7. A Chance Encounter

--

During the next three days Karasu spent confined to his bed, Bui took charge of the house, caring for both him and Kurama. Kurama continued to practice using his slowly returning ki with the utmost discretion.

Although he was not allowed to enter the courtyard, where he would have greater freedom in exercising his returning powers (were they afraid he was going to leap over the walls?), Kurama had to be content with his circumstances. He suspected that Bui was avoiding him, in order to steer clear of catching him in the act again, and gratitude welled up in Kurama's heart towards him.

He had figured out what the restoration of his powers signified: Takara was dead. Bui had seen him manipulating the chrysanthemums, so he must also know about it. In fact, Kurama suspected Bui and Karasu were better informed about it than he was, though they had not said a word to him.

Now that Kurama thought about it, he remembered that two different messengers had knocked on the gates. But the seals on his ki had not begun to wear off until after the second one. What news had the first messenger borne? Were these two incidents linked? A small voice inside him whispered Hiei, and hope stretched its fledgling wings in his chest.

Karasu, on the other hand, should have been worried. He had realized what Takara's death meant, but not to what extent.

"Another sealer must be found. A week or two and Kurama will regain use of his youki."

Bui was unsure why Karasu's estimate was so far off the mark. Surely he did not underestimate the kitsune after the unexpected outcome of their match? He was not going to correct Karasu, but if asked directly, Bui would find himself unable to lie.

However, Karasu continued with, "I need you to go to the marketplace and ask around."

"And leave you alone with Kurama?"

"It's not as if he's going to break out by himself—or attack me, if that's what you're afraid of. For all his ki is worth now, he could hardly cross-pollinate a dandelion."

Bui knew Karasu's information on Kurama's powers was woefully out of date, but he himself had no idea how far Kurama had progressed. He therefore had cause to worry.

"In fact," Karasu continued, "I want him in here right now. Tell him to come here before you leave."

After all he had gone through to secure the kitsune by his side, and after so many had paid for him with their lives, Karasu rather thought he deserved to spend more quality time with Kurama. He also hoped to banish the lingering unease he still felt over Hiroshi and Takara with the soothing quality of Kurama's delicate beauty.

Bui found Kurama reading in the manor's small library. When he was not working with his newly freed ki, he was reading. What he was reading, Bui didn't want to know. Books could be dangerous. Though, Bui did know Karasu knew Kurama had access to his books.

It was a curious contrast: Bui closed his eyes to many aspects of Kurama, while Karasu was insatiable.

Bui's worry was unfounded. Kurama was researching ki-sealing, but the books contained little that he didn't know from firsthand experience. He looked up as Bui approached.

"I'm going out for a while," Bui told Kurama. "Karasu wants to talk to you while I'm away. I am warning you not to try anything. No matter how much your ki may have progressed these few days, Karasu can still crush you easily despite his injury."

"All right," said Kurama blandly.

Bui scrutinized his face before leaving, cursing the features that had beguiled Karasu, yet unable to hate their owner.

Upstairs, Karasu smiled as he heard Kurama's noisy approach. Even if he'd had enough ki to silence the nightingale floors, Kurama wouldn't have done it. He wanted to conceal his powers until he was fully in a position to challenge Karasu.

"You wanted to see me?" Kurama lingered in the doorframe. Karasu was seated in a chair in front of the dresser, so he was apparently no longer bedridden.

"Come in," Karasu said, still smiling.

Kurama hadn't been sharing a bed with Karasu the past few nights, sleeping instead in a guest room, which he vastly preferred. He assumed it was because they feared he might attack the wounded Karasu in the night. Thus, he hadn't entered Karasu's room at all. He did so now cautiously. He studied Karasu for any sign of injury, but he seemed perfectly sound.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Karasu asked, his eyes flashing with the fond memory. "I told you to take better care of your hair."

"I haven't forgotten." Kurama looked coldly down at Karasu from where he stood.

"Take a seat." Karasu gestured at the stool between himself and the dresser. "I've wanted to do this for a while, but never had a chance to. It's time I took your hair in hand."

When Kurama did not immediately comply, Karasu added shrewdly, "I'm not angling for an opportunity to force myself on you, because if I wanted to, I would do it without preamble. Sit down."

Kurama found it difficult to argue with his logic, and he was undesirous of provoking Karasu at this critical juncture, now that his ki was returning and a door to escape was opening to him. He swallowed his pride and sat on the stool, staring stubbornly at himself in the mirror. He refused to meet Karasu's reflected gaze.

"If Bui does his job correctly, you'll be going to see someone this afternoon," Karasu said pleasantly, placing his hands on either side of Kurama's head and sweeping all his hair behind his shoulders.

"Who?"

"It's a surprise." Karasu leaned over and unlatched a large chest on the dresser, pulling out a hairbrush. He ran it gently but firmly through Kurama's hair, so that the bristles traced pleasurable trails down his scalp.

Kurama shuddered like a horse at the tingling sensation, and fought down the urge to jump up and strangle Karasu. It disgusted him that Karasu's touch felt good, that he was letting Karasu touch him at all.

"And then we'll leave early tomorrow morning." Karasu leaned in and whispered, "Pity I didn't get to enjoy the ofuro with you. Some other time, perhaps?"

He was so close that his hot breath filtered through his mask and tickled the shell of Kurama's ear. Kurama could not contain himself, and jerked forward. Karasu's hands immediately gripped his upper arms, pulling him back into place.

"We're in a hurry right now," he said, now uncorking a vial of jasmine-scented oil. "But after we see Nekura, we'll have all the time in the world."

The gleeful, sing-song quality of Karasu's voice made Kurama sick, but he took deep breaths and bore it.

"This oil will moisturize your hair and keep it glossy," murmured Karasu, running his fingers through the tousled tresses languidly. "I'm going to braid your hair."

Kurama had a sudden vision of himself wearing plaited pigtails, and scowled. Karasu saw it in the mirror and chuckled.

"Trust me. You will look very fetching."

If anything, Kurama's scowl became more pronounced.

"You don't braid your hair. You don't do anything with your own hair."

Karasu tossed his head, smiling. His black hair rippled behind him like running water. "I get along quite well with a . . . natural look. But your beauty, Kurama, needs to be celebrated and . . . shouted in the streets. Your fragile elegance needs to be pampered and petted."

With the end of this discourse, Karasu resumed his work on Kurama's hair.

"Ouch!" Kurama snapped as Karasu's fingers wove in and out deftly.

"Stay still," Karasu murmured, yanking on the strands of hair in his hands to reposition Kurama's head. Kurama's eyes watered up with the pain, which seemed to please Karasu. "I need to pull your hair tightly in order to braid it properly."

Actually, he did not handle Kurama's hair as cruelly as he might have. On the whole, he was surprisingly gentle. Still, Kurama longed to be free from his attentions. This forcible binding of his hair paralleled his own bondage to Karasu too closely, and it the knowledge gnawed at him painfully.

After Karasu had woven a cream-colored ribbon into the first small braid, he began working on the other side of Kurama's head.

"What have you been doing these past few days? I'm sorry you were left to your own devices for so long."

Kurama had been planning his rebellion against Karasu, but he wasn't about to tell that to his face. His plan, which had originally been no more specific than simply getting his hands on a Fruit of Past Life to regain his Youko form, had become easier once his seals had started to crack. Now he could "sniff" them out with his returning ki, or even force a barren tree to bear fruit once his powers were sufficiently restored. All he needed was a little more time for the seals to deteriorate even further.

"I can take care of myself," Kurama spat.

"Of course you can . . . I was merely worried that you would be bored."

"I'm fine!"

Karasu laughed softly. "Did you spend the entire time dreaming up plots of revenge? The way you look at me tells me you're itching to place your hands around my neck. Not," he added, his fingers slipping from Kurama's hair to caress the tender skin of his throat, "that I don't always feel like doing the same to you."

Kurama broke free from his grotesque caress, though Karasu restrained him again.

"I know what it's like to be consumed by thoughts of vengeance," Karasu said quietly, continuing his work on Kurama's hair. He could feel Kurama shaking with outrage beneath him.

"Bui and I still dream of killing the Toguro brothers. But," he said, brightening (or as much as such a verb could be used to describe Karasu), "first things first, hm? I can seek revenge on the Toguros after I make you entirely mine."

--

The marketplace was a site of perpetual motion and transaction, and a feast for the senses. Under striped awnings, tireless hawkers cried their prices and extolled the virtues of their goods. The heady fragrance of ripe melons mingled with the cutting perfumes of Makai spices; cloth vendors laid out heavy gold brocade and pastel silks to dazzle the eye.

"Two ounces of gold for a bolt of linen!"

"Five silver pieces for all the crystallized ginger your bag can hold! Special today!"

"Fresh fish! Fresh fish!"

Bui walked forward resolutely, ignoring the beckoning salesmen and their seductive wares. Services of all types were sold in the back, behind the goods. Once past the last of the butchers' and bakers' stalls, he began to see groups of prostitutes, winking at him coyly; brawny youkai whose signs proclaimed "Bodyguards for hire;" and a large tent painted with the innocuous words "Fortune-telling: Palmistry and Orb Gazing," but which Bui knew to contain an office of the Shikaku.

At last, he stopped at a dingy booth in a corner and addressed the elderly, hunchbacked youkai manning it.

"I need someone who can seal youki into a person's body and render them completely powerless."

"Like that Shikaku girl what was murdered days ago?" asked the old youkai shrewdly.

"Yes, like that."

"My girl that done it packed up and left after she heard. She warn't going to stay much longer after that. Thought he might be targeting all sealers."

Bui made an exasperated sound. Jingling his money pouch subtly for effect, he asked, "Do you know anyone around here who has the ability?"

The other shook his head emphatically. "Kiyoka were the only one in the marketplace. Yeh'd have to go out of town."

"Give me some names, old man," said Bui, his patience beginning to wear thin.

The hunchback eyed his money pouch greedily. "Well, I do know a few . . ."

"Direct me to people who live on the road to Mokuzai. That's in my way."

"Going somewhere, eh? Well, I don't know of anyone on the road, but Nekura, who lives in Mokuzai, could do it for yeh."

Bui frowned. He hadn't been aware that Nekura, who specialized in esoteric poisons, was also a sealer. And Nekura was still far away . . .

"Here," he said brusquely, throwing a few coins on the counter.

As he walked away, preoccupied with their current problem, he became aware of a scuffle that was taking place ahead of him.

"I don't want to have to ask you again," someone said in a soft, ominous voice that carried far in the sudden silence that had fallen.

"I—I can't afford to give handouts, sir! I'm just a poor vendor!"

The left partition of his stall collapsed with a resounding crash as the aggressor overturned the cart with a sweep of his katana. Boiled eggs began rolling all over the ground.

"Poorer now, I'll bet," he sneered. "Though you've still got enough to feed me. But . . ." he turned contemplatively to the other cart, which contained piles of roasted fowl tied by their feet. "Will you?"

The beleaguered vendor had no choice but to acquiesce. "Please, d-don't!" he stammered, wringing his hands pleadingly. "Go ahead and help yourself!"

A crowd was gathering around them, looking upon the proceedings with sadistic interest. Bui's attention, however, was captured by the vendor's would-be "customer." That diminutive height . . . that black cloak . . . that bandaged right arm!

It was Hiei.

Bui turned immediately and hurried out of the marketplace back to Karasu. As he hastened up the stairs in the house, he felt sweat trickling down his neck. But how much more nervous he would have been if he had seen Hiei after he had secured his meal . . .

Hiei turned, eating the vendor's offerings contentedly. As he stalked off, he felt a trace of familiar ki. In fact, it was ki which he could positively identify as Bui's. He smiled grimly and prepared to recommence his hunt.

--

Kurama and Karasu looked up in surprise as Bui burst into the room. If Bui hadn't been so worried, he would have laughed at Kurama's new hairstyle. Two locks of hair on either side of his head had been plaited and then all four braids had been gathered and bound together in the back. He looked ridiculously pretty, like a fairy princess in a storybook. But Bui wasn't in the mood for laughter.

"Get out," Bui said to Kurama.

Karasu ran a hand lazily through Kurama's braided hair one last time before pushing him gently in the small of his back, saying, "Go on. Bui seems agitated."

Bui watched stiffly as Kurama creaked out of the room, making sure the sounds of his noisy footsteps had receded far away before speaking.

"I saw him in the marketplace."

Karasu stiffened. "Who?" he asked in a forced, casual tone.

"You know perfectly well who," Bui hissed, in no mood to play Karasu's games any more.

Karasu's face darkened. "Did he see you?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"We must leave immediately." Karasu narrowed his eyes. "Did you find a sealer?"

"No, but I have been told that Nekura is one."

Karasu raised his eyebrows at this revelation, but did not comment. "Pack the things we will need. I want to leave in an hour."

"So quickly? You are still injured."

"He will move quickly."

"Karasu . . ." Karasu looked at Bui sharply. "We could get rid of him by leaving K—,"

"No. How dare you even suggest it? Kurama is mine." Karasu's naturally pale complexion turned bone-white with anger, and his eyes were little more than slits.

"Hiei only chases us because of him," said Bui, saying Hiei's name out loud for the first time.

"We can get rid of the Jaganshi more . . . permanently."

"If we can," Bui muttered.

Hiei knew a few sword tricks and he could play with fire, but he'd lost to Bui at the Dark Tournament. Karasu was not impressed, and he did not see why Bui should speak so fearfully.

"Go pack. Inform Kurama as well," he said, dismissing him brusquely. "We can orchestrate Hiei's death later."

Bui obeyed silently, though resentment and fear simmered tangibly in his wake. As Karasu watched him go, his anger gave way to a tinge of sadness. Bui had been his faithful companion for years, and Kurama was driving a wedge between them. If push came to shove, Karasu wondered, which would he choose? He frowned. It was a decision he'd rather not have to make.

Bui ran into Kurama as he was carrying two suitcases to bring upstairs.

"What's going on?" Kurama demanded.

"We're leaving," Bui said shortly.

"Now?"

"Yes. If there's anything you'd like to bring, give it to me."

Kurama shook his head. "Why are we leaving on such short notice?"

"Emergency," grunted Bui, heading up the staircase.

As Kurama stood there staring up at him, however, he got his answer. He could faintly detect traces of a familiar ki on Bui's person . . . No wonder Bui was so upset.

A smile broke over his face like the sun emerging from a cloudbank.

"Do you trust me?" Hiei had asked.

Of course, Hiei. Always.

--

A/N: This was another difficult chapter, but at least the next chapter promises to be much less daunting. And I've changed the story rating to M, as mature content shows up in a couple of chapters, and I want to warn readers well in advance.