishima and Ohkubo simply stood and gaped.
"I'm so happy to be able to meet you all at last," said Ibuki, in a voice more apropos of an 11-year-old girl; Kuwabara's three friends nearly swooned on the spot.
Shay-san remained upstairs. Poor thing, thought Kurama, missing all the fun.
With Kuwabara's friends stuck like deer in the headlights, Kurama beat them out, helping first Ibuki and then himself to some food. Ibuki, he soon learned, was rather shy, and appreciative of Kurama's reserved manner.
"Is that negimaki?" came a plaintive squeal from upstairs. Shay-san galloped down, in a slinky black cocktail dress that made her look every bit as glamourous as Ibuki. The effect of a movie-star entrance was spoiled somewhat by the fact that Shay-san had a twin tucked under each arm; she gave one to Hiei and one to Shizuru, then loaded a plate with beef rolls.
She was still shoveling negimaki into her mouth when the doorbell rang again. Soon the house was filled with people: Genkai, Father Brian, and Yukina. Dr. Smith. Keiko and Kaasan. A couple of Shizuru's friends from the hair salon, and even Atsuko, on her best behavior.
"Yukina-san!" Kuwabara's voice soared; he shot to the ice maiden's side like an arrow to the gold.
Ibuki was then cornered by Shizuru's friends, who marvelled at the candy-floss sheen of her hair. After that, Kurama contented himself with observing. For a while, it was the twins, and not pop idol Ibuki, who were the center of attention. Michael and Cecilia got fussed over by all females present---and surprisingly, Lermontov.
Yuusuke wondered, loudly and often, how anyone could enjoy himself at a party littered with mothers and wives. Kuwabara seemed oblivious to everything but Yukina.
Glancing at Hiei, Kurama wondered how he was handling that particular development, and the crowd; Kaasan was in a corner whispering to him, with Hiei nodding. No doubt Kaasan was telling Hiei it was impolite to immolate party guests.
Or perhaps she was asking the fire demon to look after Kurama. Kaasan knew of Kurama's loss; her support came in the form of behaving toward him much as she had before, which Kurama most gratefully accepted.
Finishing with Hiei, Kaasan joined her son. Dr. Smith had staked out a territory around the buffet, exchanging talk with Father Brian, who was visibly relieved to find another English speaker.
Then Smith turned his head in the direction of Ibuki, hemmed in again by the gaping, stammering trio of Kuwabara's friends. Excusing himself from Father Brian, the doctor motioned to the buffet, calling to Ibuki in an impressive voice: "Room for one more, Honey."
Turning pink with relief, Ibuki scurried to join in, squeezing herself into place at the doctor's side.
Kaasan flicked a glance filled with merriment at Kurama. "You can't help but do a bit of matchmaking," she whispered.
"Maybe you can't," Kurama assured her. "The rest of us have no trouble resisting the impulse."
"True," sighed Kaasan. "Smith-sensei's a bit old for her."
Kurama gave his mother a fond smile. "And I'm far too young, so don't even think it."
There was a brief lull in the background roar. Elaborately, deliberately, Shay-san strolled to the buffet, extracted a cigarette and lit it. Holding the cigarette as a prop, she turned a chair around, straddled it dress and all, then cast an insolent, amused glance at her audience.
Hiei ordered, "Cut it out."
Arms crossed on the back of the chair, she slanted Hiei a smoke-filled look. "Make me."
"Not in front of the children," Hiei retorted.
Kurama got the feeling Hiei wasn't referring to the twins.
When every eye was upon her, Shay-san began to sing:
"Falling in love again
Never wanted to
What am I to do?
Caaaan't helllp iiiit."
"What's so damned funny?" Yuusuke whispered to Kurama.
"She's imitating Marlene Dietrich," Kurama gasped, holding the stitch in his side. "A German-American film star from the 1930s. And she's right; Hiei sounds just like her."
Kurama found a couch to fall into. He was sure he had broken some ribs laughing.
The rest of the crowd responded with applause. "Woman." Hiei leaned over her chair. "This is a bit much, even for you."
She waved a langourous plume of smoke into his face.
Hiei growled, "Put out that cigarette."
"No sense letting good smoke go to waste," said Lermontov, holding out his hand. Shay-san relinquished the smoke. Bowing deeply, the Russian presented it to Shizuru like it was a diamond ring.
Shizuru locked gazes with Lermontov for a moment, then took a deep, grateful drag.
"What do you know," drawled Shay-san. "Lermontov developed a case of manners after all."
"Maybe we should have made him the twins' godfather," said Hiei.
"No finer godfather than a man o' the cloth," said Father Brian, baring his teeth in a combative grin. "You chose well for once, y' little pissant."
"This godfather business." Lermontov raised a supercilious eyebrow at Hiei. "Is baby thing, no? I don't do babies."
"Spoilsport," muttered Shay-san, depositing CeeCee into the Russian's lap.
"Such pretty face." Lermontov addressed the little girl. "So much better-looking than your rebellious pipsqueak of a father."
CeeCee gurgled.
"And much better sounding, too," added the Russian.
"Seriously," began Hiei, "if you want to know the truth, I hate the sound of my voice."
"So do I!" agreed Lermontov.
"I wasn't speaking to you," said Hiei frostily. Fixing each of them with a mournful gaze, he went on, "Really---I listen to myself and think: This guy has an IQ that makes Kuwabara seem like Einstein by comparison."
"I heard that!" bellowed Kuwabara.
"You were meant to," Hiei shot back.
"Nobody sounds the way they think they do." Shay-san rose from the chair. "Even Lermontov."
Hiei shut his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"
"Well, if it's any consolation," Shay-san purred, "I love the way you sound."
Hiei brightened. "Really?"
"Get a room, you two," suggested Shizuru.
Kurama pressed one hand to his aching ribs. "Marlene Dietrich," he snickered.
"I would have said Bing Crosby myself." Hiei leveled a murderous glare at him. "But that's just me."
"Heh heh." Kurama escaped to Yukawa Kenji's side, speaking at length with the jovial little director about home video equipment.
Kenji, Lermontov, Ibuki: all good people at heart, and Kurama was pleased to include them as friends.
Ibuki continued to draw Kirishima, Ohkubo and Sawamura like a magnet, while Shizuru allowed Lermontov to light another cigarette for her. At last, Shay-san hauled the twins upstairs for bedtime.
After that the party wound down. First to leave were Genkai and Yukina (much to Kuwabara's chagrin), and then Father Brian caught a ride with Smith-sensei. Ibuki followed, apologizing right and left; she had an early call the next day. She left flanked by Lermontov and Kenji, with Kuwabara's friends on their heels.
Then came the steady trickle of guests out the door, and they were alone---or as alone as all six of them could be.
"Too many people," Hiei muttered. "Good riddance."
Now that was the old Hiei. Kurama could not repress a grin.
"Okay, I'm bored now," said Yuusuke.
Please, thought Kurama, let Genkai have walked off with his drumsticks.
"I got a new flying game." Kuwabara waggled the unopened box at Yuusuke as a kind of challenge. "Crash And Burn. Gotta keep your plane in the air when it's being shot at and stuff."
An inexplicable shudder ran through Kurama as the two boys stormed the TV and began the video game.
Hiei and Kurams watched the combat for a bit, Kurama from the couch, Hiei standing. "This whole thing's been like an amusement park ride," Hiei sighed. "Sometimes I can't even believe in it."
"Believe in what?" Kurama was curious.
"The band. How I make my living now."
Oh, that...
Hiei flicked a glance at the kitchen; a burst of female giggling rose. "That song, Chasing the Dragon. Didn't really expect my father to show up on my doorstep, but---" He straightened. "Don't even know why I mentioned it."
Sitting, Hiei jiggled a knee against Kurama's, spoke in English. "Looking forward to the American audience?"
"I hope it's true. What your voice coach said."
"That I have no vibrato?"
"That appearance matters more than ability."
"Keh. Don't worry about either in your case. Now me---"
"You'll do fine, too."
"Yes. Me and my no vibrato."
"Stop it." The sounds of Yuusuke and Kuwabara battling it out with airplanes nagged at Kurama's memory. "The first time you went to America, you got into deep trouble." Involving, he realized, a plane, which went down over the Pacific.
"No, really?" Hiei gave that soft snort of a laugh. "But your meds got us out of it."
I'm thinking of planes, he's thinking of El Chupacabra. "You seem to forget that my powers have---"
"Don't you have a supply of drugs left? And don't they still work, even without your ki?"
"But when those are gone---"
"You'll just have to compound them like a regular pharmacist."
"I don't know..." Kurama kept half an eye on the game. Yuusuke had sent Kuwabara's plane spiraling down to earth, smoke trailing from its ruined wings.
"Worried about the gig?"
Kurama shrugged.
"Don't be. The audience will be too absorbed in me to pay you any attention: 'Oh, look at that poor man who has no vibrato.'"
Kurama did not quite say out loud: If I'm worried about me, Hiei, then why is it you whom I see falling from the sky, blasted by flames not of your own making?
But Hiei seemed incapable of mind-reading now. "You'll love the estate," he said. "And the family. You have something in common with the cousins already."
"Which is?"
"They also think I'm an arrogant, obnoxious jerk."
Kurama drew a deep, painful breath. His friendship with Hiei had blossomed into something akin to brotherhood---due in no small measure, he reflected, to the events of the past year.
Hiei was now more than just a battle ally and the first in the human world to know of Kurama's triad nature. He had matured into an amiable companion, as though death, however briefly he had experienced it, had purged him of the pretense of not caring.
Hiei, in the process of becoming. On the great arc of that swing between the old man and the new: its first shift had come about from battling and losing to Yuusuke. The second, Shay-san.
Kurama could not distance himself enough to understand what part he himself might have played.
Silence. The game had ended.
"Hey!" Kuwabara's voice scaled up. "You beat me!"
Yuusuke dusted off his hands. "What a shocker."
"Why, you---" growled Kuwabara. "You can't just write me off like that! I demand a rematch."
"What for? You know I'll only beat you a second time." Yuusuke rose and stretched. "Let's order a pizza!"
"Yes." Without turning his head, Hiei cut his eyes toward Kurama. "And it's coming out of your salary."
0-0-0-0-0
Across town from the Kuwabara residence, in the Minato-ku district, Warehouse Four was also humming with activity. Redshirts crowded around the rack of surveillance equipment, monitoring the movements of people who had left the party. Others bustled back and forth between the big warehouse space to the office, bringing food and drink.
The Boss was on his feet again.
The water sprites had relented at last, chanting over the demon king for days, mystifying Carlos. When their song was finished, the Boss regained consciousness, weak but lucid again.
The Boss had lost some of his barrel-chested appearance, and a good part of his bluster, but his determination did not seem in any way diminished. With his canny black gaze he tracked the movement of the two oni serving them sake and octopus dumplings.
"America?" queried Carlos, in a voice that only the Boss would hear. "Forgive me saying so, but---isn't that beyond your reach just now?"
The Boss gave the ghost of a shrug. "I'm done screwin' around." He poked at the octopus without enthusiasm, and waved away Carlos' offer of sake. "When the target comes back, he's gonna see what we did here while they was gone."
At the office door, both oni gave a ragged cheer.
-30-
(To Be Continued: Only In America)