Future Talk

Chapter 28:

"Creep"


Our plan... well, my plan... to seduce Ryu and pump information out of him never got off the ground. The party came up too soon, he never sent me an invitation like he promised, and the night before Seishou's gala was scheduled to happen I found myself watching a movie in the bedroom I shared with Botan.

She wasn't one for horror films, or action flicks, or mystery, but she did love comedy and romance (fanfictions once again prevail!), so we ended up watching some drama film about a woman with amnesia who is trying to rediscover her old life, only to find out that she's the long-lost-fiancé of a prince, but as much as Botan was invested in the characters and setting, I was invested in making fun of them.

"Look at her hair!" I cackled, flinging popcorn at the screen. "What time period is that from, 1900?"

"Dani!" Botan squealed, throwing popcorn at me. "Be nice! Your hair isn't from any time period at all!"

"As long as it's not the one her's is in!"

I tossed more corn at her. She whacked me across the face with a pillow. I retaliated as such. Had we been in our underwear and had I been a bit more buxom, it could have been a recipe for many wonderful yuri fics or teen-boy fantasies. As it was, we merely courted disaster by threatening every lamp in reach with its impending and pillowy doom. Eventually our revelry reached the ears of the others, however (the call of the endangered lamps is hard to ignore, I suppose) and the door to our room opened with an ominous creak.

Botan's first reaction was to scream, high-pitched and loud, because that's just Botan. I yelled incoherently at the top of my lungs, the burst of hysterically happy-yet-startled syllables punctuated by both mine and Botan's pillows flying across the room. They biffed the person in the doorway's face and fell to the floor, and Kurama seemed unamused. Or did he look tickled, slightly, with that sparkle in his eye? I couldn't tell. His evil and benevolent moods were hard to distinguish.

Botan leveled a finger at him, grabbed another pillow, and hid behind it. "This is a girl's room! You can't just barge in like that, you know!"

"Yeah!" I said, standing on my knees in the middle of our mattress. I put my hands on my hips and glared. I did not pick up on the situation's cliche-ness until it was far too late. "Either throw popcorn, eat popcorn, whack Botan with a pillow, or leave!"

"Hey!" said Botan. "Whack Dani with a pillow, not me!"

I grabbed another handful of popcorn out of the bowl and threw it at her. She caught most of it in her mouth. My hands dropped to my sides in awe. Kurama clapped.

"I think," he said slowly, "that since you aren't being murdered, which is what I first assumed when I heard the two of you screaming like so many banshees—"

I looked at Botan. She looked at me. We traded sheepish grins.

"—that I will have to stay, under the circumstances."

The bottom dropped out of my otherwise happy stomach.

"Well, you heard the conditions we laid out!" Botan said, rising up beside me on her knees. "Throw, eat, or whack!"

"Eat," said Kurama. His eyes scanned the room. "Eat, that is, if there's any left that's not on the floor."

I looked around. Popcorn and empty soda cans coated the floor and bed like a lumpy carpet. We had really done a number on the room; that much was certain.

"Of course there's more!" Botan said, incensed. "See how many bowls we have up here!" Indeed, roughly six gigantic mixing bowls sat between us. Botan and I had popped almost three boxes of popcorn in a fit of whimsey.

Kurama eyed the bed dubiously. "That's not all you have up there."

I looked. The entire bed was a sea of popcorn and empty candy wrappers. "He has a point," I said, and Botan shushed me. "There's too much on this bed."

"There's room on the floor," she said.

"But the bed's so much more comfy," I said.

Botan rolled her eyes. "No, not for us, silly—for the popcorn!"

"We can't just dump it down there!"

"Sure we can! That's what roomservice is for," Botan said, and she pushed all the popcorn off the bed and onto the floor in a shower of butter and salt. "Scoot over and make room!"

I'm not sure how we ended up with me in the middle, Botan on my left, and Kurama on my right, but somehow we all wound up leaning on the headboard like tin soldiers in a row, a bowl of popcorn sitting on my lap so everyone could reach it. Botan pressed play and we settled in to watch.

Kurama leaned over. "What is the plot of this film?" he said in my ear.

"Well," I replied, covering my nerves with talk, "she," (I pointed), "has amnesia, and is engaged to him, the prince," (I pointed again). "She wants to discover her past, but this guy," (another point). "fell in love with her before she found out who her fiance was, and now they're all trying to figure out who she belongs with now that she's just about a different person in all the ways that really matter. There's also a subplot about how her job got given to her old best friend who won't give it back and now isn't really her friend at all, but who is her sister-in-law now that she's married the amnesia girl's older brother."

Kurama seemed amused-yet-perturbed. "Oh. I see."

"Yeah, I know, it's pretty dumb."

"Shh!" said Botan.

"Well look at them!" I said. "Her hair is totally outdated and the guys are treating her like a grill they split the cost of! It's like they're trying to decide who gets to serve up the first round of hotdogs. Feminists probably protested this in droves."

"Well, if you don't like it then we can pick something else," Botan said, miffed, but just then the amnesia girl shared a kiss with her the prince below the sounds of soaring and triumphant violins, and the credits started to roll. "It's over anyway." She handed me the remote with a smug smile.

"Thank you!" I flipped to the movie order section of the TV and started thumbing through the genres. "Ah, here we go—the best section of the lot." I squinted at the screen. "'The Sleeping Giant.' Sounds obtuse. 'Capture.' Captivating, surely, but probably a bit too constricting. Ah, here we go: 'Curse: The Banshee's Grudge.' Promises to be a shrieking good time, eh? It'll do."

Kurama seemed appreciative of my commentary on each title, chuckling when appropriate, but Botan went pale. She brandished one of the empty popcorn bowls in front of herself like a shield.

"Horror?" she said, equal parts outraged and uncomfortable. "Really, Dani, horror? I told you how much I hated it!"

"And I told you how much I disliked romance but noooo, we had to watch your stupid movie anyway. It's my turn. It's only fair."

"She has a point," Kurama said, quelling Botan's protests, and she sulked but had nothing more to say.

The movie started shortly after, and I was pleased with it. Japanese horror—films like "Ringu," "Juon," and many more—had always been more scary than any American movie (Ridley Scott's "Alien," just about everything by Alfred Hitchcock, and "Rosemary's Baby" were notable exceptions, but there weren't all that many others). This film was not a disappointment, with a complex storyline, good acting, and special effects that were surprisingly impressive. The three of us ended up watching the movie in total silence, eyes glued to the screen while our hands blindly groped for the popcorn. We spilled most of it, too intent on the movie to pay attention to where we were scattering kernels. Even Kurama dropped more than a few pieces down his front, but he didn't notice them fall as far as I could tell.

Likewise, I didn't notice Botan fall asleep until I felt her breath on my neck. Her head had lolled into my shoulder, disrupting my concentration on the film.

"Is she asleep?"

Kurama's soft voice made me jump. "Don't whisper!" I hissed. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," he said, and then he said in an overloud voice: "So is she asleep?"

That made me jump even worse. "Don't do that!" I said.

"Don't do what?" His eyes were wide, innocent, and infuriating, and I chose not to answer him. But then, in a very quiet and tense scene of the movie, he said: "I was wondering—"

"KYAH!" I screamed, throwing the popcorn bowl into the air. Botan woke up with a snort, stared at me with my hands clamped over my mouth, shook her head, and leaned back against the headboard. She was asleep in seconds.

Kurama plucked a piece of corn out of his hair, stared at it held between his thumb and forefinger, and raised an eyebrow before putting the morsel on his tongue. It looked like he was wearing a headdress made of popcorn as he chewed.

"You scared me," I squeaked, sitting bolt upright as I stared at him. My heart ran a marathon inside my chest.

"You scare easily, I've noticed," he replied, tossing his hair to dislodge al lthe popcorn clinging to it. "Why do you prefer movies like these if you're scared of them?"

I shrugged, settling back into my seat. "Beats the alternative."

"Sappy romance?"

That got a giggle out of me. "Kind of. What I really meant was that I think I'd be more scared of life if I didn't watch horror movies."

"I'm not sure I follow."

I wasn't sure I did, either, so I just started babbling. "Think of this movie as a scapegoat," I said. "I can be as scared of the banshee as I want, but it'll never hurt me if I don't let it. It's better for me to be scared of this than live in fear of living, you know? I spend all my fear on ghosts so nothing else can scare me." I thought about it. "I bet people go skydiving for the same reasons."

"At any rate," Kurama said, clearing his throat, "I was wondering something."

I felt much more at ease now that we had been talking, though I was still unconvinced that Kurama's foul mood from the day before had evaporated, and I reminded myself not to let my guard down too much. "What were you wondering?" I asked.

He didn't say anything for a long time (probably because the scene on the TV was an intense one), but during a lull in the action he said: "How much do you like Ryu?"

That gave me pause, and not in a good way. I stared straight ahead, barely registering the banshee-the-movie was-named-for's big reveal and the heroine's subsequent flee for her life.

"Kind of a weird question," I murmured as someone was eaten from the inside out by a ghost.

Kurama's eyes didn't waver from the screen, but his face seemed to writhe in the movie's ever-changing light. He seemed almost lupine; fierce in a wild way that I could not comprehend.

"Please answer," he said.

I thought about it, heart quickening. "I… sympathize with him," I said slowly. "He didn't ever tell me what he meant when he said that he'd faced prejudices, but I still… have to understand him. On principle. Does that make sense?"

Kurama's head titled to the side as he studied a person being torn in half by the banshee's shriek. "In a way," he mused, "it does make sense. Birds of a feather."

"Yeah."

"What I said to you yesterday was harsh," he said. "I called you weak, and I apologize for that."

"Thank you."

"I was angry. So much of what is happening has gone according to my plans, but you and Ryu... you defied all logic. It scared me, but not in a way I could write off as a mere movie phantom. And I hate being scared." He swallowed, the bob of his Adam's apple giving his annoyance away. "I took it out on you. Forgive me."

My unease softened, though into what I do not know. "Of course."

He looked sideways at me, green eyes gone black in the dark. "The only thing I will not apologize for," he continued, "is when I called you the most susceptible to pity's snare, because it's true. It's nothing shameful if you've found a person to empathize with. It is, however, dangerous if you give them all your trust. You open yourself up to be used to the detriment of us all."

My voice was so soft even I could barely hear it, but somehow Kurama did, too. "I know," I whispered, looking down at my hands. They seemed lineless and small, white on white and without depth. One was more muscular than the other from gripping the handle of my cane. It seemed like someone else's hand.

Kurama did not reply, not right away. "You know?" he repeated.

"Yeah. I thought about it last night." I took a deep, shuddering breath. "Ryu's got a vicious streak that I don't have. We're not the same, not in the way he wants me to think we are."

"How so?"

Bitterness made my teeth ache. "Because I'm not looking for revenge," I said, "and I think he might be, at least on the inside where he can't see his own hatred festering away in the dark." I looked at Kurama. "I don't hate people who don't understand me. I think Ryu does. I'm afraid of what his version of making people 'understand' might be. We have to stop him and Seishou both. I was wrong."

The man finally looked at me dead on, and his mouth had been drawn into a thin, hard line. I couldn't read him, couldn't read him at all, and that frightened me more than any curse.

"You cannot spare any kindness the next time you and Ryu meet," Kurama said. "You must detach yourself from your own feelings, treat your interaction like a scene from a drama or a play. Convince him you are on his side but give him no quarter and spare no room for doubt. Can you do that?"

It hurt me to admit that I could, and gladly. "Yes," I said.

"You must learn all there is to learn and keep his trust in your hand. You cannot afford mistakes."

"I understand."

"And you must be ready to betray him." Kurama's eyes burned into mine, lighting up the dark like Roman candles. The appeared almost gold, like buttery quicksilver dancing in flickers of light from the television screen. "Can you do that?"

"Yes." I breathed deeply again. "He's giving us cripples a bad name."


I woke up in the morning to the sound of a knock on the door. Botan mumbled in her sleep, but I threw the covers off with a shower of stray popcorn and hopped to the door on my good foot. I could hardly see straight in the light that came pouring in.

"What time is it?" I said through a yawn. I leaned on the door, trying to stay upright.

"Seven AM," Kuwabara said. He sounded as tired as I felt. "A bellhop guy came to the front door with this. It's for you. See? 'Da-ni.'" He pointed at the katakana characters penned onto the front of the pale envelope. "Is that how you spell it?"

"I guess," I said, taking the paper from him.

"And hey, what the heck is your last name?" he asked, but I was too busy dropping my jaw on the floor to answer.

"Is this what I think it is?" I asked slowly.

He leaned forward to see, effectively blocking the vision of the paper in my hands. "Let's see… Uh, it's hard to read upside-down, but I think it says 'You are cordially invited to'…" He stood up straight and deadpanned: "No way."

We stared at one another, faces expressionless, and then turned as one toward the living room. I hopped like a one-legged kangaroo to the couches and sat down, reading with glazed eyes and shivering hands.

"You are cordially invited to The Terrace Ballroom this evening at 9 o'clock," it read. "By invitation only. Formal dress. No admittance to those who are unable to present an invitation upon request."

Feet thundered into the room. I looked up to find Kuwabara standing at the head of a crowd composed of Yusuke, Kurama, Jin, and, inexplicably, Hiei.

"Well?" Kurama asked.

I swallowed, staring at him, and held out the note. He snatched it up and read it, then passed it to Yusuke, who passed it to Jin, who passed it to Hiei. Hiei stared at it, flipped it over, and then flipped it back again.

"What," he said, exuding distaste from every pore, "is this?"

"It says she's invited to Seishou's party," Kurama said, still looking at me.

"Tonight," I managed to grate out. "Holy crap."

"It's the same as our invitations," Yusuke said, taking it back from Hiei and studying it. "Guess you really are invited."

"I can't go," I said, and everyone looked at me like I was nuts. "Dude, I'd be the biggest freaking liability ever. I can't fight, and you said you were going to fight this guy, and I can't even run away if things get dicey. So no, I can't go."

"You're going," Kurama said, tone leaving no room for negotiation.

I negotiated anyway. "No, I'm not. Bad idea."

"Dani, listen, you have to go," Kuwabara said. "As far as we know, Ryu and Seishou have no idea that you're with us. If you don't go they might catch on."

"Yeah, and you're supposed to be buddying up to Ryu," Yusuke said. "You gotta go. This could be the best time to get on his good side."

"I know," I wheedled. "I know, but… it just seems too risky."

"What seems risky?"

Startled, I looked past the boys to the door of my bedroom. Botan stood there in her blue pajamas, looking sleepy with her hair floating loose and long around her, and I realized just how beautiful she was with a pang of jealousy that I quickly squashed. Jin looked at her for only a moment before staring at the ceiling, nose turning red.

"Dani got invited to the party," Yusuke explained.

Botan's sleepiness vanished. "What?" she screeched, jerking the note away from Yusuke. "Give me that!" Her eyes devoured it in one hungry glance. "I must inform Lord Koenma right away!"

"Wait!" said Kurama, and Botan stopped walking toward our balcony doors. "Dani must go to the party. Other than that discrepancy, our plans for tonight will not change." He turned to the rest of the boys, taking the role of leader. "Jin, to your post, now. And Botan, you can go tell Koenma of what's, but he cannot, under any circumstances, come here on his own. It's too dangerous as it is, let alone with this new variable."

Botan nodded. "I understand," she said, and threw open the glass doors. Curtains billowed around her, gauzy white ghosts that covered her body as she summoned her oar. Her hand crackled with a hollow sphere of golden lightning for a second, and then the strands of light stretched until they formed a vague outline of the oar. The object popped into being a second later, and she sat on it sidesaddle without pomp. Her toes brushed the floor.

"I'll be back as quick as I can with news," she said, expression more serious than I had ever seen it, and her hair flew out behind her like a curtain of silk when she zipped away and out of sight.

The invitation fluttered to the floor behind her; she had dropped it at the last second.

"Aye, well, I'll be a-goin' next," said Jin, stepping forward. He scooped the invitation off the ground and handed it to Kuwabara. "You all be careful, ya hear? I don't wanna see no funerals."

"You sure you're OK with just sittin' around?" Yusuke asked, showing more worry than he ever had, and Jin slugged him in the shoulder. I quickly remembered their warrior's connection.

"I'll be fine," said the windmaster. "Though ya do owe me one the next time the action decides to go n' leave me outta things, yeah? Ya take care now, Kurama, Hiei, Kuwabara. And Dani—" He hesitated, eyes on me.

I shook my head. "You know me. I'll get through."

He beamed. "Aye, that ya will," he said, and he grinned at the others. "And you all take good care o' her, ya hear?"

"We will," they chorused, and Jin walked backwards until he hit the balcony railing. The undulating curtains covered him for a second, and I didn't see him fly away. He was just… gone. But then he zoomed upward, having free-fallen before taking flight, and he hovered in midair outside the balcony. He waved, grinned some more, and shot into the sky. Yusuke ran out and leaned over the rail, head craned skyward, and he let out a low whistle.

"Fast," he said, and he came back to us. The door shut behind him with a clack. "So what now?"

"Jin is guarding the Book," Kurama said, more to himself than to any of us, "Botan is telling Koenma of the new situation, Yukina and Genkai are safely out of sight, and now… now we have to wait. There's nothing more to do."

I felt nervous acid kick up into my throat, making it burn. I didn't like to play the waiting game.


Taking out the purple dress felt nostalgic.

"I wish Botan were here," I mumbled, pulling the garment over my head. It seemed like years had passed since we went shopping and came home with my clothes together, but the purple dress made of stitched-together silk scarves still fit me like it had in the fitting rooms. I put on a pair of silver sandals (no heel because I can't wear heels, but still strappy enough to be formal) that were mostly covered by the dress, anyway, but I didn't really care as I put on some makeup and twisted my hair into a pretty knot on the top of my head.

"Botan could have done this better," I said, looking at myself in the mirror, and I realized in that moment just how much I missed the bubbly grim reaper. With a scowl I went into the living room, and then I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Lookin' sharp, boys," I said, and when they turned to me I tipped them all a wink.

"Whoa, you look nice!" Kuwabara told me, and I smiled.

"Hey, ya'll are in tuxes. That's pretty special."

Each wore a black suit with a bow-tie, though Hiei was holding his in his hand like a venomous snake. I'd never seen any of them look so good, especially Yusuke: he really wore the suit well, looking very much like a gentleman.

He didn't seem to think so. "I hate this," he snapped, tugging at his tie. He stood in the kitchen, pacing back and forth. "Man, I hate suits. Mom made me wear one to a wedding once. I never thought I'd have to do it again."

"Aw, quit whining," said Kuwabara from the couch. He looked dapper; the suit really did a wonder on his image.

"It's only one evening," said Kurama. He looked good, too, but when did he not? Still, the red rose in his lapel went quite well with his hair and eyes.

"One evening too many," Hiei snarled. He, unlike the others, didn't seem fitted for the suit at all, but the colors and cut made him look less feral and more human than any of his other outfits.

Kurama went to him and plucked the tie out of Hiei's hands, but when he tried to loop it around the fire demon's neck he was rebuffed by a set of flashing teeth. Hiei had actually tried to take a bite out of him.

"Put it in your pocket if you won't wear it," Kurama said, sighing. "You may need it to get into the party."

"Stupid humans with their stupid customs," said Hiei. "I'll sneak in past their idiot guards."

"I'm sure you will, but keep the tie handy just in case," said Kurama, and Hiei stuffed it in his pocket with a scowl.

Kuwabara pushed up his sleeve and looked at his watch. "Uh-oh, guys. It's almost 'go time'."

"You know what to do?" Yusuke asked me, standing up so he could bounce on his heels in anticipation.

I rolled my eyes. "We only went over this a hundred times."

"Repeat it once more," said Kurama. He waved his hand toward the door; all the boys grouped around it, and I trailed close at their heels.

"Follow in about half an hour, keep in sight of one of you guys at all times, do not approach," I said, sighing. "Pretty dang simple if you ask me."

"And the 'get out of town' signal?" Kuwabara said, opening the door so the others could file out into the hall.

This part made me smile. "One of you will punch someone, then detonate a spirit bomb to clear the room." I reached into the bust of my dress and pulled out my own bomb. Pill-shaped and clear, it would explode with a flash of light and a burst of disorienting sound on impact with a hard surface. Botan had given them to Yusuke back when they first booked the hotel rooms; now they were a part of our escape plan, should we need one. "I'll whack someone with my cane, yell, and do the same." I took the door from Kuwabara and leaned on it, holding it ajar with my weight.

"I guess that makes us ready to rumble," Yusuke said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Now get going. Oh, and good luck and all that, though I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Of course," said Kurama. Hiei grunted in the hallway, looking at me without expression, and then he turned on his heel and stalked toward the elevator. The others followed, bidding me goodbye with waves and smirks, and soon enough I found myself letting the door fall shut.

For the time being, I was alone.


The lobby buzzed with talk, although I wouldn't say that the huge room was crowded. No, not by a long shot. It's just that the wealthy, I've found, tend to speak in voices loud enough to wake the dead. Maybe they think it makes them sound more important, like one of those birds who puffs their feathers up to scare away predators. I don't know. They certainly seemed to be showing off with all their gem-spattered clothing and jewel-wrought hair. I do know is that no one appeared to notice me, little ol' underdressed Dani, standing at the edges of the crowd. I wandered amongst all the well-dressed socialites without much of a goal, but I kept an eye out for Ryu or the detectives and saw, unfortunately, neither.

Now where exactly is this Terrace place? I found myself wondering as I walked across the marble lobby floor. I was about to man up and ask someone (who would look at me down their nose if I had to bet) when I passed the doors to the garden in which I had first met Ryu; they were open wide, and when the warm air from the outside hit me, I stopped.

"The Terrace welcomes you," a sign proclaimed in elegant calligraphy. It seemed to indicate the garden as a destination, so I squared my shoulders and went outside, preparing to lose myself in the maze of hedges and flowers.

No such thing, however, transpired. The paths were all lined with strings of lights and beautiful lamps, and some bushes had been lit up from the inside like paper lanterns. Flowers glowed like gems beneath the stars. I caught my breath in wonder before noticing that parts of the cobblestone path had been covered with carpet the color of spilled wine. Dresses and shiny shoes paraded over the cloth in droves, meandering along it and deeper into the flowering labyrinth.

"Follow the red carpet road?" I muttered, stepping forward. "Aw, what the hell? It still fits the rhythm. Why not?"

The 'road' took me past flowerbeds and straight through the breadflower cove where I had first met Ryu. Many people chose to wind the aromatic flowers into their hair or clothes, but I found the smell suffocating and I hurried out of there. That cove had been especially lit up, the sheer volume of lights making the space glow like daytime.

I've had enough of those flowers, thanks, I thought as I continued on my way. Soon enough I left the cloying scent behind, and not long after I found myself standing on the edge of something I had never seen before.

The building stood at the top of many stairs; made of glass, it seemed to shine from within with golden light, and music drifted out the open doors. I felt like I was looking at a fallen star, one which hadn't lost its gleam, and I froze, staring at it until a couple dressed in formal wear pushed past me with a snigger. I'm pretty sure I heard the phrase 'country bumpkin' as they ascended the steps to what appeared to be paradise.

"Yeah, well, I don't like you either," I said in English, and I began to climb.

The way up was exhausting. I'm not sure how I made it. All I know is that my hair was mostly undone by the time I reached the doormen clad in crisp uniforms and whipped my invitation out of my cleavage. They waved me in without any sign of skepticism (even given my ragged appearance) and I made a beeline for the huge buffet on the other side of the hall. I didn't do much looking around, choosing instead to grab a startled waiter by the elbow. Lucky for me, he didn't drop his tray of delicious-looking drinks.

"Is that," I wheezed, "alcoholic?"

He mutely shook his head, eyes scanning me. I panted out a 'thank you' as I snatched up a glass and downed the contents in a single gulp, and he quickly handed me another cup. Very well-trained. Once hydrated, I said: "You're an angel. Know where a girl can sit quietly for a few minutes?" I rapped my cane on the ground. "Gotta rest this leg, you understand."

He looked down at the cane and gaped at it. "There are seats over there," he managed to get out, and I winked before flouncing off as best as my leg would allow. A seat felt wonderful, but I didn't revel in the feeling of relaxation. Instead, I did what any good spy would do: I catalogued my exits.

All the walls save one were made of glass (wiped spotlessly clean, I noticed), as was the ceiling. The floor had been made of white marble with pink flecks, and somehow the chandeliers (which appeared to float, god knows how) were made of gilt gold. The one wall that wasn't glass had huge golden doors leading to a place I could not fathom, and all the walls except the one with the doors had golden chairs with white cushions pressed up against them in straight rows. Opposite the doors stood a raised area with a grand piano on it (also white), and the only doors in the entire place were the ones I came in and the mystery gold ones at the back. Ferns in huge decorative pots stood in the giant room's corners and in other nooks and crannies.

I guess I could always knock out a wall if I needed a quick escape, I thought, or I could hide in one of the pots, and I stood up. On reflex I headed for the piano, and when I got to the raised platform I stood and stared. Really nice, I thought, looking at it. I mean, that's a great instrument.

"You're the pianist?"

I was startled out of reverie by an official-looking man in a nice suit. His finely combed grey mustache dominated most of his face.

"Um," I said, and he waved a hand at me.

"Well, get up there," he said gruffly. "Your agency already called to say you would be late, but I didn't think it would be this late."

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him I was a guest and not some hired player. He shushed me before I got out the first syllable.

"Since I can't trust you to be on time I guess I can't trust you to have read your assignment. Play something light and classy, but not pretentious. We wanna make the guests feel good but we don't wanna overthrow their conversation. A pretty backdrop, that's all I'm asking." He finally picked up on my flabbergasted expression. "You can play, can't you?"

The response came automatically. "Of course I can," said my musician's pride.

The man would have beamed had he been capable of such a feat. Instead, he just nodded and said "Then why the hell aren't you doing it?" before marching off.

I floundered in the wake of his order, unsure of what to do, but then I realized several guests who had heard our little exchange were watching me, expectant and no doubt ready to pass judgment on the crippled and irresponsible little piano player.

Too much attention, I thought, and I tried to feel but was blocked by a wall of bristling formal attire. The faces atop the attire were in no mood for flighty musicians; they'd rat me out in a minute and probably ignore all my pleas for sympathy. Recognizing myself as a lost cause, I sighed when one of them mimed playing the keys at me, and I started to go for the platform's steps.

"Stupid misunderstandings," I grumbled as I battled with the stairs. I tripped on the last one and managed to catch myself on the piano. The crowd-a good sized one-that had gathered to watch me work tittered, so I straightened my back and tried to look as proud as they did. My butt hit the bench with a plop and I opened the grand piano, playing a few scales to warm up. The instrument was perfectly in-tune, notes flying light and free.

As soon as the first peal of music hit them, the people started to disperse. Obviously their interest in someone as lowly as the pianist only lasted until the pianist behaved the way they wanted it to. Still, I was glad to see them turn their collective scrutiny on someone else, because drawing too much attention to Dani, the already noticeable cripple, could jeopardize whatever the hell it was the detectives were up to. Speaking of which…

Realizing that the piano platform was a good vantage point, I scanned the room to look for my friends. They did not appear to be there, but I didn't really mind as I tapped away at the keys. It wasn't like I could approach them even if we did find one another.

Minutes of friendless playing ticked by, but I didn't abandon the piano right away, oh no, because I could see the mustached man who had ordered me to play buzzing around the edges of the room.

One toe out of line and he'll fillet me, I thought as I wound through the more chill portions of "I've Got Rhythm," and as I resigned myself to a new life as a party pianist I realized something wonderful, strange, and scary.

No one was noticing me. They just milled past without a single glance my way.

To test this theory, I made faces. No reaction from anyone, not even when I pulled my upped lips inside my nostrils and snorted them right back out. It was like they could see right through my body and out the other side.

What, am I invisible? I thought as three women in fine clothes ignored the faces I was making directly at them. They sat down in the chairs behind my platform, obviously looking for a private place to talk, and with a start I realized that the acoustics were such that I could hear every last word they said. What's even better is that they didn't so much as glance at me to see if I could overhear. I could tell that in the eyes of these women, someone of my standing held no more interest or intelligence than a lamp or a chair.

No wonder servants in wealthy houses know so much, I thought, listening to them chatter about everything that was expensively inconsequential, from clothes to money to cars to vacation homes to gossip. They make being a creeper that much more easy. I tried to tune the ladies out, but then I heard one of them say a name that caught my interest.

The one that said it was short, rather plump, and dressed in pale purple. Her dark hair quivered atop her head like a bunch of nervous butterflies; her eyes held all the light that a person steeped in champagne can muster, which was, apparently, a lot.

"Enough of all that," she piped midway through another's story of an African Safari. "You've heard, haven't you? You've heard who the Lord Seishou is bringing?"

"The Lord is bringing someone?" said the second. She, unlike the first, was tall and willowy, but her face had a longness to it that made me reminisce of horses. She wore dark yellow.

"What, you haven't heard?" said Plump-Purple, jowls jiggling as she put a hand to her pert mouth.

"Neither have I," said the last. This one was the most attractive of the three, with full breasts and a pleasant face. Her voice was likewise pleasant; within a moment I knew that she was probably the least stupid of them all, and probably the kindest, too. She wore green that brought out her eyes. "Don't put on airs. This whole thing has been very hush-hush and you know it."

Purple-Plump turned red. "Well, my husband, as you know, is very well connected to the Lord and his closest followers. Tonight's gala is in honor of Lord Seishou's newest and most valuable recruit." Her eyes narrowed, and she smiled. "You mean your husband wasn't told?"

"If he was, he had the sense not to go against the Lord's orders and tell me," said Pleasant. She glanced at Yellow-Pony-Face as Purple-Plump turned scarlet(er?). "Had you heard?"

"Rumors," said Yellow. Her large teeth showed between her lips when she spoke. "A new recruit to be announced tonight, one that has already proven himself to Lord Seishou, though I know not how... I didn't hear a name, nor that he was so distinguished."

"Oh, he is!" said Purple. She practically radiated triumph (or was that just the sheen of her sweat?). "He's so distinguished, in fact, that I'd heard of him before he was recruited by Seishou!"

The other two, for all their apparent dislike of Purple-Plump, seemed impressed.

"Will he be able to help us meet our goal?" asked Yellow, excited. "All the others have failed. Those meddlers from the Spirit World—"

Why hello there, gorgeous, I thought.

"—have taken out the last three that tried to steal… It!" She hissed the last word and the others went very still and quiet. My playing paused mid-chord before I remembered to be invisible. "Do you think this new recruit has tried already?"

"The Lord will tell us if he deems it wise," said Pleasant, wrapping her arms around herself as if she were cold. "I hope this new one is worth the trouble. I'm tired of backing fruitless attempts. We need to succeed, and quickly. The world can't take this much longer."

The others nodded, the light of hope making them appear, for an instant, beautiful. But then that light faded, like it always does, and I was left wondering at their words.

"So what is his name?" asked Pony.

Purple appeared smug. "Oh, he's famous. In fact, he even has one of those intimidating little nicknames the most famous of all the warrior-psychics get."

Psychics? Wait, what do these pampered little bitches know about psychics?

"I read up on him," Purple continued. "He started out as a medium, but now he can do just about anything."

Wait. Medium? My memory ran rampant and pulled up a memory of Koenma, of his words to me in the hospital-that-wasn't. 'A powerful medium stole the Book,' he had said.

But wasn't that medium Seishou? These women were acting like someone else was responsible for the Book's disappearance.

"He can make these daggers that rip the very fabric of space and time; he'll be able to steal It in no time with one of them, I'm sure."

Dagger? Now why is that ringing a bell or three?

"And besides, what jail can hold him when he can be anywhere? And he can astrally project himself, too, and still manage his spirit energy on the other side!"

Now that I've definitely heard before—the medium who stole the Book can do all of that!

Purple seemed like she would burst. "If you ask me, there's no way we can lose with the Subtle Dragon on our side."

I froze, playing dwindling away into nothing.

The Subtle… Dragon?

'Subtle,' that's 'seichi' in Japanese, I thought frantically, and 'dragon,' 'dragon' is pronounced

Seichi no… Ryu?

"Well," said Pleasant, and she stood up. "Let's mingle before the festivities really get underway. I tire of this." She walked off, shivering, and Yellow dashed after her. Then Purple glanced, at long last, at me.

I was thinking, thinking hard, replaying all the words Koenma had ever spoken in my presence so long ago, back when things were simple in the hospital-that-wasn't.

"Twenty years ago," he had said when he first explained everything that was to define my life from that point forth, "a tome of spells called The Book of Beasts was stolen from the vaults of the Spirit World. It went missing and was recovered by my team of detectives." And then, later, he had said: "A band of demons and humans stole the book originally, and they were led by a human medium who projected their ghost into the Spirit World and stole it straight out of the vault. They tried to recover it once it was placed in Genkai's temple."

"What was the medium's name?" I had asked.

"I can't remember," Koenma had said, looking me dead in the eyes.

Which means… I assumed he meant…

Seishou.

"I'm such a fool," I said out loud. "I am such a fucking fool."

"What are you staring at?" Purple asked me crossly.

"Your face," I blurted, and I stood. Her enraged sputter didn't register as I scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face, and that's when I caught that telltale flash of garnet red.

"Wait, you bitch—" cried Purple, stumbling after me as I bolted off the dais as quickly as I could, and I wheeled on her.

"Don't fuck with me tonight, lady," I hissed, teeth bared, and she paled before falling backwards into her abandoned chair. I left her, then, turning on my heel with all the force of a hurricane. I needed to go find Kurama.

Seishou wasn't the one we needed to be worrying about.

Ryu held all the power here.


NOTE:

It's a tweest (twist)! OH THE HUMANITY. Everything you thought you knew… WAS A FALSE ASSUMPTION! Because Dani isn't very smart. Oh ho ho!

The Boys… in tuxes… (*nosebleed*)

So no one appeared to have noticed that Dani has no last name, or at least that it's gone unmentioned. (I forgot about giving her one. Whoops.) It's just never come up. So if you think up a name and pitch it to me, I might just use it. Sound cool? It certainly does to me! I put some choices I made up in a poll. Maybe I should pit the winning choice against your own creations? That might be kind... neat. =D I love polls.

I'm hoping that maybe Kurama's conversation with Dani shed some light on his weird behavior from last chapter.

I'd also like to apologize for the rampant run of typos in the last few chapters. I don't have spellcheck of any kind on my computer (damn computer) but I run the chapters through an online one and they usually catch some stuff. However, when I mistype the word "lamb" as "lamp," it doesn't catch it. I reread the chapters before I post them, but I still miss a bunch (looking at your own work for extended periods of time makes you get used to its faults; anyone who's written a term paper knows that all too well).

Other than that, I don't have much to say besides I LOVE MY READERS! Really, I do. You guys are so helpful and nice; you tell me when I'm being stupid without hurting my feelings! Yay! And here you darlings are: dumbrat, WickedLovelyDream, chocolateluvr13, LadyoftheGags, DoilyRox, Kaiya's Watergarden, Kai-Chan94, Koryu Elric, ShadowFireFox13, crossyourteez, Dyani91, 0nfateswings, colbub, Reclun, ilovemusicrox12, Turtle Kid, rain chant, Out-Of-Control-Authoress, Heart's Icy Touch, Foxgirl Ray, heve-chan, Yaoi-Beloved, Mindchild, Wolf-Cry-Night, Crescent Venus, and xXLoveEachDayXx!


A (LONG) (OPTIONAL) NOTE ON PAIRINGS:

Here are my thoughts.

One thing a reviewer of mine noticed is that I have had very few "moments" (read: encounters that could end up being romantic in nature) between Dani and the Present Koenma. None, actually. Keep that in mind.

I don't think Ryu is a pairing candidate anymore. Before I wrote this chapter I thought he would be, but now… He and Dani would fight too much over certain ideals. Also, hardly anybody likes him. He's too fanatical (and creepy because of it). I love him as a character, but not as Dani's boyfriend-person-thing.

Jin is also out, I think, because when I put that Botan moment in I found that I liked the idea so much that I had to start planning a little side-fic. WHAT. UP. So, sorry Jin fans (which includes myself), but there will be few JinxDani moments from here on out. There will, however, be a JinxOC fic in the near future, because Jin needs his time to shine. I love him too much to just abandon him! Still, GIANT SAD-FACE. He was the least-liked canon character according to the polls, too.

Kurama… is weird. I'm not liking the thought of him and Dani together as much as I used to, partly because I'm writing a KuramaxOC fic with a character that fits him better than Dani does, and now that I've seen that couple I can't go back to anything that's less perfect than it is. He and Hiei are tied for top place in the pairing poll, though.

Hiei, like it or not, is very much in the running, mainly because he and Dani have had the fewest moments of incompatibility and they're both short (ha!). Sure he cut her up, broke her nose, crushed her bad foot, probed her mind, subjected her to mental anguish… but they seem to work pretty well, all of that aside. He's also the most popular among you lot as far as I can tell.

However, as much as Hiei works, I love Future Koenma. A lot. So I have a version of the ending in mind that's rather… well, I can't talk about it or even tell you if I'm gonna use it. But as the next chapters happen, we'll see how the dynamics change.

In the end, I think it's between Koenma and Hiei, for the most part, because Kurama didn't get good reception in the last chapter (my fault, but still, it's true). How's that for weird?