This chapter contains a couple of spoilers relating to Fox's Mischief. If you've already read it or Wonderful Journey, then don't worry. Which reminds me, I should put that warning in over there…Also, Magus, you finally get the answer to what your question was about. Pay careful attention to Aislin!
——————————————————————————–——
The midsummer twilight weighs down the city like a favorite blanket, softening edges and bringing out the scents of evening on a gentle breeze. It plays with a few last pieces of laundry still drying on clotheslines and the inky bangs of a certain disguised fox clambering in squirrel-style up the side of a large maple to eel out along one thick branch.
One graceful hand reaches down and knuckles rap in a soft tempo on the window just below him, a window that is quickly opened by a girl with silver hair. "Hi, Haru. Come to visit me in my isolation?" teases Zephyr, bracing her elbows on the windowsill.
"Well, it has been three days," the fox chuckles, chin resting on his crossed hands. The branch is at the perfect height for him to just lay there, hidden from casual passerby by a screen of deep green leaves, and talk to his sister. "I missed you."
"Missed you, too," replies his sister with a silent laugh. "It's too quiet around here now, not to mention it's boring just doing homework. Have you caught up on yours yet?"
"Just barely," Obsidian assures her with a face filled with disgust. "Came damn close to being able to swim in it, ne?"
"Hon'too so desu," sighs the vixen. Her hand reaches up and brushes her bangs out of her face in a habitual gesture. The jewel and characters are invisible in this human form, having been set while the twins are in kitsune form (Kurama had presided over the fourth ceremony in a secluded park corner just a few minutes away from the Uotani home). Were the twins to transform into their furry-eared selves, the character for 'strength' would be visible in glittering crimson on the right side of the jewel in their foreheads.
The Ruby-Soul had given the twins an approving nod before commenting in a dry tone that it was about time someone had woken her up. Once again there had been no trip to the Void, something the kits were grateful for since it left them more energy to slog through the enormous pile of homework their absences had generated.
"Yusuke's been making up for lost time with a vengeance," Obsidian offers in the way of news, smiling to see Zephyr perk with interest. "He's giving the entire city an overhaul and most of the pesky intruders have decided to find themselves more fitting quarters. It's odd though," he adds, face growing puzzled, "that almost none of them have tried going back home. It's like something's stopping them."
"Makes less work for Mom, she's been complaining that she's getting too old to go chasing after stubborn spirits lately." Zephyr rolls her eyes at the though of what she sees as overdramatic complaints on the part of her human mother, then makes a grab for the marmalade streak that bounds onto the sill, then the branch. "Kizi!"
"Hello, neko-chan," Obsidian chuckles while the cat purrs and greets him with a face-rub, the fingers of one hand tickling the tabby under her furry chin. "Nice to see you again, too." A few annoyed grunts escape him when Kizi chooses his back as her next nap-site and jumps over his head directly onto his spine before arranging herself to her satisfaction. "Well, crap," the renard grumbles under Zephyr's giggles, "now I'm not gonna be able to move until she does."
"If you want to get up all you have to do is wake her up."
"Well, yeah, but it's not polite to wake a housecat up from a nap."
Zephyr tilts her head to one side. "Why not? You do it to our big kitty back home."
"She's a different story," accompanies a dismissive flick of his fingers. "She'd sleep the day away if she gets the chance. Housecats have to make their humans do chores and the like, which is hard work."
"Only if you ask the cat," counters a giggling Zephyr, and then she sobers. "Haru, hey, listen. There have been a couple of strange people following me around lately but they don't smell like us. Any ideas?"
Obsidian closes his (currently) violet eyes for a moment in thought. "They're probably agents of the toddler," he finally decides. "If they are, they're probably making sure that you're okay and that you don't remember anything. So if they keep following you it means you're doing a good job in pretending that you don't."
"Good," sighs Zephyr. "'Cause if they kept sneaking around I was going to give them a dose of fuda magic. They're getting annoying."
"Well, don't do anything that will give the Game away," her brother cautions with a slight lift of his hand in warning. "Otherwise they'll drag you off to you-know-where and blank your memory real fast or they'll lock you up."
"Gotcha. You better watch your own rabbit-hole, too, while you're getting glances at mine." Zephyr gives him her best 'I'm serious' Look to drive home her point. "No good if you get caught again either."
"I won't. Cross my heart and hope to go straight. Rogue's honor and everything," he assures her. "Now could you please convince your kitty that I'm not that comfy so I can slip off again? My own tails are getting a little too close for comfort."
"Right. Kizi, snack time." Instantly the cat is up and on the sill, letting out a mrowl of complaint when no treat presents itself under her nose and she is picked up, instead. "Take care and stay safe, brother."
"Aye, and you too, sister. I'll see you soon."
"Tomorrow at school?"
"Hai. Tomorrow at school, on the roof. Jya." And the dark youth slips off into the deepening night without a sound. Zephyr stays a few moments longer by the window, gazing at the leaves tugged by the breeze and lit by her bedroom light, before pulling down the sash and turning away to resume the last of her homework. Only the cat, still perched on the sill, notices the shadow that separates itself from the night to stand beneath the lamp across the street, neon reflecting in the back of crimson eyes before the shadow vanishes.
——
"Are you certain, Hiei?"
"Hn. Certain that you're a fool. The girl remembers nothing and you've wasted both my time and that of David and Sonja checking on her. You underestimate the snowflake if you thought she'd leave the girl's memories whole."
A long sigh edged in relief. "Good. I don't want her remembering, it'd be bad for the three worlds' collective health. Keep looking for the Avalon and arrest him if you find him."
"Hn. Fine."
"Oh, and Hiei, another century has been added onto your sentence for the stunt you pulled. I don't care if you were going after your quarry, you still were AWOL for more than two weeks. Next time, if you pursue your target into restricted zones, take a damned communicator and send bloody reports."
"You're getting paranoid in your old age, toddler. Take care to see that you do not frighten yourself to death."
"Don't threaten me, Jaganshi. It doesn't matter how many cards you think you hold, you're not the one controlling the deck."
An image of a young woman with long scarlet hair and wickedly-amused green eyes springs unbidden to the fire apparition's mind (!) and he gives the stressed prince his patented smirk. "No, and neither do you."
——
Catcalls greet the slender young man walking up the dirt road wearing a business suit, his spiky ruby hair caught at the nape of his neck by a simple silver clip, rising from the various construction workers waiting on their machines for the stroke of eight.
Monks stand in a cluster just behind the machines, faces forlorn or angry as they too, await the death knell of their beloved church and the bulldozing of their grounds. The foreman has his steel-grey eyes locked on the approaching stranger, not liking the air of legality the young man wears like an expensive cologne.
"Pardon me," the stranger calls in accentless French, "but which of you good monks is the one who spoke to a white-haired woman and her students a couple weeks ago?"
A young man just a few years older than the stranger separates himself from his brethren, blue eyes curious. "That would be me, sir."
"Very good!" enthuses the stranger with a cheery smile as he hands over a thick manila envelope that had been tucked under his arm. "This will be yours, then."
The foreman frowns, very much not liking the way this is going. He checks his watch: ten minutes to eight. "Who are you and what do you want?" he demands, shouting to be heard over his crew and their machinery. He's given a quick, assessing glance by emerald eyes before a response is called back, still in that cheery tone.
"I'm a representative from the law firm of Kage, Kinzoku, and Tsuki, on behalf of my employer, Ms. Moors. As of yesterday at three o' clock, this monastery and the surrounding property for ten miles belongs to her. And as of," he checks his own, tasteful watch, "seven forty-eight, it belongs to this gentlemonk right here, paid in full for a good century."
The catcalls are abruptly cut off as though someone had detonated a silence spell. All eyes are focused on the figure of the pale monk as he opens the envelope and pulls out several official-looking documents, a bill of sale with a staggering amount of zeros at the bottom, and what appears to be several deeds, including one titled for the 'Church of Redemption'. "Dulcis Erus," breathes the man holding a miracle in his hands.
"He hasn't signed anything."
"Easily solved," chirrups the lawyer. —author starts laughing— And, taking out a ball-point pen from his pocket, swiftly has the dazed monk sign where needed (marked by those neat little post-it flags). "There we go, signed and delivered!" The young man shakes hands with several monks, all of them beginning to look hopeful, since this doesn't appear to be a cruel dream sent by the Tormentor or the like. "Congratulations, Mr.—" a quick glance at the topmost signature lifts one scarlet eyebrow "—Barac, on being the proud new owner of this fine piece of land. I advise you give our firm a call if you need help working out details with the farms included in the purchase."
And after handing the dazed Brother Barac a slick-looking business card, the lawyer bows politely and heads back to town at a surprisingly fast walk. After a few moments, the raven-haired monk looks up at the foreman and gives him a cold stare. "You heard the lawyer, sir, now get you and your men and your contraptions of destruction off of my property this instant!"
"Yes, sir," sighs the foreman, jerking his head to his crew in the signal to clear out. The boss will not be pleased with this, unless this Ms. Moors had paid enough money to make even that greedy, soulless harpy happy. To call Ms. Blackstone a woman would be a gross misstatement and would likely end up with him getting hung up by his heels thanks to his wife.
In the rumble of machines roaring to life and slowly making their way down the worse-for-wear dirt road, one other thought does occur to the resigned construction boss.
He'd better be still getting paid for this.
The monks, on the other hand, are praising God for this unexpected but wholly welcome miracle, Brother Barac still staring at the sheaf of papers in his hands in the fashion usually reserved for the gates of Heaven. While his fellow holy men celebrate with uncharacteristic whoops of joy and unabashed spontaneous embraces, the blue-eyed man shifts through the stack in his hand, and blinks when he comes across a simple envelope.
Stuffing the rest of the papers, deeds and all, back into the manila envelope, Barac carefully slits open the creamy white package cryptically addressed to 'the one who knew the legend' with his tiny belt-knife, pulling out a single page of thick stationary decorated with a stylized white rose at the top.
And while his brothers-in-faith head back into their church to prepare for the Evening Mass (since it is already too late for the Morning and no one would know it would be able to be held anyway), the silent young man reads the elegant calligraphic script.
'To the monk who spoke kindly of a fallen hero;
I'm certain you're quite confused as to why a complete stranger would bother to spend so much money on what should seem to be an insignificant church slated to become a tourist spot. Let me assure you, I have very good reasons. One, because I had the money—and no, I did not ruin myself financially in this satisfying purchase—two, because you yourself had respect for the dead and their stories. And three: because the funeral of Anthony Barbarac, whom I knew as Yuuki Miyami, was the first funeral I ever attended.
It takes a strong effort to keep from dropping the letter, but the shocked monk manages and keeps reading.
No, I am not crazy, nor are you. Nor am I a demon, at least in the conventional religious meaning of the word. Anthony was my opponent in a long ago time, and I still respect him. I'd hardly want his burial grounds to become a place of neon lights, cheap souvenirs, and expensive lodgings. This is an honest gift to you and your brethren, along with the request that you continue watching over the sleepers in your charge for as long as you may. And take care of yourself, as well. I might come back to visit should the mood take me, and it would be pleasant to converse with you again.
Signed, Aislin Moors, aka 'the demon of Barbarac'
PS. And no, silly boy, no one lost their souls for this. It was all money I earned the good ol' fashioned way.(!) Enjoy the next hundred years of zero mortgage worries!
PPS. Do try to keep this letter a secret, all right? It would be most exasperating to be met at the gate with holy water and crosses, especially since neither would work on me. I'm as much a tangible, earthly being as you, good monk. I just happen to be longer lived with a wide array of nifty abilities.'
The raven-haired man stares at the letter in disbelief. What kind of demon uses 'nifty'? It just doesn't seem…proper. Then again, given what he'd seen of that innocent-looking white-haired woman, she wouldn't meet the proper standards of any demon of the religious texts.
"Anthony!" calls his friend from the gate leading to the garden. "Come on! Since it's not going to be uprooted, the garden isn't going to weed itself, you know! Drop those papers off with the Abbot and get a move on!"
Resolving to get the full story from Ms. Moors on her next visit, Brother Anthony Barac, member of the Order of the Sapphire Rose, turns his back on the road and enters his beloved church for what happens to not be the last time.
—
Not far down the road, a familiar red-head sits high in a tree and watches the noisy construction crew head back to town. One hand lazily reaches into the pocket of his Armani suit (bought for the occasion with money from his own vast personal hoard) and pulls out a familiar little item: a communication mirror.
Flipping it open, he punches in a memorized combination and holds it to his ear like a cellphone. After a moment there comes a faint query and he smiles. "It went beautifully," he informs whoever's on the other end. "Nary a hitch. And you won't believe the name of that monk, dearheart." A questioning sound. "Anthony Barac. Sound familiar?"
A moment of silence and then a startled, disbelieving squawk that is audible even with the noise of the machines. Kurama laughs. "I was surprised, too, nearly gave the whole Game away when I saw his signature. I didn't think any of that man's descendents were still alive, let alone still carrying on the name and the tradition of working for Good."
A longer silence on his part while his listens. "Yes, love, I know. Pesky though he was, you liked him very much. I still disagree with you about that letter you wrote, but it is your Game. I'll see you when you finish that mission you won't tell me about, all right?"
A loving affirmative emanates from the com-pact and then nothing. Snapping the device shut, Kurama takes a moment to admire the pretty scene of church and agricultural lands against the flawless blue sky that has remained virtually unchanged by the passage of time, then drops backward off his branch into the waiting portal below.
——
Seven days later, Kurama is not so sanguine. He strides into the Reikai Palace in a haze of suppressed fear and anger, his destination the desk piled head-high with paperwork. The diminutive figure stamping his way through the mountain with apparent disregard spares him a brief look when the changeling slams his hands down on the polished wood.
Rather, the prince's attention is taken up by the stacks the impact has caused to majestically slide off the desk onto the floor. "Koenma, where has my beloved gone?" Kurama cries. "For a week, nothing! Not a sense, not a scent, not a glimpse of her! No messages, no calls, physical or telepathic! Where has she gone?"
Koenma refuses to look at him again, seeming to be absorbed in the task of collecting the scattering papers in a slow, methodical fashion. Tapping what he has into a neat stack, the child-prince finally admits, "We don't know."
Fear blooms into something close to panic and Kurama whirls to pace in front of the desk. Fifteen strides to the left, fifteen strides to the right, repeat. "What do you mean 'you don't know'? How can you misplace someone like her? Her very strength alone should tell you exactly where the hell she is!" The kitsune-turned-human raises his voice with every word until he's close to shouting at the top of his lungs, still moving in his frenzied pace.
Koenma pauses in his collection to actually glare at the male shifting into Yoko while still striding angrily up and down. "That would be a moot point if she's worked herself to a wraith," he snaps at the half-changed male. Kurama stops, surprised out of his transformation at the heat in the child-prince's voice and eyes. "She was sent on a mission that was not, by any means, to leak outside of a circle of two. She and myself. If you will lower your volume and give me your oath to keep your mouth shut I might consider telling you what that mission is."
Obligingly the kitsune ceases his pacing and taking a deep breath, somehow managing to give that oath in a voice close to his normal, polite tones. The child-prince finishes collecting his wayward forms and straightens, abruptly in his teenaged form as he sets the papers down on his desk.
Coffee-brown eyes gaze impassively from beneath darker bangs, before Koenma sighs. "She was sent out to locate and repair all rips and weak spots in the Kekkai barrier, including purposeful tunnels and the like. She was also to work into the barrier the additional block against stronger youkai who use containers to hold portions of their power in order to pass. Her last report was three days ago and ended with the statement that she had earned some vacation time and she would be taking it. We have not heard from her since."
"You left her alone?" Disbelief wars with dismay and growing temper.
"No, you impertinent fox, I didn't. Botan was with her—we haven't heard a peep from that bubblehead either."
"Graah!" The fox resumes his pacing, one hand tugging at the spikes rising along the implied path of his spine along his skull. "She'd be weak, exhausted, easy prey for practically anyone who'd come along," he growls under his breath, trying to adjust his way of thinking to that of his beloved, finding it difficult to encompass the sometimes-impossible leaps of logic her Oracle blood allows her. "The ferry-girl would be of little help, if any." Fifteen steps to the left, fifteen to the right. Koenma watches with a carefully-empty face, leaning against his desk while watching this valuable tactician wrestle his thoughts into submission. "She would need a sanctuary. But where? Where in the three worlds would she go when she's going to be in that kind of shape?"
Suspicion flickers into life in Koenma's eyes. "What kind of shape, Kurama?" he queries softly, hoping that the gentleness of the probe would distract the fox into giving a straight answer for a change. No dice. All he gets is a flash of molten gold behind scarlet bangs. Oh, goody, he'd be getting a real visit from Yoko if things keep up. Sighing, he offers one suggestion: "She won't be in the Makai, the very conditions and repairs that she was making would keep her from it."
"Foxes always leave themselves loopholes," Kurama says, sounding as though he's quoting someone. His footsteps falter. "Loophole…A loophole!"
"Wait, Kurama, what are you—?" The prince subsides, Kurama having already dashed out of his office. "Damn foxes," Koenma mutters as he sinks back into his plush chair. "Never give you a bloody straight answer. One of these days, I swear I'm going to sit that fox or another down and keep them here until someone tells me what the hell is going on!"
——
A scarlet-haired young woman leads another with a blue ponytail along a quiet path up the steps to a small monastery/shrine, emerald eyes seeking. Not finding what she's looking for, she puts a hand out to stop the blue-haired girl, who shifts the limp form on her back into a more comfortable position.
"Yamato-san, I request your presence immediately," calls the red-head in a firm tone, the sound carrying impossibly far through the buildings. "I'm afraid this simply cannot wait."
"Kenobishi-san," greets a man in burnt-orange robes, emerging from the main shrine. "You bring impatience with you, as always."
"Not to mention a problem. Botan-chan, could you let him get a clear look at Aislin-san, please?" Obligingly, the blue-haired girl turns to show the grimy, unconscious woman slung piggyback-style on her back. The wool clothing could once have been considered white, but an odd amber-brown dust coats both wool and woman from head to toe. Even the pointed ears emerging from beneath once-white hair are a uniform shade of amber-brown.
"You bring a demon to us." The age-old prejudice is clear in the monk's voice and the red-head's eyes spark with temper.
"She works for our side, Yamato-san, and she needs one of your wards very badly. The Clearing, I think, would be safest for her." While the monk unwillingly leads the way towards the Half-Moon Temple's goshinboku, their sacred tree hidden in a quiet corner of the temple's grounds, the red-head explains. "She's just been nearly a week working on the barrier that keeps a majority of the problems of the Demon World in Demon World. She's close to tapped out or she'd have managed to make it to her planned sanctuary before she passed out. And she's really going to need your wards very, very soon."
"I'm Botan, one of Koenma-sama's ferry-girls, by the way," the violet-eyed girl blurts, having gotten from her companion that these monks limit their questions as much as possible. "I'm supposed to be Aislin-san's escort but I don't know where she was planning on recovering, so I brought her to Rei-san and she brought us here. I'm terribly sorry to impose on you like this but Aislin-san would be furious with me if I'd brought her back to Spirit World right after she put in for a couple weeks' vacation."
"Botan-chan," Rei says in a calm voice, "chill. The wards that are produced here are enough to keep even me contained to an extent. Which reminds me, Yamato-san, this ward will be for both keeping out and keeping in. I don't want her to hurt herself and I don't want anything to get in to hurt her."
"Very well," the man replies in a cool tone, clearly unhappy at having to harbor a demon but unable to complain since she is not an evil creature, not if she works for Reikai. The group falls silent then except for the ragged sounds of Aislin's breathing, Yamato's face softening slightly at her obvious exhaustion.
When the quartet reaches the tree, a massive sibling to the one that grows in Genkai's forest, Rei gently takes Aislin from an uncertain Botan's back and carries her over to the tree. Even before the red-head reaches the base, branches are reaching downward for the limp form.
Yamato watches with wide eyes as a bushy white tail also covered in that strange amber-brown dust abruptly slides from around the tiny waist, tipping him off that this is no mere demon. "You should have mentioned that she is a kitsune," he tells Rei in a mildly reproachful tone. "The messengers of Inari are welcome here."
"Next time I'll remember," mutters the teenager sourly, eyes sharp as she observes the tree settle Aislin at the first split of the thick trunk, where it forms a perfect resting place for a weary body. "She might wake up in the next several hours but I highly doubt it. I'd make it your strongest two-way ward, Yamato-san. Even tapped out like she is, what's coming will shatter anything less."
"What is coming, Rei-san?" Botan asks as the two girls leave the clearing, stepping aside to let a number of monks carrying incense and talismans past them to seal the area around the tree.
"Let's just say that this place will be experiencing a very early frost. The goshinboku's a hardwood and used to extreme temperatures so it'll survive just fine. If you can't figure out that hint, then I'm not telling you any more. It's her own business, not mine."
"Oh." Nope. Botan's still clueless even as she gets on her oar and leaves to report to Koenma.
Kurama is not. By the time Rei has reached home, jogging all the way, he's waiting for her at her front gate, edgy and impatient at having lost so much time. His cousin (adopted, but it's uncanny how much they look alike) gives him her usual impish grin.
"Took you long enough, cousin. She's still sleeping last time I checked, but if you run you can probably be there when she snaps out of it. Half-Moon Temple, just on the northern edge of town. I'd bring lots of food if I were you. The silly snowflake hardly ate a bite despite Botan's prodding so she's going to be starving. And make sure you eat something, too," she calls after the disappearing form of her cousin. "Typical male," the current Fate sighs, walking into her yard. "How long does he think her heat's going to last, anyway?"
——
Just when Yamato thinks everything will be quiet as usual, one of the neonates comes running up, robe askew and breathless. "Yamato-sama, Yamato-sama!"
"What is it, Fubiki-san?"
A frantic pointing back towards the goshinboku. "There's a demon trying to break into the ward for kitsune-sama!"
Another one? groans the priest internally, levering himself up out of the Lotus and following after the novice. On his way out he snags his holy sword from where it rests above the mantel of the Shrine, the familiar buzz of pure energy comforting against his palm.
Relieved that his superior will be handling the terrifying creature (Dratted newbies, no courage at all, grumbles the non-monkish corner of Yamato's mind) the acolyte once again points in the proper direction and high-tails it back to his duties.
Still grumbling internally at the disruption to his previously-serene day, the orange-clad, shiny-pated man strides down the cobbled path, his sandals clacking against the stones. He hears a yowl of pain as he approaches the clearing, the shield in sight but not the demon. However, when Yamato circles 'round the entrance, he spies a tall silver stranger looking balefully at the charred skin on his hands.
"Damn monks and their warding seals," snarls the youkai, his silver tail lashing in temper against his legs. "Why in Inari's name did Rei bring her here?" Still glaring, he starts licking his new injuries.
"Because," Yamato replies, blocking a thrown seed with the flat of his blade, "Kenobishi-sama chose to. We do not question her reasons or motives, but I am willing to question yours."
Yoko advances on the unperturbed monk with murder in mind. "I will say this nice and slowly, little priest," he tells the human with dangerous calm. "That is my life-mate in there. I have not seen her for a week. And you are in range for several uncomfortable techniques."
"And we are the chosen of Kami, and I do mean that directly, kitsune-sama. Your threats do not frighten me."
A bloodthirsty smile lights the golden eyes. "Scared the hell out of one of your band, priest."
"An apprentice new to the faith," sighs Yamato. He eyes the ward, coruscating mist filling the space behind the pearly shield. "Judging by your actions, I will assume you wish in."
"You assume correctly."
"Prove your relation to either our charge or Kenobishi-sama and I shall allow you to enter."
"Oh, for the love of—Rei is my gods-be-damned cousin! And as I told you, Aislin is my life-mate! How do you prove such an intangible link as that?"
"You, sir kitsune, look nothing like Kenobishi-sama's description of her cousin."
Yoko throws up his singed hands with a Kitsune oath and shrinks. "Is this better, priest?" demands the crimson-haired youth that replaces the silver giant, emerald eyes slit in anger.
'You'll likely meet my cousin Kurama one of these days. He's easy to recognize: just put my colors and face on a male body, but his nose is longer and so are his eyelashes, drat the man. And if something actually makes him come here, his temper will be none too sweet, either.'
"As a matter of fact, you now match Kenobishi-sama's description perfectly, Minamino-san."
"Thanks bunches, cousin," growls the fox under his breath. "Now let me in, priest."
"Very well, hold still." And Yamato swings his sword to point directly at Kurama.
"Eh? What are you—ow!" Kurama recoils, hand clapped to the scratches welling blood on his forehead. "Damned monk, that hurt!" He pulls his hand away, blinking at the sigil now smeared on his palm. "Eh?"
"You have until that heals over to get inside. It's a sigil only we head priests know, so I suggest you enter the warding before I change my mind about letting you in." Before Yamato has half-finished his last sentence, Kurama whirls and leaps through the pearly shield, relief softening his features until it resembles Rei's own normal expression to an uncanny degree. The orange-clad priest just shakes his head and walks away, muttering things about stubborn messengers of deities and their disrupting habits.
Inside, Kurama looks up to find a smudge of pale amber-brown peeking over the edge of a treebranch, and figures by the scent wafting down that it belongs to his sweetheart. The grasses inside the shield are beginning to sparkle with frost; the changeling would bet that it would be forming on the ward-shield as well if it didn't melt on contact. Blasted wards, I hate the things. When you want out they keep you in, and when you want in they keep you out, unless you're willing to part with several layers of your flesh. Damn it all, and I'd just gotten used to not hurting when I moved!
The chilly air pulses, the mists writhing into new fantastic shapes. The crimson male feels himself respond to that silent summons, shifting back into Yoko and leaping into the tree…to find his beloved very much unconscious and in no shape for what he had in mind.
With a frustrated, weary sigh, Yoko picks up Aislin and cradles her on his lap, using his own body heat to cool her off a bit, since to her the air is getting very warm in rapid order. He'd have to wait until she wakes and feed her first, like Rei had told him. And Inari help anyone who tries to put their nose where it doesn't belong.
/Fox, where are you/ Yoko squashes flat the instinctual feelings of jealousy that rise at the male telepathic query, stuffing them for the time being into a cupboard in the back of his mind.
/Half-Moon temple with Aisuhana. I advise you to stay away for the next couple of days./
There is an almost tangible feeling of Hiei adding up the numbers and coming to the correct conclusion, though he doesn't speak it aloud. Instead, /I'll keep the two fools clear as well. And fox, don't push her. I don't feel like patching you up this time./
/Go away./
/I'll take that as your insatiable hormones talking and let that slide. Expect a sparring match when you've both recovered./ And the mental touch is gone, leaving Yoko to run his fingers through his long mane with a pained hiss and pull out several seeds, dropping them to the ground and filling them with his energy.
At the silent command his chosen plants burst into growth, all cold-hardy plants of the Makai that quickly hang heavy with several varieties of fruit, the silver kitsune wishing briefly that he had a plant that could provide some sort of meat since his beloved would likely wake craving protein. Did he still have that lump of venison in the pocket space tucked behind his ear? A probe of his energy tells him that indeed, he does, and thanks to the preservative properties of the private dimensional space it's still quite edible. Heh, and the detective always wonders why my rose stays fresh no matter how long it stays in my hair. Really should teach him how to use pocket-space one of these days. Maybe in a decade? He should have started to outgrow that unbalanced behavior by then.
—————————————————————————————————
Hon'too so desu: So very true
(!) You'd have to have read either Fox's Mischief or Wonderful Journey to get it. Gets explained in the chapter anyway.
Kaze, Kinzoku, and Tsuki: Shadow, Silver and Moon, otherwise known as Hiei, Yoko, and Aislin in one of their group aliases.
Dulcis Erus: Latin for 'sweet lord'. For some reason my online dictionary didn't want to give me 'good god' or the like.
Yes. By stealing it.
Kekkai: Ward (Thank you, xxxHolic!)
Goshinboku: sacred tree