Wow…I didn't mean to go so long without updating this story. Sorry! But, in my defense, I did work on another one-shot and I've been dealing with a sudden relocation to a new city and state.

Thanks for all the reviews--especially from those who have stuck with this story since the beginning, despite the fact that it seems to be taking me forever to write! I love getting all the reviews in my inbox--because I'm needy and desperate that way, I suppose. :)

Special thanks to ButteredOnions for being my loyal beta reader through my procrastination and then my nagging to "hurry up and finish reading it" when I finally do get part of it completed.

I'll be offline and unemployed for awhile, so hopefully I'll have time to work on the next chapter. This story really only has one or two more chapters to go.

I've got an idea for a post-anime/manga fic rolling around in my head and another YYHxYGO thought, but I haven't seen the end of the anime yet to decide whether either is feasible. So if there's anybody out there who's seen the end of the story and is willing to let me pick their brains a bit, let me know. Thanks!

Enjoy!

"Before I begin, there's something I need to know…"

Here it comes…

"What is his real name?"

"His real name?" Hiei repeated, stalling for time while contemplating his answer. "You named him, you should know -- Minamino Shuichi." True enough, it was Kurama's human name, and he hoped the slight affected edge of contempt in his voice was enough to get her to drop the subject.

Just as he suspected (dreaded, actually), Shiori wasn't buying it. "His demon name," she pressed, sidestepping his evasiveness.

Hiei frowned. "I've already said too much." He crossed his arms defensively. "It's not my place to tell." Resolute bluntness was called for with this woman--or he'd be tricked again.

"Oh…of course…I understand…" she demurred. Hiei cringed, feeling a slight twinge of…guilt? Had he been too harsh? An awkward silence settled between them, but Shiori suddenly brightened. "You know, I heard it once before, I think. Kuwabara--that's the one with the orange hair, right? Or is Kuwabara the dark haired boy? They've only stopped by our house once or twice. Kuwabara--maybe it was Yusuke--stopped by our house to see my Shuichi. Only he called him something else--I almost missed it. Then he got all flustered, corrected himself and asked for 'Shuichi.' He seems nice. They must be good friends. In fact, Kuwabara seems a lot like--"

"Kurama is nothing like that idiot," Hiei snapped, interrupting Shiori's obnoxious prattling.

Shiori's eyes glinted mischievously.

Damn.

"Kurama…" the word rolled off her tongue with a slight dreaminess to it. "Yes, that was it. Kurama…"

"You're good," Hiei grumbled grudgingly, "for a human."

"What is he?" she mused, not hearing (actually--Hiei realized--more likely ignoring) his backhanded compliment.

"You're supposed to be answering my questions," he impatiently huffed.

"You haven't actually asked any," she smiled wryly, her lips curling the same way Kurama's did when he knew he had the upper hand in a situation.

"Fine," he snipped, barely containing the snarl in his voice. He was not in the mood to play games. His sleep last night had been…less than restful. "How did you know?"

"Know what exactly?"

"That you were pregnant with a demon child."

"Ah…it started with the light. Then the pain."

Hiei blinked. "Light? Pain?" The answer was vague--and unexpected. Kurama was sketchy with the details when it came to his human conception. Hiei assumed he just didn't remember it all that well. He would finally have some answers about which even Kurama was uncertain. This pleased him.

"About four months into my pregnancy, I was walking through the park and watching the children play on the playground. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. When I looked up, there was this bright blue flash of light--like ball lightening--headed straight toward me. I must have blacked out briefly because I don't remember getting hit by it. And no one else recalled seeing anything except me passing out. All I remember was the pain. It was awful--like someone was repeatedly stabbing me in the stomach." She clutched her stomach, as if she could feel the pain fresh in her mind after all these years. "I called my husband--sobbing--and he rushed home to get me to the hospital…"

"Pain is not normal?" Hiei had heard that human childbirth was very unpleasant.

"Not usually. Not this early. Oh sure, there's minor aches and pains, swelling, morning sickness…"

"Sounds painful to me."

"It's wonderful, really."

"Sounds disgusting."

Shiori stifled a snicker. She was laughing at him! "If you say so. Anyway, unable to give me anything for the pain and without any evidence of trauma, they decided to run an ultrasound…just to check things out. It was then that the strangest thing happened--"

Hiei imagined she saw Kurama's ears, or tail, or some other demonic anomaly manifest itself on the human host body.

"He turned and looked--no, stared--at the monitor."

"That's it?" How disappointing. He still didn't see her reasoning from random fetal movement to demon spawn. Even Kurama would have trouble making that leap of logic.

"You don't understand. At four months, a fetus is…maybe about ten centimeters…and not very mobile. It was like he was studying us in the same way we were studying him. I could feel it. And those eyes…they were so cold."

That sounded more like the Yoko Kurama he knew. Cold eyes. Not some nondescript, ten centimeter, lump of human flesh that might have happened to face the monitor.

"Then the nightmares started."

"Nightmares?"

"Running…always running. But not fast enough. And there was so much blood--my blood. And pain. I just knew I was going to die. I wasn't ready. It was so vivid, I usually woke up screaming by that point, and I could still feel the lingering pain. It worried my husband to no end."

"Did you tell him?

"I always told him it was just another nightmare. Hormones. Nothing to worry about…just like Shuichi always tells me." She shook her head incredulously as the thought--and the irony of it--dawned upon her.

"Once," she continued, "once I saw myself in a reflection of something I was carrying. I don't remember what it was--maybe a mirror, maybe a jewel, maybe a weapon--but it was shiny--" she broke off, hesitant to continue.

"And?"

"I saw those eyes again--those cold, cold eyes." She involuntarily shuddered. "They were gold, I think. His ears…they were pointed and on top of his head. And he had long hair--beautiful long hair. It was white…maybe silver. It was hard to see it in the reflection." Her voice was tinged with awe, yet more than anything, an undercurrent of fear ran through it. Hiei could appreciate that. He had been…impressed…the first time he had seen--and felt--Kurama manifest his full demonic form. The sight in itself was striking, but the energy crackling off of him was simply beyond belief. "I can see that face as clearly in my mind now as if he were standing right in front of me. I just knew it was him, and I don't think I've ever been so afraid in my life as I was looking at that reflection. Not because I was afraid of dying in my dream again, but because I was afraid of him. Afraid of my own child--what he would be, what he would to do me once I brought him into this world. For weeks, I considered terminating the pregnancy, that image haunted me so…that silver hair…those cold eyes…"

"So I imagine you were relieved when he was born," Hiei snorted, "Ten fingers, ten toes, green eyes, red hair, no ears, no tail and all…"

"Something like that…wait…he has a tail?"

"Nevermind."

"Is that…is that what he really looks like?" She glanced from Hiei to Kurama, trying to reconcile the terrifying mental image with that of the young man sleeping peacefully before her.

"For someone who seemed so convinced that you knew what he was last night, you ask a lot of questions."

"Last night?"

"Last night, when you--" he abruptly cut himself off, but the damage was already done.

Her eyes widened questioningly, then narrowed suspiciously. "You've been spying on us…"

The color rose to Hiei's cheeks. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid! Again! What he wouldn't have given to possess the ability to disappear at will, like some demons he knew. Just disappear--let Kurama sort out the mess afterwards. It was his fault anyway.

"Don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes."

Humans could be so smug when they had the upper hand. Hiei didn't dare look at her. He could imagine the fury--the arrogance--in her stare. Despite the fact that he was a deadly demon who could swiftly end her life with little more than a snap of his fingers, he had sunken to the depth of voyeur in her eyes.

"You're Shuichi's 'dark man.'"

"Hn." He sneered, chancing a glance her way. Instead of smug accusation, he saw her studying him with curiosity and relief. "I thought perhaps Shuichi was imagining things. Or worse, we had a prowler." Didn't she comprehend Hiei was infinitely more dangerous than some pithy prowler? He didn't think his ego could suffer much more abuse from this stupid woman.

Her eyes twinkled mirthfully. "There's a door, you know."

A sudden gasp and a whimper from Kurama kept him from lashing out at Shiori. Barely.

"Sweetie?" She immediately turned her attention on Kurama, all further conversation about "the dark man" abandoned.

"Mom…no…" A solitary tear escaped beneath Kurama's closed eyes, which she quickly blotted away. "Shhh…I'm right here," she purred.

Hiei contemplated using the Jagan eye to peer into the depths of Kurama's psyche while his mother tended to him. But the risks of getting caught by Shiori--or worse, Kurama--outweighed the benefits of another glimpse into his dreaming mind. After a few fitful moments, Kurama settled down again.

When Shiori finally spoke, her voice resonated with immeasurable sadness. "He never cried."

"Excuse me?"

"As a baby, he never cried. Not when he was hungry, not when he needed to be changed, not when he was tired. At first, we thought he was deaf. But the doctors assured us his hearing was fine. I would have given anything to hear that sound…to know what he needed. And now…"

"And now what?"

"He cries. Never in front of me, of course. In his sleep. Occasionally in the shower when the pain is too much. He cries, and I still don't know what he needs." Her eyes searched his imploringly. No small feat--even Yusuke rarely dared to look Hiei directly in the eyes for any length of time. "I saw the wounds--Shuichi doesn't know I saw them, obviously--and I see it in your eyes. What happened to you boys?"

"None of your business," Hiei snapped. "I don't need anything." His defensive walls went up so fast, he was surprised she wasn't knocked backwards by the sheer force of his mental energy. "Tend to your son, but leave me out of it. What makes you think I need anything?"

"Intuition."

"Intuition? Most humans aren't psychic. You're no exception or I would have sensed it by now," he snidely jabbed.

"Mother's intuition," she clarified.

"There's no such thing," he sneered.

"You're not a parent. You don't understand." She sounded slightly stung at his rebuff, yet condescending at the same time.

Hiei scowled. "You're right. Just like I don't understand how you reached the conclusion that you have given birth to a demon child. I've heard nothing that would have convinced me had I been in your place."

"It's the little things that don't add up. The small, everyday occurrences that don't seem…normal. You just know these things. It's that special bond between a parent and child--that intrinsic, invisible thread that connects a mother to her son on the most fundamental level. He never spoke the words, but he 'told' me in so many other ways. You'll understand when you have children of your own." There wasn't a trace of anger, hurt or sanctimony in her voice this time. Just a gentle rebuff that, for all her explanations, she knew she would never make him fully comprehend. Kurama often took that same tone of voice with him when explaining why he chose to stay in the human world.

"Children? Me? Not likely." Hiei scoffed.

"They say that when a child dies, his mother feels it." She clutched her breast. "I felt it. Here. A few days before he came home. It was the most awful, empty feeling in the world. Like my heart stopped and a piece of me died." Silent tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "I was watching TV and I felt it. I knew he was gone. And I thought I heard him whisper 'mom' in my ear." She quickly dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "He called a few hours later to say he'd be home soon. But…he died, didn't he?"

"Kurama did not die." It wasn't a lie, exactly, but not quite the truth either. Truth be told, Hiei didn't really know. Kurama certainly appeared to have died during his fight with Karasu, but nobody was close enough to him in the ring to confirm it. And then he was on his feet. And he never spoke of it since.

"Kurama did not die, but did Shuichi?"

He didn't know what she wanted to hear. Was she seeking reassurance? Or validation of that "special bond" justifying that her knowledge of Kurama was fact and not some by-product of her imagination? "Shuichi is Kurama. So, no. Shuichi--nor Kurama--died."

"Hmmm?" Kurama spoke from the depths of his sleep, having possibly heard his name batted around one too many times and trying to answer whomever was talking to him.

Hiei froze. He was sure his face mirrored the somewhat shocked and panic-stricken expression on Shiori's face. And she was not the only one watching him. Kurama blinked lazily at him from underneath his tousled bangs. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. Seeing, but perhaps not comprehending.

"Hiei…"

Perhaps not.

"Shhh….dun' wake m' mom….k?" he slurred sleepily.

"Sure." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Good," Kurama sighed, closing his eyes once more.

They waited in silence a few tense moments to ensure he had gone back to sleep. "This isn't a good place to talk," Shiori whispered.

"You think?" Hiei quipped.

"Come with me," she beckoned to Hiei to follow as she made her way toward the door. "We can continue this conversation downstairs."

"I'll pass." Hiei settled into the windowsill and crossed his arms.

Shiori held the door open for him, ignoring his remark. "Besides, you look like you could use a good meal."

She did her best to hide her small smile of triumph as Hiei obediently followed her to the door, the promise of a "good meal" too tempting for even him to pass up.

Boys--even demon ones--would be boys, after all.

He hadn't meant to linger. It was just that he had never actually been outside of Kurama's room before, much less downstairs. Standing on the staircase, he had been confronted with the relics of Kurama's human life. Pictures. Rows of pictures lining the wall, depicting his human existence. School photos. Vacation pictures at the beach. Family portraits--mostly of Kurama and his mother. It seemed surreal to him--he always knew Kurama lived a droll, human existence, but he never really knew it. It was a phantom existence on the periphery of Hiei's perception. Nothing more than a quaint story Kurama spun for his amusement. The Kurama Hiei knew was a legendary bandit, ferocious fighter, skilled botanist possessing an unfathomable intellect…not this wide-eyed schoolboy vacantly peering back at him from behind a glass frame. But even in those stilted photos, profound depth and a painful self-awareness shone in those lucid green eyes and the mysterious smile tugging at his lips.

Shiori waited at the bottom of the stairs, patiently obliging Hiei's curiosity as he examined the pictures. He had nearly reached her when a particular portrait caught his eye, stopping him dead in his tracks. Another family portrait. Of three.

"His father?"

Shiori craned her neck to see which photo Hiei was studying. "Yes…that's my late husband. Shuichi's father."

In it, Kurama couldn't have been more than four or five years old, sitting in his mother's lap with a handsome (well, handsome for a human, anyway) man in his mid-thirties standing behind them. So that's where he gets his red hair from, Hiei mused. When he had first met Kurama, he figured the red hair was a by-product of his demonic fox aura. Until he learned that Yoko Kurama was a rare silver fox. The red hair--the fiery brand he so prominently displayed, came from his human father. It was his homage to his human father, not his demonic heritage. And his eyes…so much like Kurama's…such depth…such knowledge…"He knew."

Shiori joined Hiei on the stairs to gaze upon the photo. "He knew." She repeated. "I think he suspected something from the beginning--with the nightmares. But I finally told him after Shuichi was born. I was afraid he'd make me give up the baby. He said he understood. And he knew. He never said how, just that he did."

"And your current husband?"

"Also knows," she answered quietly. "His son, however, does not. He idolizes his older brother, but he is too young to understand."

Hiei sniffed. Apparently Kurama wasn't the only one keeping secrets from family members. They were also so busy keeping secrets from each other that it was a wonder they functioned normally at all. Not that he was in a position to criticize, really. Yukina.

Tracing her finger lovingly along the frame, Shiori swept away a thin layer of dust. "This picture was taken shortly before he died. We always knew what Shuichi was--"

"--a demon."

She nodded. "Yes. But it wasn't until his father died that I truly knew who Shuichi was."

"Who?"

"My son."

Faces. A sea of blank faces passing in front of her. Sympathetic. Sad. Concerned. But not one really distinct from the on that preceded it. She knew these people, yet didn't know them. Relatives…friends…neighbors…so close, yet so far…separated from her by the vast gulf that was her grief.

Another face, another bow, another sympathetic touch. And another voice. Dim echoes…"I'm sorry," "My condolences," "If there's anything I can do," "he was a good man…" Wave upon wave of hollow voices full of hollow sentiments falling upon the deaf ears of a hollow heart.

Until the one voice--the one she was not meant to hear--wafted to her ears and set her brain on fire. "Where's that odd little child of theirs?"

The sea parted. Faces and voices slowly blossomed into reality. "Odd child…" she murmured, barely audible even to herself.

"What, dear?" A wrinkled little hand fell comfortingly on hers as she turned her leaden head towards the crisp, aged voice. Her neighbor. Kneeling next to her. That bright voice…that kindly, old face brought her world back into sharp focus.

The flowers. The memorial. The mourners. All rushed her senses with such overwhelming intensity that she had to blink several times to fight off the dizziness. So many people. So many people in their little home. So many people cared. So many people shared her loss. But she couldn't see the one who shared it with her most intimately.

"Where's Shuichi?"

"Eh? Shuichi?" The wizened little face glanced around the room. "I think he went upstairs. Would you like me to fetch him for you? He should be down here. Such disrespect in children these days," she tutted.

"No…thank you, I'll go." She tottered to her feet, her knees cracking and her numb legs prickling painfully from sitting in the same position for far too long. A firm hand steadied her and she smiled gratefully at the man--someone she did not recognize…one of her husband's co-workers, perhaps?--before gently shaking him off and padding to the stairs.

As she climbed the steps, she felt some of her heavy loss dissolve a bit with the voices melting away downstairs. Each soft footfall in the thick, plushy carpet cushioned the weighty trudging of her tired limbs, providing a spongy, springy rebound that propelled her upward. Every step lightening the burden of her soul as it brought her closer to her comfort--her child. Small as the comfort was. Shuichi was not just young, but so painfully aloof, and it broke her heart that he just couldn't seem to open up to her.

Finally she reached her destination. Three soft raps on the door. The muted click of the twisting door knob releasing the latch. Soft, musically creaking hinges as she cracked open the door and peered inside. "Shuichi?"

Amid the silence that greeted her, she thought she heard a sniffle. "Shuichi?" she called again, stepping lightly into the room and closing the door behind her.

It was empty. She glanced around again, just be sure and walked a few steps further into the room. Her knee buckled slightly as a sharp pain stabbed at her foot. Drawing her stocking-clad foot back up, she noticed the brightly colored plastic strewn across the floor. Another broken toy. It had been a little, hand-held electronic game her husband had given Shuichi a few weeks ago. One of those virtual pet games. The pet "died" last week. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the tiny screws all lined in a row and the little pieces arranged by size and color. Not broken…disassembled. But he couldn't get the pieces back together again.

Another soft sniffle, magnified tenfold by motherly instinct, reached her ears. Immediately, she pinpointed the source--the closet.

"Shuichi?" she cooed, opening the door slowly, so as not to frighten him.

Startled green eyes locked on to hers briefly before disappearing with a soft whoosh under tumbling red locks as he buried his head in his knees. Shuichi sat at the bottom of his closet, knees pulled tightly to his chest, his knuckles white with the effort.

"Come out, sweetie," she coaxed, kneeling down and reaching in to stroke his hair. The soft strands slid easily through her fingers, and she reminded herself that Shuichi needed a haircut. His hair grew so fast.

Her entreaty was met with a shake of his head and more muted sniffles. He trembled slightly. Was he…crying? "Oh…Shuichi…"

A sudden flash of red…the rustle of disturbed clothing…and a force hitting her so hard it almost knocked her over. But she still caught her son as he flung himself into her arms. Her arms encircled his shaking body, pulling him into a tight embrace as he buried his head against her shoulder and sobbed piteously. He was crying. It was the most heartbreaking--yet welcome--sound she had ever heard from him. "Shh…shh…" she rocked him gently, ignoring the discomfort as his tiny hands clutched and clawed at her back and his torrent of tears soaked through her blouse.

"It's ok…it's ok…" she reassured him, hugging him tightly and nuzzling her cheek against his head. "Everything's going to be ok…you'll be alright…"

And for the first time, she actually believed it.

Okey-dokey. There you have it. Please R&R if you'd like. My fragile little ego can't handle flames, though.