Dusk settled over the temple like a well-worn cloak, shadows massing amongst the trees as the sun dipped beyond the mountains and the moon rose in its stead. Wan moonlight filtered through the windows of the meeting room, painting Kalanie in pale silver. Resting her forehead against a cool windowpane, she gazed into the gathering dark.
In the kitchen, Keiko and Shizuru clattered about, preparing dinner for the shrine's battered occupants. Yukina and Botan had spent the last hours tending the wounds the others accrued fighting Taku—Yusuke's shattered shoulder, Kurama's broken ribs, Chu's concussion, and on and on. According to Yusuke, Yomi and Mukuro had fared even worse, and more than one of Raizen's old friends had joined the deceased king in the afterlife, but even still, the losses Taku had suffered had dwarfed anything his puppets dealt in return. By the time Yusuke laid Taku low, never to rise again, the puppet army had been reduced to tatters.
Frowning, Kalanie peered down at her fingers. Iron laced across them, delicate swirls reflecting the moonlight. If she so pleased, she could turn these new markings to rust, just as she had Masaru's name. But she didn't. She chose not to.
She barely stifled a grin.
Chose. She chose.
What an absurdly pleasing thought.
To her left, the door thwacked open and Kuwabara lumbered inside. He yawned, rubbing a large hand across the back of his neck. Spotting her, he drifted over. "Washed off all the blood, huh?"
"May it rot with the rest of him."
Kuwabara's brow rose. "Ah, right. Hiei mentioned you handled Masaru on your own. Hell of lot of blood for one asshole."
She shrugged a single shoulder. "Turns out, severed jugulars are rather messy."
A laugh burst from his lips, so loud and sudden it seemed to startle even him. "Never would have guessed." His gaze dropped to her hands. "So did those fancy silver tattoos of yours show up before or after you killed him?"
"Before."
He whistled softly and snagged an arm around her shoulders, crushing her to his side in a lopsided hug. "Damn straight. I knew you could best that bastard."
She shook her head. Maybe she'd beaten Masaru, but she hadn't bested him. The six years she'd lost to his Binds were testament to that. Still, she didn't argue and instead turned her focus beyond the window again. "All quiet out there?"
"Yup. I stationed Hiei on watch, but I don't expect any activity." Releasing her, Kuwabara shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Honestly, I bet we'll start getting the first reports of defections before midnight. There are some puppeteers left in Demon World, I'm sure. Taku couldn't have been stupid enough to keep them all in one place. But once word of Taku's death reaches the leaders of the demon clans and gangs who'd aligned with him, those alliances will fall apart. At worst, unbound demons will abandon the puppeteers they're serving. At best, they'll kill the lot."
"And you'll be there to pick up the pieces."
He snorted. "Oh, hell no. I won't be anywhere except here, helping get Human World back on its feet. But Demon World won't need me to sort it out. Yomi and Mukuro are chomping at the bit to reclaim Gandara and Alaric. If he has to, Yusuke will manage Tourin—though I think he'd sooner stay here and leave that mess to Hokushin."
Picking at a splinter in the windowsill, Kalanie peeked at Kuwabara beneath the fall of her bangs. "Because of Keiko?"
"Among other things."
"And Kurama and Hiei? Do you think they'll go back to Demon World?"
Again, he barked a sudden laugh. "Well, Kurama was talking about wrapping up his ties to Yomi even before the Fall, so I think that's obvious enough, but Hiei… You're better off asking the shrimp yourself. I'm not going to pretend I understand the workings of his weird little brain." Kuwabara's grin turned sly. "Nor yours, for that matter. I'm guessing the two are more interconnected than you'd like to let on."
She sighed.
Maybe. Hopefully. But there was no knowing for certain. At least, not until she did like Kuwabara instructed and asked Hiei herself.
A terrifying proposal if ever there was one.
A sudden crash in the kitchen interrupted the half-formed denial with which she'd intended to rebut Kuwabara's implication. The heartbeat of silence that followed was broken first by Keiko's faint gasp and then by a gruff, faltering apology that could only be Shizuru's. Nearly in tandem, Kuwabara went stiff, grunting as though he'd been struck.
It took another breath before Kalanie sensed what had hit the highly perceptive siblings, but once she did, the change was impossible to ignore. It shattered across her awareness, tearing the world asunder, halving the great expanse of the universe. Righting a wrong that had long been broken.
The shift left Kuwabara gasping and sweating, his hands white-knuckled as they grasped the windowsill to keep him steady. For Kalanie, the effect wasn't nearly so grand, and almost as quickly as she sensed it, the precise feel of it fell away, slipping through her grasp like some enigmatic, unknowable thing. It floated into the ether. Quick to be forgotten. Never to be experienced again.
The return of the barrier. The separation of the worlds.
The restoration of balance.
Or—as it was to be known forevermore—the Rise.
That night, Kalanie slept at Nomi's side, curled beneath the blankets, her fingers laced through his. In the gloom of her bedroom, he could've been sleeping, catching a much-deserved bout of rest. Not unconscious. Not unresponsive. Yet when she woke, he remained unchanged. Though his chest rose and fell evenly and his heartbeat plodded at a pace that made Hiei's seem breakneck, he didn't stir as the shrine churned to life.
Rubbing her thumb in slow circles along the underside of his wrist, she studied him. Before bed, as the temple had fallen quiet, she'd given him a sponge bath. It was only then, while strands of his malnourished hair came loose beneath her fingers and her gentle ministrations irritated his paper-thin skin, that she properly understood the full severity of his mistreatment.
Oh, what she would've given to shove Taku and Masaru's spirits back into their corpses so she might kill them anew.
A polite knock at the door preceded its opening, and Yukina poked her head inside. "Oh, good. You're awake. Mind if I check on Nomi?"
Kalanie shoved back the covers and sat up. "No. Please do." As Yukina eased the door shut and padded over to the bed, Kalanie noticed the pallor in her cheeks and the tremble in her hands. She gritted her teeth as the apparition settled on the mattress's edge. "If you're too worn out, you don't have to treat him now. I can only imagine—"
Yukina flapped a delicate hand dismissively. "Shush, Kalanie. I know better than to overexert myself."
"Of course. Sorry."
For a time, Yukina worked in silence, her hand pressed to Nomi's chest. Then she hummed as if in affirmation and opened her eyes. "I think he'll recover. With time and nutrition and a little help from Botan and me. He might even wake in the next few days. This isn't a coma, not really. It's more like hibernation, like what Hiei succumbs to after employing the dragon of the darkness flame. While he sleeps, we'll need to feed him."
"I can do that."
Yukina shook her head. "Humans have developed all sorts of medical technology not yet established in Demon World. A doctor in the encampment has the means of intubating—"
"No," Kalanie said sharply. "No tubes. He was intubated for months in the Shell. No more of that. I'll feed him."
"Understood." With a soft smile, Yukina brushed a pale finger across Kalanie's wrists. "Kazuma told me you did this. That you replaced your Binds with iron."
Kalanie flexed her hands. The steel rippled in answer, shimmering and dancing with each twitch of her fingers. "It's like you said. We're shaped by the good and the bad. The Sovereign Binds are amongst the worst cards any soul can be dealt, but they made me who I am—and perhaps that's not quite the nightmare I always thought it was." She cleared her throat, ignoring the crack in her voice as she continued. "I spent years ashamed of these markings, convinced they would be my undoing, but I survived them. I beat them. And I wouldn't have been strong enough to do that if I'd never borne them at all."
Yukina rose gracefully and dipped a slight bow. "They're beautiful, Kalanie. Wear them proudly."
She left without a further word, drifting into the hall, her yukata whispering around her heels. Kalanie stayed with Nomi a while longer, until the scent of breakfast stirred her into motion, her stomach reminding her just how much energy she'd expended defeating Masaru.
Time to meet the first day of the Rise. The first day of the future.
Kalanie anticipated a run-in with Hiei over breakfast. In fact, she'd been counting on it. There were things she had to tell him. Truths that could no longer be avoided. When he made no appearance in the kitchen, she recalibrated. He'd skipped out on breakfast, which meant he couldn't avoid lunch. She'd catch him then and pull him away.
But as noon came and went, the fire demon remained unaccounted for. His bowl of udon went untouched. His seat at the table unoccupied.
Kuwabara noticed her unease. Grinning, he ducked over her shoulder and whispered, "I couldn't pull Hiei off guard duty until dawn. If you're looking for him, his bed might be the place to start." His tone made his meaning clear enough, but he waggled his eyebrows for emphasis before slurping down a mouthful of noodles.
Nosy bastard.
Still, as soon as Jin sauntered from the kitchen—thereby making her not the first to break ranks—Kalanie followed his lead. She scooped up Hiei's unclaimed bowl as she rounded the counter, then darted into the shrine's twisting halls. Her heart clamored against her breastbone, beating like the wings of a bird taking flight as she drew even with his door.
No movement stirred within, but the moment her knuckles rapped against the wood paneling, Hiei grunted in answer.
"Can I come in?"
"Hn."
Urging her hand to steady, she slipped within. Hiei sat in bed, one leg drawn to his chest, an arm braced atop it, his katana and a whetstone in hand. He looked better rested than a night of sentry duty should've allowed, and it took her a moment to realize he'd closed his Jagan for the first time since rescuing her from Masaru. A strip of pale cloth concealed its crease, and only now—without its glow bathing him in purple light—was it apparent how sickly its illumination had made him appear before.
Ducking before his dark gaze, she hoisted the udon bowl in silent explanation.
He cocked his head as he surveyed her and extended a hand. "How's Nomi?"
Even now, with the ability to speak Nomi's name hers once more, hearing it on Hiei's tongue woke butterflies in her stomach. Would the magic of it ever wear off?
"Unchanged." She pressed the bowl into his possession then hesitated, her gaze skittering away from his. "The prognosis looks good—or so Yukina says."
"She wouldn't offer false promises."
Kalanie wrapped her arms around her middle and scanned his room. The map of Demon World he'd painstakingly plotted still hung on the far wall, dozens of pins stuck across its surface. With any luck, it was time to remove those markers. The encampments they indicated should be dissolving even at that very moment.
Clearing her throat, Kalanie glanced back at him. "Where did the rest of our army go after the fight?"
"I hadn't asked. Your guess is as good as mine."
Her fingers dug into her sides, pressing against the hollows between her ribs. "You don't even know where Mukuro is?"
"Hn, probably summoning whichever bastards are still willing to align with her after her idiocy against the puppets."
Whichever bastards? But not him?
Maybe she should've already known the answers to the anxieties jangling in her chest. When he'd sworn off contact with her, he'd promised it wasn't forever. He'd sworn he wanted her. Yet doubt crept in on all sides, the skulking certainty he hadn't meant it the way she hoped eating away at her.
Perhaps he just wanted a nice tumble. A quick lay. After all, he was the Jaganshi. His name would live on for centuries, recorded in Demon World's annals alongside his fellow detectives. In the grand scheme of the worlds, she was nothing, one tiny blip amongst thousands of fighter far superior to her. What sort of long-term interest could she possibly hold for a man of Hiei's caliber?
I want you, Kalanie. And I will have you.
Even the memory of his declaration was enough to send shivers down her spine. They settled in the small of her back, curling into a ball of smoldering coals, flooding her with nervous, sparking energy.
Such pretty words. Precisely what she'd wanted to hear. And yet not enough—not enough to convince her that Hiei's future entwined with hers quite how she dreamed.
Hiei exchanged his katana for chopsticks produced from the drawer beside his bed and slurped up a mouthful of noodles. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking?"
Her heart stuttered.
Of course he'd noticed her jitters. She'd never managed to hide much from him. Why even attempt hiding this?
She curled her hands into fists, her knuckles pressed against her ribs. "When do you leave to join her?"
He choked on a bite of udon. "What?"
"Mukuro. When will you return to Alaric?"
Silence held for a second before his chopsticks clattered into his bowl. His jaw clenched and unclenched, the tendons in the strong column of his throat flexing with each movement. At last, in an utter monotone, he asked, "Is that what you want?"
Not an answer to her question. Not in the slightest.
"Me?" she asked, barely staving off the trembles threatening to crack her voice. "What does it matter what I want?"
He snorted. With a roll of his eyes, he set aside his bowl and smacked a palm against the mattress. "Sit, Kalanie."
She did as bidden, sinking onto the bed's edge. The mattress dipped beneath her, the blanket crinkling, but Hiei scowled and jerked his chin at the spot beside him. She slid closer and drew her knees to her chest.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he drew in a deep breath, then swept his hand up through his hair. "What are your plans now? Where will you go?"
And that was the trick of it, wasn't it? Even if Hiei did want her—really and truly—how could a future be made to work? She was bound to Nomi. After everything, she wouldn't be separated from him. Not now. Not ever again if she could help it.
If Hiei returned to Alaric, where did that leave them? Kalanie would sooner reside in Human World the rest of her life than return to the Forest of Fools and the life Masaru had torn asunder. Six years ago, she'd been content to live in her sleepy, old village until the day Spirit World claimed her, but for all intents and purposes, the Kalanie of six years ago had died and the Kalanie of today would never be happy returning home—if it could even be home without Mazou.
She pressed her forehead to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut. "If Genkai will have me, I'll stay here. I don't know when Nomi will wake up, but once he does, he'll need time to recover. I need to keep him safe. Here seems as good a place as any."
As soon as she said it, she knew it was true.
This temple had become home. It was the first place she'd been safe in years. The first place she'd had allies—friends. The first place where she'd felt like herself. She didn't want to leave it or the people who filled its halls.
But maybe the others, like Hiei, weren't destined to stay here either.
"Hn, the old woman won't kick you out. She's not nearly the crotchety bitch she pretends to be." He paused, glaring at his hands. Bandages twined around his arm, obscuring the dragon and covering his fingers. "From what Kurama has told me, I gather the humans will need years to piece their societies back together. The encampment won't disband for weeks, if not months or years. These people will need protection."
"Then that's my future," Kalanie murmured.
"And mine."
She hardly dared breathe. "Yours?"
"My sister is here. Kurama and Yusuke, too." He glanced sidelong at her, his eyes softer than she'd ever seen them. "And you."
"Hiei—"
"Unless that's not what you want. If you want me gone, if compelling you is something you can't move past, I can return to Alaric."
No.
Hell no.
But the words to reassure him wouldn't come. They bottled in her throat, clogged behind her hammering heart.
Breathless, she twisted to face him. He'd locked his gaze on the opposite wall, frowning at the map he'd pinned in place, and it wasn't until she curled a hand around his neck that he looked back at her.
The first time she'd kissed him, she'd been scrabbling to find herself again. After weeks beneath the fog, he'd been an anchor to reality. He'd been something to cling to, something real and vivid and alive. She'd kissed him with fervor and need, desperate to feel his heat beneath her hands after days of it nestled in her mind.
But now she knew herself in ways she never had before. Her hands were laced not with black ink, but with iron ore—a blessing of her own making, not a curse of his. She was Kalanie. She was free.
And she was terrified.
As her lips found his, trepidation fluttered in her chest. Her pulse skipped and jumped in her veins, thrumming at a pace that might very well kill her. Touching Hiei was like stoking a fire, and his flames burned her everywhere. Her lips. Her palms.
His reaction came slowly and then all at once. One moment he was still, allowing her to guide just as he had the first time. The next, he'd wrapped an arm around her waist and drawn her into his lap. His free hand plunged into her hair, knotting amongst the strands.
The fire roared higher, scorching her to the very bone. She reveled in it. In him. In his warmth. In his strength. In his light.
It consumed her, and she didn't fight it. Not as he slid downward, pulling her with him. Not as they tangled in the blankets, his legs twisting through hers. Not as he pressed blazing kisses along her collarbone and dragged callused fingers along her waist.
At last, after he'd drawn every last breath from her lungs, she eased back, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his shoulders. Eyebrow quirked in question, he propped himself on a forearm. His body slanted across hers, their legs still entwined.
She sucked down a ragged gulp of air, all too aware of her swollen lips and mussed hair, but no embarrassment encroached on her. This was right. This was what she wanted. For as long as she could have it.
"I choose you," she whispered. Then, louder, more firmly, she repeated, "I choose you, Hiei Jaganshi. Not because of a compulsion. Not because of any one thing you said, but because of everything you've said. Everything you've done." His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but she plowed ahead before he could speak. "I choose you, and I hope you choose me, too. And we can work out the rest. Where we belong. What we should do. We have time. If you'll—"
He kissed her, long and languid and deep.
When he broke free, it was not a smirk that curled his lips, but a smile.
AN: I'm so sorry this chapter is coming so late! It's the first one that I've had to finish the day I'm supposed to post. Oops! As a result I haven't been able to respond to reviews from last chapter yet. If I can't tonight, I will by tomorrow. Sorry for that, too!
We're almost done, guys. I'm 99% sure there's just one chapter (and an itty bitty epilogue) left. I'm not ready to leave this story behind, but at the same time, we've reached the end of Kalanie's journey except for a few strands that will get wrapped up next time. I hope you'll all enjoy the ending!
Thank you oodles and oodles to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I think it was the most reviews I've received for a chapter yet. I'm so glad Kalanie's victory was so well received!
(Also, sorry for any typos this chapter. I couldn't do as much proofreading as normal.)
