4. Paralyzed Force; Gesture without Motion

--

They arrived at the mainland without incident. Kurama had spent the entire time reclined on Bui's bed, thinking up different scenarios and plotting escape strategies for each one. Unfortunately, he hadn't been too productive, as visions of Yusuke, Kuwabara, and Hiei dying painfully swam through his mind on a regular basis.

Bui had come in to give him lunch, as promised. Kurama devoured the poorly cooked rice and limp slices of fish despite his total lack of appetite, aware that he had skipped breakfast and that he needed to be in top form if he wanted to get away.

After all, the severe wounds Karasu had inflicted with his bombs hadn't completely healed, and eating enough was an important part of recovery. Also, Kurama wanted to occupy himself with recovering as well as plotting instead of mourning.

Once the ship stopped, Bui gathered up the three suitcases and motioned for Kurama to follow him. They met Karasu in the hall and the three of them disembarked.

"Here at last," Karasu said, rising on his toes and throwing his chest and arms out as he stretched luxuriously. "You've arranged our transportation to Kosui, Bui?"

"Yes. It will be here shortly."

Standing between them, Kurama looked around furtively, trying to find out where "here" was. The road in front of the docks was wide and paved with gray stones, and led to a tiny village in the distance, surrounded by a huge forest.

Karasu seemed to sense his inquisitiveness. "I travel frequently and keep several houses, but our current business is in the country of Alaric. We will be staying in a house in the village of Kosui. In fact, I believe that is our carriage right now . . ."

Alaric was the kingdom with the ruler who was shrouded in mystery—Mukuro—if Kurama remembered correctly. He too had traveled frequently as a thief while searching for treasure, but he couldn't recall a village named Kosui. Kurama's attention, however, was soon diverted from his geographical musings.

A handsome black carriage with gilt trappings that had been tearing up the road at a terrific pace (much to the dismay of many pedestrians) clattered to a halt in front of them. It was driven by a lithe, black-suited youkai and drawn by two reptilian black horses with shining amber eyes. Kurama noted that they weren't even breathing hard, despite the lightning-like gallop at which they had traveled.

His head spinning, Kurama wondered about Karasu's "frequent traveling" and "several houses," and the emblem on the carriage—three elegant shuriken wrought in shapes resembling Celtic knots.

Before he could open his mouth to ask about any of this, though, he felt a sharp, sudden pain localized at his hip.

"What the—,"

"Sorry," Karasu said lightly, as he withdrew the syringe. "You couldn't have escaped from the ship, but I won't take any chances now. Especially as this carriage cannot take us all the way and walking will eventually be required. But don't worry. Bui will carry you safely for that stretch."

The ground lurched violently beneath Kurama's feet as his vision began to fade. He threw out his arms in the delusional hope of finding a support to grab onto, but the last thing he felt was Bui's solid arms catching him and depositing him in the carriage.

"Are we going to Takara first?"

"Yes. I had considered seeing her later, but I believe that after this incident," Karasu waved at Kurama's unconscious body, which was stretched out across the bench opposite the one he and Bui were sitting on, "it will be . . . more prudent to visit her as soon as we arrive."

Bui nodded as the horses sped up, the pounding of their hooves like thunder. He looked away from Kurama's prone body, out of the window, where the trees blurred into one broad green stripe that looked as if it had been painted by a hand wielding a giant paintbrush. The green bled and filled up the window, forcing Bui to look away, as the color resembled the shade of the kitsune's eyes too much, and Karasu was the only one who wanted to drown in them.

--

Kurama's eyes snapped open and immediately closed again as the darkened ground rushed towards his face and just as quickly, rushed away.

Carefully, he opened them again and realized that he was slung over Bui's shoulder, and they were climbing up the stairs to the front of a house. The ground continued to dip and rise as Bui walked, and Kurama shifted uneasily in his awkward position.

"Are we at your house?" he demanded, raising his head around to try and glare at Karasu. Instantly, Bui's burly arm tightened around his waist.

Karasu extended his hand to brush Kurama's bangs out of his eyes; Kurama fumed at the indignity of his position.

"I see you're awake. It would have been better if you had remained unconscious a little longer." Karasu dropped his hand as Kurama's lip curled savagely. "This is not my house. We are at the home of an . . . acquaintance."

Not Nekura! Kurama thought in horror, but Karasu continued.

"Her name is Takara." A woman? "I am sure your conduct is exemplary amongst women, but I feel the need to remind you to be a gentleman in her presence."

"No guarantees, if she's your friend," Kurama strained to say against Bui's back; his neck had tired, forcing him to drop his head again.

Karasu gave him a thin smile and struck the heavy brass knocker on the door several times. It was fashioned skillfully in the shape of an eagle holding a ring in its claws. Kurama couldn't see it, but he could tell that Takara was wealthy from the width and sheen of the polished stone steps that comprised his field of vision at the moment.

The door flew open almost instantaneously. A flurry of jewel-bright silks and clouds of perfume burst out, squealing, "Karasu-saaaan!"

Bui hastily took a step back, but the overwhelming scents of musk and sandalwood still assaulted Kurama's nose and throat, and he dissolved into husky coughs.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lanky girl with a head of blonde curls hugging Karasu enthusiastically. If the situation hadn't been so bizarre and potentially dangerous for himself, Kurama would have laughed at the annoyed expression on Karasu's face. Now he knew what it felt like to be the object of someone else's misplaced, oppressive affections.

"It's a pleasure to see you again as well, Takara-san," Karasu said in an unruffled tone as he extricated himself from her gangly arms, which were swamped in golden chains and varicolored gems.

"You're as cold as ever," she pouted, pivoting on her heel to face Bui. "Hello, Bui-san!"

"Good evening, Takara-san."

"Oh!" Spidery fingers parted Kurama's hair, which had fallen in front of his face. He tried not to cough onto the girl as her perfume attacked his keen sense of smell once more. "Is this the boy you were talking about?"

Curious green eyes roughly the size and shape of 500-yen coins stared up into Kurama's face.

"Yes. That's Kurama." When it appeared that no greeting was forthcoming, Karasu added, "He's delighted to make your acquaintance."

As Kurama opened his mouth to protest, Takara smiled and turned back towards Karasu.

"Oh, where are my manners? Come in! We can do introductions properly inside." She led the way, her coral and cream kimono swishing as she went.

While they walked, she chastened Karasu. "You haven't been to see me in months! I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me!"

"If Takara-san did not hear, I was indentured into the Toguro brothers' service a while ago," Karasu replied in a low voice. "I only recently—"

"Oh, psh! Toguro brothers!" she cut him off, waving a hand carelessly. "Don't give me any more of your excuses, Karasu!" With the last sentence, she threw her hand dramatically at the base of her neck, and looked away as if in pain.

Kurama repressed a snort with difficulty. Were Takara's crush on Karasu any more obvious, it would have to be painted on her forehead in indelible ink. She seemed like a nice enough (though rather puerile) young woman; her interest in a pseudo-rapist like Karasu was inexplicable to Kurama.

The sumptuous insides of the house confirmed Kurama's suspicions that the lady was wealthy. Even though his range of vision was still mostly limited to the ground, he noticed that under the thick and intricately woven rugs lay a handsome parquet floor in rich hues of mahogany. He saw several enormous porcelain vases standing around in intervals, and he even saw the insignia of the three shuriken worked on one. Had Takara sent that grand carriage?

"Madam," said Karasu quietly as they approached a set of double doors that led into the sitting room, "I—"

But no one heard what he was about to say, for the doors were suddenly thrown open, accompanied not by perfumes or silks this time, but a sneering voice.

"It's good to see you again, Karasu, Bui," the speaker nodded coldly at both of them. "The rumors were that Toguro had tired of you and . . . terminated your service."

"Gossiping with drunks rarely yields verity, Takeo," Karasu replied silkily. "As you see, Bui and I have . . . returned in triumph."

Kurama could not see Takeo's eyebrows shoot up, but he did hear his swift intake of breath.

"You—you won the Dark Tournament?"

"Yes," said Karasu, immense smugness contained in that single word. "Here is my prize."

"A boy?" There was a pause as Takeo scrutinized Kurama. "A human boy?"

"Not just a human boy," Karasu smirked.

"Otousan!" Takara whined. Kurama knew she wouldn't have stayed quiet for long. "Why don't you stop harassing Karasu-san and let them go in and sit?"

"All right," Takeo said grudgingly, moving to let them pass. He pulled a string to ring a bell outside the room, then entered after them. Karasu took a seat on an overstuffed velvet armchair, Bui put Kurama on a sofa upholstered in embroidered silk and sat next to him, and Takeo and his daughter occupied a matching sofa.

A servant who had apparently been summoned by the bell appeared, with tea and cookies. Takeo gruffly waved for them to help themselves, but only Karasu and Takara complied.

Kurama rolled his head around on his shoulders, trying to assuage the pains in his stiff neck. This room, like the rest of the house, was extravagantly furnished, and he also took in their hosts' appearances completely for the first time.

If Takara had been a human, he would have put her age at around twenty, but her unnatural thinness and elongated limbs dispensed all question of humanity. Also, her fingernails were green, and it didn't look like nail polish.

Her father also looked as if he had been underfed and put through a torture rack, but his fingers were a bit closer to normal length. He was dressed well, like his daughter, though unadorned except for a gold ring in his nose. His eyes were slit-like instead of round, and he gazed sharply at their visitors.

"So tell me why you have brought this not-human boy to my house—or rather, to my daughter, seeing that I was not informed of your visit beforehand."

"I didn't expect you to be home," Karasu said smoothly. "I assumed you would not be overjoyed to hear I was back, and judging from our reception, I was right. I wanted to save you the unpleasantness I was sure my appearance would afford you, but I need Takara's help with Kurama. And she did want to see me."

Takara stuck her tongue out at her father, who ignored her and demanded, "What kind of help? Takara's powers are limited to—"

He stopped as he looked at Kurama, taking in the situation. Karasu smirked as the light of understanding dawned in his eyes. Kurama, however, still didn't understand, but another feeling was dawning on him as well: fear. What were Takara's powers limited to?

"Who is he, anyway?"

"Surely you've heard of Youko Kurama, the infamous thief?"

"The one who was killed by a hunter."

"Not quite."

Takeo blinked in disbelief, gawping at Kurama. "This is Youko Kurama?"

"He is understandably altered by his time in Ningenkai . . .but yes, the very same."

Takeo burst out laughing. "I was going to charge you for Takara's services," he said over Takara's shrill protests of I'd never take money from Karasu-san!

"But now I'm only too glad to help you. More than fifty years ago, this bastard broke into my house when I was out, terrorized my servants and daughter, and stole several invaluable artifacts! Being at your mercy is worse than any retribution I could possibly devise." Takeo smiled toothily.

Kurama swallowed. Takeo was probably telling the truth. He had stolen from so many people more than fifty years ago that he didn't remember individual jobs anymore. Takeo was so rich, though, that his household had likely been a tempting prospect. Even Takara's eyes had hardened.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Takeo-san," Karasu said pleasantly.

"Of course." Takeo's eyes flickered to Bui. "And Bui, what did you request as your prize?"

To everyone's surprise, Bui replied curtly, "That is between the tournament officials and myself."

Takeo's agreeable demeanor clouded. Sensing that his host's goodwill was fading, Karasu stepped in.

"Bui received some little trinket. A necklace, I believe."

Takeo eyed Bui's thick neck skeptically. Kurama shared his disbelief.

"For sentimental reasons," Karasu added hastily.

Because of Bui's helmet and mouth guard, it was impossible to see his reaction to Karasu's divulging his secret, but Kurama guessed that he was greatly displeased. He wondered about Bui's bizarre, seemingly meaningless choice, but his attention was soon diverted to more pressing matters.

Karasu went on. "We won't take up much more of your time. Takara has agreed to seal in Kurama's ki for me, and in the time that it takes her to do that, I'd appreciate it if you updated me on the current state of the Shikaku."

Kurama didn't hear much besides "seal in Kurama's ki," and he actually sprang up in terror. Bui seized him instantly, though, and forced him down.

Kurama struggled fiercely, but the injuries Karasu had inflicted on him during their match were still in the process of healing, and they prevented him from using his full force. He even tried using his depleted youki to summon a demon plant, but to no avail.

Bui ripped his tunic off, and Takara approached him grimly. Her fingers were fully extended and glowing with ki.

It was painless, as it had been when Gama had done the same thing in the Dark Tournament. But Gama had done it with blood, which could be washed off, and Takara was doing it purely with youki, tracing complicated patterns on his arms, legs, and chest. Kurama yelled in frustration and actually tried to bite her, but she drew away in time and slapped him.

"Oh, Kurama," Karasu said, breaking his conversation with her father for a moment, "please don't think you'll be able to cut yourself open and plant seeds in your own flesh to use your youki. Takara's ability far outstrips Gama's; you won't be able to make anything grow, inside or out of you."

"That's right!" Takara agreed cheerfully, tracing on Kurama's face as Bui shoved his head down.

"There!" she said smugly, twenty minutes later. The tracings flared silver for a moment, then faded away, leaving Kurama's skin unmarked to the naked eye. "Finished."

"Domo arigatou gozaimasu, Takara-san," Karasu murmured, bowing deeply in her direction. "I don't see how I'll ever be able to repay you."

It was too strange to see Karasu interacting, well, normally with others in a social situation. Despite his sinister stalker tendencies, he clearly knew how to conduct himself acceptably and uphold his end of conversations. But Kurama couldn't ponder the bizarreness of what was happening in front of him very much.

His face burned as he sat up and struggled to cover himself again with his torn tunic. Much to his embarrassment, now that Bui was no longer pinning him down, he began to help him. He tried to push Bui away, but the other silently and inexorably assisted Kurama in pulling his ripped clothes back on.

Takara blushed and fluttered a hand at Karasu in dismissal. "No need, Karasu-san, really."

"Oh, but I insist," he said quietly, fixing his eyes on her in a manner that she obviously could not resist.

"All right, then," she giggled, tapping at her cheek with one bizarrely long finger. "A kiss, here."

Karasu barely blinked, although he did look a little exasperated. He approached Takara, and she leaned out, presenting her cheek to him. Kurama could not help watching in fascinated disgust as Karasu undid his mask and planted an airy kiss on the swell of her cheekbone.

Swiftly, Kurama glanced at Takeo to see his reaction. He merely looked a little irritated. Clearly, Takara's crush on Karasu was old news that he had long ago resigned himself to witnessing again and again. It seemed to Kurama that Takara had no idea what Karasu wanted with him; he doubted she would have been so happy to seal his ki in if she'd known Karasu's true purpose.

Karasu promptly replaced his mask and addressed Takeo. "Thank you too, Takeo-san, for your hospitality." Only a very intent listener would have caught the slight sneer on the word "hospitality." "I hope to see you and your charming daughter again soon."

Takara simpered.

"Bui, I don't think there's any need to carry Kurama out. He can walk by himself now."

They got to their feet, Kurama screaming curses at Karasu in his mind, and just bursting to open his mouth and let them all out.

Being sealed like that didn't exactly hurt, but there was a peculiar constricted sensation associated with it. Sometimes it felt like circulation to a part of his body was being cut off, but when he really concentrated, Kurama realized that it was a trick of the mind. Still, the feeling was tangible and unpleasant.

"Shall I escort you out?" Takara asked sweetly.

"I wouldn't want to trouble you," said Karasu.

"Oh no, it wouldn't be any trouble at—," Takara began, but her father interrupted her impatiently. He'd had enough of her idiocy to last for a while now.

"They know the way out, Takara. Leave them be." She pouted, but no one paid heed.

Kurama was glad to get out of there on his own two feet, even with his disastrous new disability. They mounted the carriage again, but once they were settled in, Kurama's relief gave way to furious indignation.

He fixed Karasu with a hateful stare. Alarmingly, Karasu saw a flash of gold in his eyes. The truth was that with the series of traumatic events he had been forced to endure, Kurama was falling back increasingly upon his callous Youko side in order to cope. After all, Karasu had feared Youko. Youko had been able to smell it, and Karasu hadn't dared to taunt him.

"Now you're free to force yourself on me without having to worry that I'm going to rip your testicles off with demonic vines or anything like that," he spat. "Well done."

"I've already told you that I won't take you until you're quite ready for it," Karasu said placidly as the carriage began to roll again.

"What do you mean by ready? On your bed with spread legs and begging for it?"

"That's not what I meant, but it would make a nice surprise."

"Why are you even waiting?" Kurama scoffed. "I don't see you having any problems with rape."

"My reasons are my own," Karasu said peremptorily. "And as much as I enjoy you when you are feeling . . . spirited, you should calm down, Kurama."

Again, Kurama felt a strange uneasiness that Karasu was behaving with such self-restraint. This uncharacteristic discipline in his manner did not bode well. At the very least, Kurama thought anxiously, it would intensify the fury of the storm when it finally broke.

"We are now going to my house," Karasu continued. "Takeo lives very close to me."

"Why are you and Bui traveling together?"

"You're full of questions, aren't you?" Karasu raised an eyebrow.

Bui answered unexpectedly. "Our association goes back longer than our mutual servitude under Toguro."

"How?" persisted Kurama, getting interested in spite of himself.

Karasu chuckled. "I'll indulge you, as you've just undergone a rather unnerving ordeal."

Kurama glared.

"I will be able to tell you the whole story in the time it takes us to arrive. However, you'll understand if some details are . . . obscure."

Kurama nodded impatiently, his intense gaze flickering between the pair of them.

"To begin with," Karasu said, "before I was bound into Toguro's service, I was a member of the Shikaku. You haven't heard of them?" he asked, observing Kurama's blank look.

"No."

"Well, we are not a very large group. Elite organizations rarely are. Still, someone such as Youko Kurama ought to have known the Shikaku on account of its very elitism." Karasu smirked at that needling remark.

"Get on with it."

"The Shikaku are a group of highly trained assassins. They sell their services to affluent youkai with reasons to want their enemies out of the way, be they economical, political or personal. Takeo is also a member of the Shikaku"

"So that's what the symbol of the three shuriken is for," Kurama blurted out.

"Very good," said Karasu, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. His face was partially obscured by his fine hair.

Kurama blinked warily. It probably wasn't a good idea to let Karasu know when he observed important details, or figured things out.

"So you're basically a prostitute!" Kurama said, mustering enough contempt to drip copiously from every word. "You rent out your body."

"You hired people like me in your past life," Karasu pointed out smugly.

Kurama swallowed. How could he know about Yomi? Karasu seemed eerily well-informed about Kurama's past. But, he reminded himself hastily, he had sicced hit men on other rivals . . . youkai who had dared to flaunt his authority.

"I thought you'd be a pimp," Kurama retorted, trying to mask his disquiet. "Or a professional rapist."

"Such harsh judgment of my skills! I realize I did lose to you, but please don't have such a low opinion of me. Some day, I'd like to fight you again."

Kurama met Karasu's mirthful eyes and swore, I'll make that happen.

Aloud, he said instead, "Bui is also a member of the Shikaku?"

"By proxy, I suppose," Karasu said slowly. It sounded as if he hadn't really thought about it before. "They do not officially recognize him, but it is understood that he is my helper."

"Why aren't you officially recognized?" Kurama asked Bui.

"Because I didn't apply for membership," said Bui, a rare touch of humor in his answer.

"This doesn't tell me how you met," Kurama pointed out.

Karasu shrugged delicately, turning to look out the window. "I think that had best be left as another story for another day." Bui sat in wordless assent.

Realizing a lost cause when he saw one, Kurama changed tack. "What is behind Takara's strange attraction to you?"

"Strange?" Karasu laughed. "Maybe to you, but surely it is apparent now that I'm not that undesirable as a lover. You would do well to change your mind, Kurama."

"She must be blind," Kurama muttered with ill grace.

"Blind? I was going to say the reason behind her excessive attachment to me was simply my stunning good looks." Karasu pushed his hair out of his face to smile broadly at Kurama. The carriage slowed to a halt. "But we're here."

Bui got up and jumped out. Karasu followed, and held out his hand to help Kurama descend, which Kurama ignored. Completely unperturbed, Karasu bowed to him and gestured at the house in front of them.

"Welcome to my home."

--

A/N: Funara, did you catch our in-joke? It was so surreal that you happened to randomly mention what I had written about. XD

I'm tremendously pleased to see that some of you clever, clever reviewers are wondering about Bui's role in this story, Karasu's newfound self-restraint, and the possibility of Yusuke and Kuwabara's resurrection. All of these are interesting questions that will eventually be dealt with in later chapters (satisfactorily or not, depends on the reader's judgment), but only two of the above are really integral to the story.

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Hiei!

Otousan—father
Domo arigatou gozaimasu—the formal version of "thank you"