(Standard disclaimer: I don't own YYH or its characters; they are the sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shonen Jump Comics Weekly, Studio Pierrot and Fuji Television)

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Shiori came back to herself, smiling softly at the memory. Feeling a pair of blood-red eyes on her, she looked up; turning that tender smile on the small hiyoukai still perched on the window sill. He was still her Irascible Imp; as much her own as Shuiichi had been, and she loved him just as she had her only child.

Seeing her look, and the smile she gave him, Hiei started. Dropping his eyes from her face, he squeezed them tightly closed, his hands curling into taut fists.

"How?" he whispered, so softly she could barely hear him. "I don't under….."

"Hiei!" she broke in quickly rising from her place on the bed and going him. "What is it? What's wrong?" She reached out, gently placing her hand against his cheek. He stiffened at the contact but did nothing to rebuff it.

"Hiei," she tried again, "daijobu desu ka?"

He shook his head, fists tightly clenched; ruby eyes still closed, refusing to meet hers.

"Tell me," she prompted.

"How can you do that?" he asked his voice low. "You look at me with such love…" He raised his head; anguished eyes opening to fix her with a look so full of desolation it hit her like a physical blow. "Why?" he choked the word out.

"Because I do love you," she replied simply.

"NO," he gasped, voice raw with his grief. "You can't… you must NOT!"

Hiei twisted away from her touch, and she was sure, then, that he would leave; jump from the window to the tree outside and run, never to return. Yet he didn't, though some part of himself urged him to do just that. Instead, he huddled into himself, drawing his knees up to his chest, his arms resting atop them. Lowering his head, he hid his face in his arms.

Didn't she understand? He was Hiei, the imiko; outcast and hated by his own race. No one was supposed to care about him, let alone love him. And yet, this woman did. She… and another.

"Hiei?" Again Shiori reached out, placing her hand on his arm. This time, though, he did not respond to her touch. "Look at me."

"Please," he said, his voice muffled against his arms, "don't you understand?"

Slowly, he raised his head, eyes bright with unshed tears as he gazed back at her. Reaching out, he clasped the hand on his arm, squeezing tightly. Shiori winced, but did not remove her hand from his grasp.

"He loved, Kaasan… and he's dead now… because of me!"