Hello my lovely HB Nation. After 100 Days of a Hiatus, I am back, just in time for the HB Week! Apologies if this is a little rusty, it's been a while since I posted anything. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this little tale.
Day 1: Something I Want
Hiei banged a fist against the old air conditioning unit until it sputtered and whirred out a pathetic semblance of cold air.
He'd been exiled to a cramped rental in the middle of nowhere for the past week now and he still hadn't gotten used to the place. Characterized by its utilitarian layout, creaking tatami floors and rickety sliding doors, the rental was a far cry from the spacious and modern apartment he called his own back in Tokyo.
But he wasn't here for comfort and this wasn't a vacation, despite what Mukuro claimed.
He was here to work.
To write.
If only the damned words would come.
Hiei trudged past the sea of discarded drafts littering the faded tatami mats and reclaimed his spot at the kotatsu. His laptop was low on battery and he considered letting it die entirely. The blank document displayed on the dimming screen afforded him no more inspiration than the crumpled storyboards covering the worn table. The writer sighed as the evidence of his incompetence continued to pile up around him.
His first book, The Imiko, was an instant hit with the masses. The story seemed to blow up overnight, reaching levels of success and critical acclaim that he never cared to dream of, much less aim for. And before he knew it, he was saddled with the gargantuan task of expanding the novel into a trilogy, loosely titled: The Forbidden Child. He sighed, lifting his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Others might have thought of the opportunity as a stroke of good luck or fortune, but it was soon becoming a heavy burden to the writer. He hadn't been expecting this level of achievement, nor did he know what to do with it. The Imiko was mainly written for himself - the story inspired by his own origins and experiences. He never expected it would gain such traction; he never thought he would be pushed to write more. But here he was, strong-armed into expanding the fiction he only wrote and published on a whim. After weeks of fruitless efforts and failed drafts, Mukuro sent him away on a sabbatical. His editor believed that time away from the city would provide him with the clarity and creativity required to work on the sequels.
He thought she was crazy.
After years of working together, she should have known that he would be reluctant to the idea. He worked best under pressure. A change in pace wouldn't help and he certainly had no intentions of slowing down or relaxing. It simply wasn't his style. But she didn't give him much of a choice in the matter, relegating him to a small town in Kyoto with nothing left to do but suffer through his writer's block.
Crimson eyes passed over the mess of reference books and abandoned outlines before drifting towards the balcony window thoughtlessly. The town was quaint, bustling with a different kind of energy than he was used to. Large, sprawling trees with thick branches and lush foliage replaced skyscrapers and looming buildings. The townspeople moved without any haste or urgency, all seemingly content with taking their time. Worst of all, they all treated him like one of their own, despite his obvious aversion to it.
As if on cue, there was a series of knocks on his door. Hiei's expression darkened. The same persistent woman came around every day, without fail, attempting to meet him and welcome him to the building. His plan of ignoring the pest was getting him nowhere, so today was the day he decided to take action. He ripped his reading glasses off with far more force than necessary, discarded them on the table and stalked towards the source of that infernal knocking.
When he wrenched the door open, Hiei found himself face to face with bright blue hair, curious doe-eyes and slightly parted pink lips. The woman's fist was still suspended mid-air, slender brows rounded in surprise as she stared back at him.
"Oh!" she said, expression lifting into a jubilant smile. "The elusive resident of 2D finally makes his appearance. Why, I was beginning to think you were a ghost!"
Hiei's scowl deepened at her bubbly disposition and odd accent. He had half a mind to close the door and lock it behind him, but he knew that it wouldn't solve anything. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her critically. "What do you want?"
"To greet my new neighbor of course," she answered warmly, not at all discouraged by his cold and gruff response. "I'm Botan. Welcome to the Spirit World!"
Confusion ran rampant over the writer's features as he tried to make sense of her words. "The Spirit what?"
The woman - Botan - laughed, her voice light as air as she continued. "It's just an inside joke. You'll understand once you spend a little more time here."
"I won't be here long enough to care."
And even if he was, he still wouldn't bother with any of the customs and traditions that came with a small town and its closely knit inhabitants.
"Right, Koenma did mention you'd only be here for a handful of weeks..." she acknowledged with a nod. "Even so, I've got a job to do and you're lucky enough to have fallen under my jurisdiction!"
Hiei gritted his teeth to prevent himself lashing out with harsh words and an even harsher tone. He wasn't a fool. He knew that Mukuro sent him to this town because Koenma was its benefactor and, as such, the interfering son of Enma could easily keep tabs on him. The fact that they assigned such a loudmouth to the task only served to infuriate him further. He didn't need assistance. He didn't need to be guided like an incompetent child. He was perfectly capable of handling himself and his writing, even if his editor thought he did a piss poor job at it.
"I don't need minding, woman," he snarled. I'm not a child."
"Huh?"
"You're here because Mukuro asked you to be, aren't you?"
The bluette shook her head, her ponytail swaying with the action.
"I'm not sure who this Mukuro person is, but I'm here on behalf of the town! We like to welcome all of our new residents. Introduce them to the locals, familiarize them with the area, that sort of thing..." she explained with an easy wave of her hand. "It was my turn to take the helm this week, so I'll be your friendly neighborhood guide."
"That won't be necessary," he dismissed, beginning to turn away. "I'm not here for leisure."
Botan took a step closer.
"Well, surely you could spare a few moments to eat?" she insisted, raising her free hand to display the plastic bag in her grip. "I figured you might be hungry..."
A savory scent greeted his senses, prompting his stomach to grumble its consent. Hiei's brow furrowed as he wondered why his body would choose to betray him now of all times.
Botan muffled a giggle.
"Well, that answers that question," she stated. The woman's smile extended softly, a hopeful light in her amethyst eyes as she regarded him. "So, what do you say?"
Hiei hesitated, caught between his warring wants and needs. He hadn't eaten all day, too wrapped up in the struggle of trying and failing to produce something worthwhile. It was already evening time, the summer sun casting its golden hue inside the apartment through the gaps in the blinds. He hadn't eaten anything other than a protein bar earlier that morning, and the fridge and shelves were pitifully empty due to his insistence on staying indoors and powering through his craft. He wasn't so stubborn to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, if he accepted dinner from the woman, then he could spend the rest of the night writing and worry about food in the morning. There was little to no sense in rejecting the offer, so he found himself nodding begrudgingly.
"Super!" Botan beamed, traipsing past him and skipping into his temporary abode as if she owned the place.
He shut the door behind her and observed the woman for a few moments through scrutinizing eyes. She was humming a cheery tune as she rummaged through the cabinets for two plates, cutlery and glasses. It was unsettling how at ease and comfortable she was with an essential stranger. He could have been a serial killer for all she knew. But the woman's lack of self preservation wasn't his problem, so he busied himself with clearing the kotatsu of his dead-end drafts. It wasn't long after that until Botan was setting the dishes down before him with a flourish.
"Tada!" she announced. "Yusuke's famous nikujaga."
He had no idea who Yusuke was, but as he situated himself in front of his meal and began to dig in, all other thoughts flew out of his head. The food was good - better than good - and he had to force himself not to scarf it down like a starving animal. Perhaps he had been neglecting himself far worse than he realized. Perhaps there was some merit to Mukuro's claims that he needed monitoring.
He would never admit that aloud, though.
For a while, the room was blanketed in a welcomed and oddly comfortable silence. Botan ate in small, leisurely bites while her wandering eyes took in the state of the apartment. The blinds were closed, only allowing the barest minimum of sunlight in. Reference books sat askew in various places, while wrinkled and balled up pieces of paper were tossed haphazardly everywhere else. He hadn't bothered maintaining the kitchen much, and he could spot his poorly rolled up futon through the half-closed bedroom door. He would have cared if he had any shame. As it stood, he couldn't be bothered by something as minor as appearances when there were far more important things to worry about. He half expected the interfering woman to mention the mess, but what came out of her mouth next caught him completely off-guard.
"I never would have pinned you for the fanfiction type, Hiei."
"Fan-what?" he repeated through his last mouthful of perfectly marinated beef.
"You know, fan stories based off of published works?" she said, waving her chopsticks towards one of his drafts. "Isn't that what these are? The Imiko fanfiction?"
Hiei swallowed slowly, choosing to remain silent. He assumed she knew who he was based on the mere fact that she was apparently close with Koenma. But the longer she eyed his work, the more apparent it became that she had no idea who he was. As it turned out, the son of Enma really did know how to keep his mouth shut - and that was well and good. The last thing Hiei needed was for people to find out his identity.
"I've never read The Imiko myself, but it's all the rage nowadays." Botan's purple eyes were sparkling as she pushed her cleared plate aside and picked up one of his drafts. "Still... I didn't pin you as a fiction reader, much less a fanfiction writer!"
"That's not what this is," he grumbled, snatching the sheet of paper from her clutches defensively.
Apparently, the woman mistook his irritation for humiliation.
"There's no need to be ashamed. You're free to like what you like," she encouraged in an attempt to be helpful.
"I'm not embarrassed."
"Then why is your face turning red?"
It could have been a myriad of things: anger towards Mukuro for strong-arming him into this little town, frustration at his own inability to overcome his writer's block and annoyance at the woman's interfering inquisitiveness. In all likelihood, it was probably a combination of the three. But she was the one who was carelessly flitting all over his last nerve, so it was fitting that all the blame be cast on her. "It's because you're infuriating."
Botan's mouth fell open in shock, before pulling into a frown. "Well, that's not a very nice thing to say to someone who's only trying to encourage your interests!"
"You aren't listening."
"And you're deflecting!" she countered. "Really, Hiei, it's okay to have hobbies. In fact, I wholeheartedly support it!"
"It would be a little counterproductive to write fanfiction about my own story, woman," he revealed.
"Your story..." she echoed, eyes growing wide in disbelief. "You mean you're the author?!"
"Took you long enough."
"How on earth was I supposed to figure that out? You use that pseudonym - j-something or the other!"
"Jagan."
"Right!" She snapped her fingers and nodded eagerly. "That's the one!"
"I assumed Koenma would have told you."
"He didn't say a word," she confirmed petulantly. "But I'm going to have a talk with him later. I can't believe he kept such a juicy secret from me!"
"Hn."
Her displeasure faded quickly enough, melting into a look of excitement as she clasped her hands together. "This is so unbelievable. I've never known any authors before!"
"And you still don't. Sharing one meal doesn't make us familiar with each other."
"Of course not, but the night is young!"
"Not interested."
"Oh, come now! It wouldn't kill you to switch up the routine," she suggested. Her gaze passed over the apartment with an air of judgment. "Unless this disarray means you've been churning out page after page..."
His expression darkened. "I obviously haven't."
"Then you have time for a little more human interaction and a little less of… whatever this is."
"It's work."
"It looks like torture," she returned. "Have you even left the apartment since you first arrived?"
Hiei averted his gaze.
"That settles it, then: we're going on a stroll!"
"You can do as you please, woman. I'm staying right here."
"First off, it's Botan," she corrected. "And secondly, you're coming with me. The fresh air will be good for you. Who knows, it might even jumpstart some new ideas."
"I doubt that."
"You'll never know unless you try and it certainly couldn't hurt."
He wanted to dismiss her entirely, but as he watched her collect their dishes and deposit them in the sink, he couldn't ignore the thread of truth intertwined in her words. He was going stir crazy staring at these white walls. Even more so now that this nagging woman was on his case.
Botan approached him again with a hopeful expression. "So, what do you say?"
Hiei let out a deep sigh, resigning himself to his fate. "Five minutes and then you leave me alone."
"You've got yourself a deal mister author."
"Don't call me that."
"Fine, mister buzz kill."
He followed her out of his apartment silently, traversing through the hallway, down the stairwell and out of the building. Crimson eyes squinted against the brightness of the sunlight as its warmth enveloped him. The air was heavy with humidity, intermingled with the scent of sweets and the sounds of children playing. Overhead, the sky was nearly the same shade as the woman's hair, bright and vast and filled with puffy clouds floating by. He took a deep breath of fresh air and released it slowly. He couldn't remember the last time he stepped outside. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he did anything except toil over his work.
A trio of kids ran past them, their little feet slapping against the dirt path as they giggled without a care in the world.
"Good evening boys!" Botan called out.
When they took notice of the bluette, all three of their expressions brightened.
"Hi Himura-sensei!"
Their high-pitched voices jumbled together into a discordant cacophony, but there was a clear note of fondness running through the noise.
"Headed to the park?" she asked knowingly.
"Yeah!" the redhead replied, pumping a fist in the air. "We're gonna catch beetles!"
"Sounds fun!"
"You should come with us!" he urged.
"Dummy," the blond to his left chastised, nudging his friend. "Can't you see she's on a date?"
"A date?"
The blond lowered his voice into what he thought was a whisper, but his voice still carried regardless. "Yeah, you know, what grown-ups do when they like each other."
"Ew."
Botan shook her head. "You've got it all wrong, boys. Hiei's just a friend!"
The black-haired one eyed Hiei up and down before wrinkling his nose. "I don't think he's a good influence, Himura-sensei. You should be careful."
The other two nodded their fervent assent.
Hiei resisted the urge to glare at the trio, opting to look away instead. Children were the worst.
"That's not very nice, Hiro," Botan dissuaded. "He's really not so bad once you get to know him."
"He looks kind of scary," one of them noted.
"And mean."
"And dangerous."
Hiei's jaw ticked.
"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be just fine," Botan reassured, trying and failing to hide the mirth in her voice. "You three should be on your way. Those beetles won't catch themselves, right?"
They nodded obediently and skittered off after bidding the bluette a quick and polite farewell. Her expression softened as she watched them disappear down the rolling hills.
"I take it you're a teacher," Hiei surmised as they began walking again.
"Bingo, you win the prize!" she beamed. "I've got the most adorable class of second graders under my wing. They can be a handful sometimes, but I wouldn't trade them for the world."
He nodded wordlessly and fixed his gaze ahead. It was the golden hour - the moment before the sun began its slow crawl towards the horizon - and the world around them was swathed in warm, rich color. The sky itself was shifting from blue to gold. The dirt road turned copper under their feet as long blades of verdant grass tinted amber beneath the sun's radiant light. Time seemed to slow down, all urgency drifting away on the invisible summer breeze.
"Typically, this is when you'd chime in…" Botan teased, treading a little closer to him.
"Hiei Jaganshi. Author."
"I already knew that much, silly!" she giggled. "Isn't there anything more you can give?"
"No."
"Well… what brings you to our quaint little town?"
"My editor forced this furlough on me."
"Forced?"
"I'm supposed to be working on the sequels to The Imiko," he explained. "It's proving more difficult than I thought."
He didn't know why he was telling her this, especially considering it wasn't supposed to be public knowledge. But he found the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. It was the strangest thing. He'd only known her for the better part of an hour and somehow found himself telling her more than he did with most others. Pushing his hands in his pockets, he decided not to overthink it. Nothing good came out of that. Besides, the cooling breeze felt good on his skin and the rustling sounds of the wind in the trees filled him with a tranquility he hadn't experienced in quite some time.
"The readers want more," he continued. "The publishing house demands another hit. And my editor expects the manuscripts to be submitted to her before the year's end."
"And what about you?"
Hiei raised a dark brow at her.
"There must be something," she tried. "Something you want?"
Something I want, he thought to himself.
"Although, I suppose you've already reached a respectable amount of success with The Imiko," Botan considered, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Maybe there's really no need to want more."
Her words bounced around in his mind, refusing to settle. He had reached an unthinkable level of acclaim with his first book. And when he signed the contract for the trilogy, it was a logical, rational decision. The Imiko was a commercial hit; he would be insane not to capitalize on it. Ever since then, he'd been writing out of duty and obligation to the contract. He needed to uphold his end of the deal.
But somewhere along the way, he lost sight of the things that mattered. His zeal. His drive. His purpose. He was writing for all the wrong reasons.
When he thought about - when he really dug deep and considered it - he did want to continue the story. Not for any editor. Not because of any contracts. Not out of obligation to his readers. He wanted to do it for himself. There was still so much he could do with it. There were so many avenues to take.
He wondered why it didn't occur to him until now.
"The story isn't over," he stated lowly. "What I want is to finish it. Organically."
An almost proud smile unfurled over Botan's lips. "Then that's exactly what you should do!"
For the first time in a long time, he found his inspiration returning. The ideas began to flow freely, new possibilities and paths originating out of nothing but a simple conversation with a simple woman. He should have gone back to that tiny, dark apartment and wrung out every last detail running through his mind, but he remained where he was. His feet were rooted firmly to the place where he found himself again. For the first time in a long time, he knew exactly what he wanted.
Hiei would complete the story on his own terms. He knew he could do it now and it was all thanks to the interfering, persistent, and meddling bluette beside him.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. It was odd, the way she seemed to outshine the sun. Maybe it was that sky blue hair, or those warm eyes that he couldn't quite pin the color of. Perhaps it was the sincerity of her smile as it stretched over her face and lifted her features. Or maybe it was the upbeat and bubbly disposition of hers. Whatever it was, he found himself wholly unable to turn away.
Hiei never put much stock into the idea of a muse - his work was a direct result of his effort and not the byproduct of anyone else - but the longer he stared at her, the less foreign the concept seemed.