Okay, you guys, I have been a very bad author. I actually had most of this chapter written nearly two months ago, but then I just sat on it, then the holidays came, then my beta reader had computer problems and exams, etc. etc…
Speaking of, thanks to ButteredOnions for being my beta reader.
For those of you who have stuck with me, thanks much. For the rest of you…well, you're not reading this so it doesn't matter. :)
Feedback and reviews are always appreciated, but if you want questions answered or a personal response, please send me an email.
Now…I've taken up enough of your time and I have a plane to catch tomorrow (and still much packing to do), so on with the story…
Hiei froze. Of all the compromising positions in which he had found himself in his lifetime, this had to be one of the most precarious. Not because of any actual danger to himself-though a lack of danger failed to prevent his heart from skipping a few beats-but because of the potential consequences. Most humans-he had thought Kurama's human mother was no exception-lived in blissful ignorance of the demons that occasionally wandered into their realm, trying to upset the balance, destroy/devour them or otherwise wreak havoc on their fragile little lives. This particular encounter was awkward, to say the least, potentially dangerous to Shiori's frail human psyche, at most.
Glass exploded against the wall near Hiei's head, showering him with a spray of hot water and hundreds of tiny ceramic shards. On second thought, perhaps it was more dangerous for him at this point.
"Get away from him," Shiori screamed, her face contorted with fear and fury. She snatched the empty glass on Kurama's nightstand-having already thrown the mug of tea she had carried in with her-and pitched it at the small fire demon with unexpected accuracy and speed.
Hiei deftly leapt back to avoid the glass as it shattered at his feet. Instinctively he reached for his katana, but thought twice, re-sheathing the deadly weapon. Only a few months ago, he would have drawn the sword and swiftly lobbed off her head without a second thought. Kurama wouldn't like that. And an angry Kurama was something with which Hiei did not want to reckon. Maybe his time among humans had its advantages, after all.
The glimmer of the weapon did not escape Shiori's eyes. Her face drained of all color and she took a hesitant half-step backwards, obviously torn between her instinct to flee for her own life and her instinct to protect the life of her child.
Kurama decided for her. "S'ok…" he murmured, vainly struggling to get out of bed before the situation escalated. "'s Hiei…." He managed to get one leg over the side of the bed, but then swooned, threatening to fall face-down on the floor.
Shiori let out a yelp and dashed forward to reach her son, but Hiei knew she'd never make it in time. He flew forward, catching Kurama mid-fall-and only centimeters away from landing on his head in the splintered glass Shiori had shattered moments earlier. Hiei winced inwardly. If Shiori entertained any small hope that Hiei might actually be human, his little display of lightening speed just dispelled it.
Kurama leaned his head against Hiei's shoulder. He tensed under the weight. Not because Kurama was heavy…it was just so…awkward…undignified…for both of them. Neither was the "touchy-feely" type-and certainly not with each other. Hiei could feel Kurama's frustration seething just below the surface while at the same time groping for a dignified solution to his dilemma. "So tired…" Kurama whimpered bitterly.
"Yes…I noticed…" Hiei dryly responded, blowing away wisps of red fluff that were tickling his face.
Kurama's weak grip encircled Hiei's upper arms. His arms trembled with effort as he attempted to push himself off of Hiei. Resisting the effort to assist him, Hiei remained motionless-he sensed Kurama wanted to-no needed to-do this on his own. Surprisingly, he mustered enough strength to do so, but then Hiei noticed that Kurama had unsolicited help. Shiori had stepped forward and clutched her son's shoulders, gently drawing him back to where she kneeled on his bed. Kurama was asleep again by the time his head hit her shoulder. She protectively wrapped her arms around him-cradling him-as she kept a wary, nervous eye on Hiei, particularly his crimson eyes. He met her gaze for a moment, then broke away, looking for something interesting on the floor at which he could stare instead. Nothing but broken glass. He'd have to feign interest in something. Anything to escape that probing, motherly gaze.
"Thank you," Shiori finally mumbled, glancing away.
"Hn…" was the only response Hiei could muster, thrusting his hands into the folds of his robes. When he looked up, Shiori was staring at him again. Her eyes quickly cut away.
Hiei wondered if this might be the opportune time to exit, before Shiori could find her voice and scream. Or worse, start pestering him with questions. He couldn't exit the way he came. That would raise even more questions. Then again…he couldn't exactly exit out the front door, either. The few times he had visited Kurama, he had never actually gone beyond Kurama's bedroom. He wouldn't know how to find his way out of the house. So he stood in place, rooted by indecision.
"Hiei…you're Hiei…" Shiori's soft, solemn voice shattered the stillness. Too late. Stuck now…
Hiei blinked back mild surprise. She'd heard of him. "Yes." He answered simply-deliberately-hoping that was the end of the conversation.
It wasn't. "Shuichi told me about you," she stated tentatively, as if she weren't sure she was talking to the proper person.
"Did he?" Hiei tried not to sound too patronizing or elusive, but he had to tread carefully. Somehow, he doubted that "Shuichi" turned to his mother one day and said "So, Mom…I have this friend Hiei. By the way, he's a fire-demon who would just as soon kill you as look at you, but I think you'll really like him." He needed to know what Kurama told his mother. As much as he hated to admit it, he could use Kurama's…help.
"Yes…" Shiori plowed forward with the conversation, oblivious to Hiei's evasiveness. Or perhaps she was so wrapped up in her own nervousness that she felt compelled to prattle on, lest the stony glare of his fiery red eyes scorch her soul. "I saved all of his letters-"
"Letters?"
"Yes. While you were all on your trip together, Shuichi wrote home every couple of days…"
Letters. "Do you mean to tell me that when we were shipped to that desolate, forsaken hell-hole and forced to compete to the death in a tournament-fighting for our very lives-'Shuichi' was writing letters to his mommy!" At least, that's what he wanted to say. What actually came out was: "I see." Hiei cringed as the specter of Dr. Tsunoda's boring conversational habits temporarily possessed him.
Some of Shiori's uneasiness lessened and her eyes sparkled as she recollected the letters. ("They were nothing fancy-just little notes jotted on plain paper…") almost as if they were priceless treasures rather than the quickly scribbled letters Hiei assumed them to be. Humans were so easily distracted by sentimentality.
Grudgingly, Hiei had to admit that if he were Kurama, he probably would have written home, too.
"…he always wrote how much he missed me…"
If anything, to reassure her that he was ok.
"…and how much he loved me…"
Even if it was a lie.
"…which is why I knew something was wrong."
His focus snapped back to Shiori's conversation. "Oh?"
Shiori's eyes brimmed with tears and she pulled Kurama into a tighter embrace. "It was like he was dying and trying to find a way to say goodbye. I mean, really…what fifteen year-old actually tells his mother that he loves her?"
"One that nearly lost his mother not that long ago."
A small smile tugged on the corners of Shiori's mouth, causing Hiei to inwardly congratulate himself on his answer. It was the kind of answer Kurama himself would have given. She was staring at him again. "You're not what I expected, Hiei."
"Really?" He did his best, but couldn't contain his sarcasm this time.
She didn't seem to notice. "I expected someone…"
"Human?"
"Taller."
Oops.
Shiori paled slightly, but forced an affable smile. "Well…yes…that too." She absentmindedly ran her fingers through Kurama's hair. "And the others?"
"Others?" Hiei cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Yusuke, Kuwabara…are they like you?"
"Don't insult me," Hiei snapped, snorting derisively. Seeing her suddenly taken aback, he softened his tone slightly. "They're human," he grudgingly offered.
Her hand stopped stroking her son's hair and hovered over his head. "But Shuichi isn't, is he?"
Hiei held his tongue. There was no good answer to this question. He would not lie to this woman-his honor forbid it. And it was not his place to reveal Kurama's secret, destroying the carefully woven web of deceit he had constructed in order to protect his life and the lives of those he loved the most. Yet, Hiei knew his silence as an answer in itself, and he mentally reproached himself for not being more quick-witted and clever like Kurama.
"It's ok-you don't have to answer," Shiori retracted.
"They why bother me with the question?" Hiei peevishly retorted.
Shiori just shrugged ruefully in response, finally laying Kurama back down. "I suppose I just wanted to hear it. To know for sure."
"Do you?" he challenged.
Shiori did not answer.
"Then ask him," Hiei hedged toward the window, plotting his longed-for escape.
"I can't."
Perching on the windowsill, Hiei delayed his retreat a bit longer-a decision, he acknowledged, he'd probably regret later. But, once again, curiosity won him over. Humans were so foolish-creating complex dramas out of relatively simple dilemmas. Ask him. It was an easy enough solution to the problem-to everyone's problems. "Why not?"
A distant, contemplative look washed over her features, and a sad, fragile smile flitted briefly across her lips. It was a look he had seen on Kurama's face many times. He looks so much like her. He was surprised that he'd never really noticed it before.
"Perhaps you're right-I don't really want to know," she sighed. "And it's not my place to pry."
"I thought it was human nature to pry," Hiei cracked. "At least, it is of the humans I know."
His dry wit failed to shake her solemnity-another annoying habit characteristic of Kurama. Whenever he was mulling over something, virtually nothing short of the apocalypse would break his concentration until he had reached a conclusion satisfactory to whatever strange hierarchical thought process inhabited his hybrid mind.
"I don't pretend to know why he won't tell me," Shiori continued, "I've asked myself hundreds of times. Is it fear? Shame? Guilt?" She nearly choked out the last word as if it were the most difficult option for her to fathom.
Even Hiei had qualms about the last possibility. "Guilt?" Guilt hardly fazed a youko-much less one as old, experienced-not to mention temperamental-as Yoko Kurama.
"The child…the child he replaced…" Shiori swallowed hard and held back tears, dreading the answer to the question she was about to ask, "did…did he…?"
"He did not kill the child," Hiei answered quickly, finally understanding her concerns. "From what I understand-what he has told others-he merged with the human fetus before it acquired a proper soul."
"I see." The relief in her voice was evident. "Maybe he's just uncomfortable."
"With you?" Hiei raised an eyebrow. "Unlikely."
"With me…with himself, mostly. With what he is…what he was…what he has become…what will become of him. I don't know. To a certain extent, I guess its something we all go through as we grow up and try to find ourselves. Only, more so with Shuichi. And you probably know my Shuichi well enough to know that he has to over-analyze something from every angle before he's ready to tackle it." Her voice dropped slightly. "Besides, if he's that uncomfortable with himself, who am I to confront him and force an issue he's not ready to face?"
"How long have you known?"
"Since I was pregnant with him."
Hiei blinked in surprise. "How?"
"A mother always knows." She smiled mysteriously.
"I wouldn't know." A slight sneer curled his lip despite his best attempt to control the bitterness creeping into his voice.
"Oh," Shiori uttered, "I'm sorry to hear that."
Pity. How he despised pity. And from a human, no less. Kurama's mother or not, he was going to tell this inferior creature what she could do-
"Did she die while you were young?"
Concern. Genuine concern. Simple…non-patronizing…if just a bit naïve. "Hn. Something like that." Not a lie, exactly, but not quite the truth either. This woman was likeable enough. Hiei didn't want to burden her-shatter her obtuse human innocence-with his sordid past. Besides, it was not something he cared to discuss with anyone. Yet he still felt the lure…the attraction…of telling Kurama's mother. Like he could tell her everything without being judged. And if she said "I understand" (even if she didn't), somehow, that would make it slightly better. Was this how she tamed him? Conquered the infamous temper of Yoko Kurama? Simply by being…nice? "Explain."
"Huh?"
"Explain how 'a mother always knows.'"
Shiori bit the corner of her lip, smiling slightly. "It's hard to explain…well, not hard, just…it'd take a while to explain. And you seem to be in a hurry to leave." She nodded slyly at the window to which Hiei had been creeping since the start of their conversation.
Hiei smirked. She was toying with him now. She had intentionally piqued his curiosity so he would stay, and as she explained her story, she, no doubt, would be prying the information she wanted from him. It was a dirty trick. Worthy of Kurama's intellect. Befitting his "mother." He would have to be on his guard with this woman.
"I have time," Hiei replied, accepting the unspoken challenge and feigning nonchalance. He settled comfortably into the windowsill.
"Tell me."