6. The Floodgates Open

--

While Karasu made his way home slowly, Kurama was bombarding Bui with questions as he ate.

"I still don't really understand why you have accompanied Karasu all these years."

"I would be faithless to abandon him now."

Seeing Kurama's nonplussed expression, he added wryly, "It's probably easier to tolerate his presence when he doesn't harbor unwanted sexual longings towards you."

Was that a joke? Kurama blinked, but plunged on.

"Why do you feel you must be faithful to him?"

"Is this an interrogation?" Bui asked lightly.

"No," said Kurama, trying to match Bui's levity. "Just an attempt at conversation."

"Hmm," Bui said; Kurama was relieved to hear the smile in his voice. He knew how bizarre their conversation would appear to outsiders; he himself could hardly believe they were speaking normally to each other. The partner-in-crime and the abducted victim chatting over breakfast.

"Karasu's personality is multi-faceted, like most everyone's. His interest in you places you in such a position that you can only see the worst sides of him."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"What can you see from your position, and what places you there?"

"I see everything you cannot," said Bui, deftly evading the question. "And—"

He was interrupted by a staccato burst of knocks at the front door. He got up immediately to open it. Kurama could not see them, but he could hear low, urgent conversation. Bui did not talk to the visitor for long, however, and even though his features were unreadable as always when he reappeared, Kurama sensed that something worrisome had happened.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"'Nothing' usually means bad news."

"It is news that concerns no one but Karasu," Bui said sharply, all his former courtesy gone.

"I notice that didn't stop you from hearing it."

Bui growled and pounded the table once in vexation. He turned and left, leaving Kurama to stare mutely at webs of cracks in the varnish of the splintered wooden tabletop, and wonder what had transpired to make Bui so upset, so quickly.

As Bui left the dining room, he heard several knocks at the door again. Fearing more bad news, he hurried over reluctantly. He was alarmed to find Karasu bleeding on the front step.

"You're injured!"

"It's annoying and rather painful, but it won't leave permanent damage. A moment's stupidity." Karasu's knees sagged.

Bui picked him up gently, cradling him in his arms, as opposed to flinging him over his shoulder as he had with Kurama. As Bui carried Karasu upstairs to his bedroom, Karasu asked if there had been any trouble while he had been away. He was referring to Kurama.

"Bad news," Bui said tersely. "Hiroshi-sama is dead."

Hiroshi-sama. Dead.

The words echoed in Karasu's head, bouncing off the walls of his skull with the impact of runaway freight trains. He blinked, once. Bui could see he was shaken, though he refocused his stunned gaze with admirable celerity and managed one composed word.

"How?"

"He was murdered by someone who was good with a sword." Bui paused. "Very good."

He spared Karasu the details of how Hiroshi had been found in his bed, with obvious signs of torture upon his body. An enormous bruise on his forehead suggested that he had first been knocked unconscious. He had then been spread-eagled and bound to the bedposts with his own ripped sheets. His appendages were not found in restraints, however; the strips tied to the charred bedposts ended in empty loops stained with blood.

That was because the assailant had neatly sliced off Hiroshi's arms and legs in even segments, starting from the fingertips and toes and ending at the hips and shoulders, as if he had been chopping vegetables. Hiroshi's servants had found the round cross-sections of Hiroshi's arms and legs scattered around the blankets and on the floor, and the throat on his singed, limbless body had been viciously slashed open.

"He had a number of enemies," Karasu said slowly. "It was probably the Kyoushu. This is regrettable, but the Shikaku will find a new leader, and—"

His deceptively calm rationalizing was cut short, which was really for the best. If he had been allowed to continue pretending that the death of the closest thing he'd had as a father figure was merely a "regrettable" setback, he would have faltered, and perhaps even fallen apart. Karasu's breakdowns, which were rare but memorable occurrences, consisted of massive, uncontrollable explosions that generally neither he nor Bui found to be a pleasant experience.

As it was, Bui interrupted him in a low voice. "He had appointed Takeo as his successor in his will, and I do not think it was the Kyoushu."

"What do you mean?" Karasu's breathing was audibly labored, a sign that he was struggling to maintain self-control.

"Few youkai have such skill with the katana. And fewer still leave traces of fire behind them. We know someone who fulfills both criteria."

Karasu's face twisted in disgust. "What you're implying is ridiculous. Now put me on the bed; I need to rest."

Bui set him down wordlessly and undressed his injured leg. Karasu hissed with pain.

"Does Kurama know about this?"

"No."

"Good. Keep it that way. Where is he right now?"

"I left him in the dining room. You need a doctor," said Bui, probing at a ragged tear on Karasu's shin.

"A doctor," Karasu repeated scornfully. "Very well. Summon one. Don't let Kurama know the specifics. Just say I received a minor injury."

He watched Bui leave before squeezing his eyes shut painfully. Hiroshi had deserved better. And if Hiroshi's demise was indeed his fault, even Karasu would have trouble using his obsession with Kurama to justify the death.

As Bui walked downstairs to send a messenger, he encountered Kurama.

"Karasu's back?"

"Yes. He received a slight injury. I'm calling a doctor, as he needs to be in full health when we leave tomorrow."

"We're moving so quickly?" Kurama seemed more interested in the fact that they were leaving after only one night, rather than in the news of Karasu's wound.

"It is necessary. Don't disturb Karasu right now." And with those words, Bui strode down the hall.

Kurama wandered into the parlor and flopped down on an armchair, his brow furrowing. Foremost on his mind, as was always the case now, was the daring, but promising scheme of escape Youko had dreamt up. His hand often went up unconsciously to clutch at the bag of tear gems beneath his clothes.

Try as he might, he could not stopper the hole his three friends had left in his heart. His plotting did little to keep his grief for Yusuke and Kuwabara at bay; and even less to prevent worry for Hiei from overwhelming him regularly.

But Youko stepped in to help him during those times of despair.

--

Hiei, on the other hand, felt that he was doing just fine. Last night, when he had mercilessly turned Hiroshi into dim sum, his purpose had been to extract Karasu's hiding place. Hiroshi had taken the pain stoically in the beginning, but he eventually began to scream, and amongst those screams was a location.

"The Golden Pavilion!" he gasped. "It's—it's about thirty minutes from here!"

That had been all Hiei needed to hear. He said grimly, "Thanks," and slit Hiroshi's throat in one swift motion.

Unhappily, Hiroshi must have meant thirty minutes by walking, because Hiei had scoured the entire area within thirty minutes of a carriage, and had found nothing. It had taken a long time, too, as he carefully examined practically every square inch for cleverly hidden buildings, or edifices concealed by illusions maintained by youki.

It was late morning when he began moving outside the circle of thirty minutes' carriage ride, and almost noon when he found the Golden Pavilion at last.

Standing outside and gazing at the eagle-shaped door knockers, he suddenly felt a whiff of familiar ki . . . the stranger he'd encountered yesterday!

Well, whoever he was, he stubbornly remained out of sight, and Hiei knew that rescuing Kurama was a much higher priority than finding out who was following him . . . although that was certainly very important too. He grunted. He'd save it for after he killed Karasu and Bui.

He didn't detect any of their ki around this house, but the house's wards were so intricate that he didn't find it surprising. He hadn't been able to sense any ki within five hundred feet of Hiroshi's manor, either.

He slipped in past the wards skillfully, and evaded the notice of the bodyguards, like he'd done at Hiroshi's, and entered the house.

Hiroshi had not sent Hiei after Takeo and Takara maliciously. It was simply that as Takeo was the new head of the Shikaku, Hiroshi had thought it would be fitting for him to kill the one who had murdered his predecessor. Hiroshi really did have tremendous faith in his hit men. He could not have foreseen that Hiei would dispatch Takeo and Takara even more brutally, in his anger at having been directed to the wrong house.

"Where is he?" he asked in a low voice. "I don't want to keep asking. You're running out of body parts."

He had already hacked off quite a few in rage when he'd found out about Kurama's sealing.

Takeo gurgled indistinctly. Hiei turned towards him. Afraid that Takeo would give Karasu away, Takara blurted out, under the pretense that she was frightened for her father's life, "I'll tell you where he is!"

"It's a little late for you to finally start cooperating," Hiei sneered, "but go on."

"You'll find him at a manor called Rippa Kyassuru. You'll know it by its gilt double doors. It's fifty miles from here . . ."

"Are you sure?" Hiei demanded. "I've already been led astray once."

Takara nodded frantically, blood streaming down her cheeks from her ruined eyes. "Please don't kill us!"

"Yes . . . I should leave you here alive so I can come back and talk with you further if you're lying," Hiei said contemptuously. Takara let out a low cry of despair. "But I'm afraid I can't leave any witnesses."

Karasu's name was on Takara's lips as her breath ebbed away. Takeo did not do much more than gurgle in the last seconds of his life.

When Hiei went outside, he saw someone dart into the trees. Damn this forest! Hiei darted after him, determined this time to catch him.

The other was quick, but not as fast as Hiei, and Hiei stretched out a hand to grab him by the collar, pulling out his katana with his other hand.

"Who are you and why have you been following me?" Hiei demanded, turning him around.

"Following you?" panted the other. "It seems like you've been following me!"

He was a pale youkai with a haughty nose. His green eyes were disturbingly bright, but other than that, he looked quite human. He wore white and gold clothing cut loosely to allow for ease of movement, with an opening in the back for a tail that swayed almost hypnotically.

"Explain yourself," Hiei growled. "I'm in a bad mood right now, so don't test me."

"My name is Matsuoka," he said, pulling himself proudly out of Hiei's grasp. "I am the current heir of the Sawashima clan, and I'm tracking a member of the Shikaku named Karasu who killed my brother Kiriyama. The Shikaku killed my elder brother Kazuo recently. Kiriyama raised hell about it, and Karasu was sent to silence him."

A dangerous gleam flashed through his eyes like light hitting the edge of a falling coin. He licked his lips, either in apprehension or anticipation; perhaps both.

"I am now," he said deliberately, "quite interested in returning the favor. It would seem that you are pursuing the same end."

"What's the Shikaku?" Hiei asked brusquely, not lowering his katana.

Matsuoka's lip curled. "You don't know? Funny . . . because you killed its leader last night."

"Don't give me any bullshit," Hiei snarled, "or I'll kill you too."

"I'd like to see you try," scoffed Matsuoka. However, the fact that Hiei had now cruelly murdered three people in his search led him to answer. "The Shikaku are an organization of highly trained assassins. Now, who are you and why are you stalking Karasu?"

"My name is Hiei. Like you, I want revenge," Hiei said curtly.

Matsuoka regarded him appraisingly. "Since we have the same goal . . . we might pool our abilities and capture Karasu together."

"I prefer to work alone," said Hiei, who also didn't like Matsuoka's attitude.

"Very well," said Matsuoka coldly, reverting to his arrogant demeanor.

"I won't interfere with you, and I don't want to see you around any more. I want to deal with Karasu personally." Hiei was baring his teeth at the mere thought, though he didn't even realize it..

"I understand. We'll just have to see, then, who catches up to him first. Good luck, Hiei," sneered Matsuoka, using his old trick of disappearing into the nearby flora.

Hiei snorted and hastened on his way without looking back, though he did have the feeling he would see Matsuoka again.

Anxiety bordering on anguish lent speed to Hiei's steps as his imagination writhed out of control like one of Kurama's monstrous vines. He hated to consider it, but he believed that Karasu had probably lost no time in ravishing Kurama and generally debasing or mutilating him in every way his sick mind could dream up. Only the idea of tearing Karasu up in revenge kept Hiei from frothing at the mouth.

Hiei wasn't lucid enough to realize that he was worrying over Kurama to an excessive degree usually found only in mothers and lovers. In fact, his fears were thus far unfounded as Karasu had hardly laid a hand on Kurama. But Hiei's longstanding regard of Kurama had subtly morphed into something deeper than respect, or even friendship—without him noticing.

Since a great part of his new feelings toward Kurama sprang from serious respect of his paradoxically human, yet often breathtakingly merciless character, it might be curious that Hiei had been so worried about someone he knew to be a ruthless son-of-a-bitch at bottom. Kurama himself would have expected Hiei to assume that he was capable of taking care of himself. And now that he knew about the sealing, it was only natural that his already high-strung emotions would go into overdrive.

He had also already seen Karasu's gleeful, near-successful attempt to kill Kurama with agonizing precision and leisurely pace; and his ire had further been roused by the crow youkai's smug requisition for Kurama as his prize. Really, Hiei was mad not only with worry, but also jealousy.

Rippa Kyassuru was another well-hidden, highly protected mansion. As before, nothing stopped Hiei from getting inside. Once inside, however, he found no sign of Kurama, Karasu, or Bui.

"Who are you?" demanded a hulking, bovine guard as Hiei rounded a corner.

"I'm here to see your master," Hiei said smoothly.

"What business do you have with the boss?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Isn't it?" Attracted by the commotion, other guards began circling around, grinning. "What do you say, boys?"

Hiei killed all of them in less than fifteen seconds.

"Looks like I'll have to find him myself." Hiei walked into the bowels of the house, wiping his katana as he went.

Much to his rage, the youkai he found—Akuma—had nothing to do with Karasu. Well, unless you counted the fact that he was head of the Kyoushu, rival organization of the Shikaku. Obviously, then, he had no idea where to find Karasu.

"I can help you, though!" he babbled, clutching at the hem of Hiei's cloak. "I can give you spies that will stay on lookout, day and night, and inquire after his whereabouts! I can give you an entire army! Please don't hurt me!"

"If your spies are as good as your bodyguards, no thanks," sneered Hiei, decapitating Akuma as blinding fury swept over him. Three dead ends and no leads!

"You damn well should be doing better than I am, Kurama," Hiei muttered, stalking out of Rippa Kyassuru. He had sustained minor injuries before subduing Akuma, though any pain he might have felt was dulled considerably by his frustration and fierce determination.

--

Kurama was now in fact doing rather well, though Karasu was not.

That afternoon, the doctor finally left after binding up his leg and setting the bones in his foot.

"The doctor has said that I must stay in bed for three more days before attempting to walk. And he doesn't want me to travel until I can walk 'reasonably well.'" Karasu scowled.

"Then rest," Bui said swiftly. "I'm afraid I have more bad news."

"I thought I heard a messenger at the door," Karasu said darkly. "What is it?"

"Takeo and Takara are dead."

Karasu's lips parted under his mask, forming a shocked "O"; he was glad Bui could not see. As annoying as her passionate loyalty to him had been, it had also been occasionally endearing. And he had seen the parallel between her unrequited affection for him and his feelings towards Kurama.

If he'd known what she'd suffered for his sake, and that she had lied to save him, he would have been even more disturbed.

At any rate, this blow, right after the news of Hiroshi's death, was almost enough to make Karasu reconsider the high price of Kurama's unwilling companionship. But, he reflected with melancholic irony, the key word there was almost. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge any such foolish feeling as regret.

As for Takara's father . . . while Karasu hadn't felt any great love for Takeo, Takeo had been Hiroshi-sama's designated successor. The Shikaku would fall into confusion as the assassins in the higher echelons grappled for the empty head position.

Karasu himself had no intention of wrangling for the top spot (though he would have been more than qualified), and he doubted that anyone had been informed of his return outside of Hiroshi and Takeo. He would just have to lie low during the power struggle and finish his business—getting Kurama to Nekura—in the meantime. Still, this chain of deaths was hard to ignore. Bui was looking at him pointedly, as if to say that his suspicions had been confirmed. But that was ludicrous . . . there was no way . . .

"They were found much like Hiroshi-sama. Mutilated by a skilled swordsman."

"The Kyoushu must be feeling feisty."

"No. Akuma and the majority of his household have also been murdered. The handiwork was the same."

". . . The attacker did all of this in broad daylight?" Karasu felt as though he had swallowed a column of ice.

"He behaves as if he has nothing to lose." A pause. "We must be careful."

"No! This is absurd. We have no reason to believe he is after us. We don't know who he is."

"You know it must be him," Bui said fiercely, no longer able to contain his frustration at Karasu's stubbornness.

"You're over-analyzing, Bui. Don't be so paranoid. He's dead." Karasu waved him away exasperatedly.

"All the same, we must leave as soon as we can!"

"Go—go see what Kurama's doing. Get out of here." Karasu held his breath involuntarily; it was not often that they argued. He couldn't remember the last time Bui had raised his voice against him.

But Bui exited obediently, if sullenly. As he went, he murmured, "Your precious liability." Karasu pretended not to hear.

It surprised many people how softly Bui could tread, even in full armor. His feet sank noiselessly into the plush carpet of the parlor, where Kurama was sitting on an armchair. Because Kurama's gaze was fixed intently on a vase of flowers in the corner, Bui was able to steal up on him.

He soon saw the reason for Kurama's rapture: the flowers inside were blooming and closing languidly, like pink and yellow fireworks on stems. The realization blossomed on Bui like the chrysanthemums in the vase—the seals on Kurama's ki were wearing off now that Takara was dead. Today, chrysanthemums; tomorrow, Makai no Ojigisou. Karasu had better find another sealer, and soon.

Kurama noticed the shadow Bui threw over the vase and spun around.

Serves me right for being so reckless.

Nevertheless, he stared at Bui defiantly. He was not yet able to use his ki to attack, so all he could do was wait for Bui to make the first move. His plan for escape had been set in motion when he'd discovered his ki was beginning to return; if Bui reported back to Karasu, he'd have to change it drastically.

Bui turned to leave towards the front door.

Kurama's eyebrows contracted in bewilderment. "You're going to tell him, aren't you?" he demanded.

"He'll find out for himself if you continue in this careless fashion. Don't let me catch you doing it again."

"Why?" Kurama knew Bui knew what he meant.

Bui paused before replying. "Karasu has become careless as well. A rude awakening would not be out of order."

Kurama gazed after him, still baffled. The flowers in the vase continued to open and close, like exploding stars in the sunlight.

--

A/N: This chapter was a bitch, and I'm getting slightly nervous now that the updates are progressing steadily while the ending of this story is not. I've been stuck on chapter 10 for several weeks now. Wish me luck. --;;

Makai no Ojigisou—the huge plant sensitive to heat and touch that Youko used against Karasu during their match.