Chapter 04: Girls Just Want Some Goddamn Coffee

X

That night, Kurama, Yusuke and Kuwabara watched Yamato's apartment in shifts. One slept while one stood vigil, while the third member of the party ventured home to pack a bag. Yamato, exhausted, merely slept through the night (and no one blamed her, although Yusuke did grumble about envying how soundly she snored). Kurama was the last to go home, where he put together a suitcase and showered in preparation for the journey to Genkai's that lay ahead. He replayed the events of the evening as he took a cab to the train station, watching through the windshield as early, rosy fingers of dawn begin to slowly pierce the night's dark sky.

Yamato's friend, Takeshi, had apparently brought many of his demon associates—all recent immigrants from the Makai—to see Yamato ever since her predictions for him had come true with startling accuracy. His friends had all reported similar experiences: eerily precise assessments of their problems, oddly specific evaluation of their mindsets, followed by the provision of perfect solutions that defied logic and odds astronomical in their ability to remedy their woes. Kurama couldn't help but run through the variables in his head, calculating those odds down to the decimal point.

"Takeshi-san," he had asked as they stood in Yamato's living room shortly after Takeshi's arrival (and all the excitement it had entailed). "Were all of your friends seeking counsel on the same subject matter?"

Takeshi's nose scrunched. "Well. No. Not really."

"A lot of them wanted job advice," Yamato piped up. "That, or they just wanted advice on general interpersonal stuff. Most of them were out-of-towners who wanted to—" She blanched. "Oh my god, they're not out-of-towners, they're out-of-worlders, aren't they?"

"Well…" Takeshi wheedled.

Yamato covered her face with her hands. "Oh my god."

"And what advice were you looking for, Takeshi?" Kurama asked.

"Romance," Takeshi replied, and a gap appeared between Yamato's fingers.

"He had a crush on the girl at the supermarket," she said, voice muffled by her palms. Still, Kurama caught the glint of pride in both her words and her one visible black eye. "They're dating now."

"Because of the guidance you gave me," said Takeshi, beaming.

Yamato shrugged, uncovering her face at last. "I just gave you standard advice anyone should hear in that situation. Be yourself, be honest, and be open-minded. That was less fortune telling than it was giving you solid advice."

"Yeah," Takeshi said, cheeks flushing, "but…"

Takeshi gestured gingerly at his horns. When Yamato just stared at him, he cupped a hand around his mouth and bent to whisper in Yamato's ear. That ear turned pink under the edge of her stocking cap in a moment's time.

"So…" Yamato swallowed. "You took my advice very literally, then."

Takeshi mumbled, "She thinks the horns are sexy."

And with that, Kurama understood. "You revealed you're a demon to the object of your affections?"

"And she was into it, apparently," said Kuwabara (who had been standing nearby during this exchange).

"I guess there's a kink for everything," said Yusuke (who had also been standing nearby), and he and Kuwabara began to chortle.

But Yamato was having none of it. She rounded on them both with a glare and snapped, "It's called teratophilia and there's nothing wrong with it; you guys are just kinkshamers." She turned to Takeshi again, glare vanishing in the wake of her smile. "Don't worry, buddy, I get it. I bet she was into Gargoyles as a kid. I bet she liked the Beast best before he turned back into a prince, didn't she?"

"How did you know?" Takeshi asked, awed. "Did you use your powers?"

"No. I just know her type." She waved as if scaring off a buzzing fly. "But enough about that. You mean to tell me that all the people—that all of the demons you brought to me had success following my predictions? All of them?"

"Every last one. That's why so many clients starting knocking on your door," he said. "Word of mouth marketing is the most effective, after all."

Yamato didn't reply. In fact, she looked down at the floor and ambled a handful of paces toward the kitchen. Her shoulders sloped when she put her back to the room, painted fingernails tracing lightly over her nape.

"Well," she eventually said to the floor. "Thanks for the business, I guess. But…" She pivoted on her heel and scowled, hands planting themselves on her hips. "I dunno; it's just hard to believe."

"What is?" Takeshi said.

"That my predictions were coming true." She waved at the ceiling, indicating nothing and everything at once. "Some of them were really general—most of them, actually. I usually count on a lack of specificity to do my dirty-work for me, but… I dunno." Yamato's expression appeared as lost as a traveler in a stark desert. "I never got word of me being super accurate before now. It was all just generalized predictions and telling people what they needed to hear, not actual fortune telling." Her brow furrowed. "But now that I'm thinking of it, business only really got good after you started referring people to me a few years ago."

(Around the same time demons really start immigrating to Human World in earnest, Kurama noted. Could she only predict the futures of demons? He was not certain, and he would keep this theory to himself. At least for the time being.)

Yusuke stepped forward, catching Yamato's eye as he said, "For what it's worth, Keiko said you were dead on the money with her."

"Wait, I was?"

"Yeah." He put his hands in his pockets, fidgeting a bit. "You said something about how I go places she can't follow?"

"Yeah, so?" said Yamato.

"So I spend a lot of time in Demon World." He rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly the best place for a romantic getaway."

Yamato blanched, but then she scoffed. "Wow. I'd be impressed with myself if I wasn't so damn freaked out by the fact you visit Demon World for kicks." Yamato apparently had not been told Yusuke was, in fact, a demon himself, and no one tried to correct her as she buried her face in her hands with a low moan. "I'm not doing any of this on purpose!"

"But the fact remains that you are doing it," Kurama said, as gently as he could. "The results speak for themselves."

She hadn't looked at all comforted by that. Kurama had trouble keeping her expression out of his mind as he pored over the details during the night, long after Yamato went to bed and he was left alone in the dark to sleep and keep watch. He was still thinking about said details when his cab pulled up the train station, and he thought about them even as he headed indoors to the terminal and found Yusuke and Kuwabara waiting for him, yawning. The inside of the station was rather austere, with a slew of bolted-down waiting chairs and a large window on the back wall where one could purchase tickets; beside it sat a small coffee kiosk, but the grate was currently pulled down. Employees moved furtively behind it, getting ready for the day to come.

Yusuke and Kuwabara greeted Kurama with a series of mumbles and yawns. Yusuke had his feet propped up on a suitcase of Yamato's, but when Kurama looked around for her, he didn't see her anywhere. In fact, Yusuke and Kuwabara were alone in the terminal apart from the kiosk workers and ticket agent.

"She's on the train platform," Yusuke said when he saw Kurama's questioning look. "Said she needed space."

On either side of the ticket booth and coffee kiosk lay banks of tall windows running the length of the terminal; Kurama leaned to one side until he could see through them, and soon Yamato's form came into view, her figure silhouetted before the train tracks running parallel to the station. She had her back to them and wore a baseball cap in pale blue. Strands of long, dark hair trailed from the bottom of the cap, falling over her shoulders in a black wave. A wig, obviously. Kurama wondered if the color reflected her mood.

"I see," Kurama said. "I won't disturb her, then."

"Smart choice. She's grumpy," Kuwabara muttered. "Said something about needing coffee or she'd unhinge her jaw and swallow someone alive."

Kurama winced. "Evocative imagery."

"I'm just hoping she's not being literal." Yusuke crossed and uncrossed his legs, hitting the top of Yamato's suitcase none too gently. "I've had too many surprises for one night, thanks."

"Yeah." Kuwabara shudder. "And I've never been a fan of snakes."

"I can't say I feel differently," Kurama said just as the grate covering the coffee kiosk ascended with a rattle. He set his duffle bag at Kuwabara's feet. "Would you watch my luggage?"

"Not like we're going anywhere," Yusuke said, and he tucked his chin to his chest and closed his eyes.

Kurama was the kiosk's first customer of the day, given he visited it not ten seconds after it opened. He ordered four cups, black, but with room for cream and sugar in case anyone wanted it (and so as not to embarrass Yusuke, who would no doubt dump at least six sugar packets into his brew when no one was looking). Kuwabara all but chugged his cup, but Kurama did not wait to see if his hunch regarding Yusuke's sugar cravings proved correct. Instead he headed for the terminal doors, following the sidewalk around the building toward the platform beside the tracks.

Yamato didn't hear him approach. She stared out over the tracks without seeing, ballcap shielding her eyes from the glare of the rising sun, lips pursed below a layer of burgundy lipstick. Kurama tried not to speak her name too loudly as he came up beside her, but it was no use: The second the first syllable of her surname passed his lips, Yamato flinched and spun, nearly falling over the suitcase (one of the trio she'd brought with her) in the bargain. When she caught sight of Kurama's face and recognized it, she flinched again, staggering back a step like she'd been struck.

"You scared me," Yamato said in a voice of utter accusation, hand clamping over her heart. "Don't sneak up on a girl like that!"

"Apologies." Kurama held out a cup. "Yusuke said something about a dire need for coffee."

And just like that, all was forgiven. Yamato snatched cup from him with a sigh, although she still found time to glare and mutter, "There better not be cream in this." A sip proved there wasn't, and the glare faded. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Coffee delivered, he gave her a nod and walked away. "I'll see you on the train."

"Wait."

Kurama stopped. Yamato regarded him with defiance, although what, exactly, she was defying he could not say. But her face appeared pale beneath her makeup, made paler still for the strands of false, dark hair trailing down her chest. She swallowed, throat working as if trying to down a large pill.

"The vines." Yamato wriggled her free hand at him. "What were those?"

"A little trick," Kurama said, "and nothing more."

"Bullshit, Red." She continued speaking without pause before he could address her little nickname for him; it was not the first time she'd used it, nor was it the first time he'd noticed its use. Yamato rolled her eyes and said, "You can… what, control plants? How is that even possible?"

Ah. He'd been wondering when someone would be forced to broach this subject on Yamato's behalf. There were so many things Kurama took for granted about the world he occupied. It was not often he had to initiate someone into the ranks of the spiritually aware, and he wondered just how much he could say on this subject without scaring her.

He had a hunch he knew how much he could say, of course. He had pondered how best to introduce one to the concept of the supernatural to a mundane human before, although Yamato had not been the subject of said hypothetical revelation. But now was not the time to contemplate how a certain other woman in Kurama's life would react to such matters, now was it?

"It's possible thanks to my ability to manipulate spiritual energy," he said after a moment's pause.

Yamato pulled a face. "Your ability to who-what-now?"

"Manipulate spiritual energy. All living things possess spiritual energy. By manipulating it using different techniques, one can achieve a range of desired effects." He lifted a hand, fingers rubbing together to illustrate. "For instance, I channel my energy into plants, giving me the ability to manipulate them as I see fit. Yusuke and Kuwabara can use their energy to manifest spiritual weapons."

"Weapons," she repeated uneasy. "Weapons like… a gun?"

Kurama smiled. "Yes."

"That's…" Yamato stared at the concrete beneath their feet, rolling her lips together. "… huh."

She did not appear happy to have learned the truth behind spiritual energy, unease evident in her expression. Try another tactic, then, Kurama thought. He stepped toward her with one hand upraised, smiling a smile he hoped appeared sincere.

"Forgive me if I overstep, but there is no need to be afraid. Not of me, and not of my friends," he said, allowing his smile to deepen when Yamato shot him a look of pure skepticism. "You will no doubt meet many people in the days to come, both humans and demons alike, who can manipulate their energies. Our abilities are like tools. They can be used for good, and they can be used for ill, but they are neither inherently good nor bad. Some are easier to sway in one direction over the other, yes, but…"

She took a deep breath, scowling. "Just don't do any freaky plant shit to me, OK?" she muttered, turning back to face the tracks. "I'd rather not get eaten by a mutant venus flytrap if I can help it." And then she appeared alarmed indeed, desperation in tone and carriage. "Can you make a mutant venus flytrap? Like with teeth and stuff?"

Kurama smiled. "Yes."

Yamato paled. "I wish I hadn't asked."

"Try not to worry," Kurama chided with a chuckle. "I only use plants with teeth on the strongest of my foes." But when Yamato's guard did not go down, he added, "Perhaps this will bring you some comfort. Your powers also likely stem from a manipulation of your spiritual energy. Although it appears to be an unconscious manipulation, and I admit I'm at a loss concerning how you manage to divine the future with accuracy. Your energy reserves are not much more potent than that of an average human, after all."

She blanched. "You can tell?"

"I can sense."

"As in, sixth sense?"

Kurama smiled. "Yes."

Her jaw dropped. Closed. Dropped again. "No shit?"

Her continued disbelief gave Kurama pause, though only for a moment. Gently he asked her, "Tell me, Yamato. When you look at me, what do you see?"

She shrugged. "A dude in need of a haircut."

Kurama stared at her. Yamato shrank a bit, fingernails tracing a nervous path down the handle of her suitcase.

"I shield myself with snark," she explained, and then she shrugged again. "I dunno. What do you want me to say? You're a tall, good looking man with really long red hair and green eyes." Here she looked annoyed. "It's like somebody summoned you from a Hallmark holiday display."

"Red hair and green eyes," Kurama repeated. "Are you certain that is what you see?"

"Uh. Yeah? Duh," Yamato said with her usual, flippant snark. "Kinda hard to miss, buddy. But what about it?"

Without a word, he turned around, putting his back to the train tracks. Slowly, incredulously, Yamato copied the motion until they both faced the train station's bank of tall, reflective windows. It was at these windows Kurama stared, their reflections looking back at them like a pair of hazy ghosts. Eventually Yamato had no choice but to follow the direction of his gaze, staring at the windows without understanding—but then she blinked, and blinked again, jaw dropping. She stepped forward with a wordless cry, meeting Kurama's eyes in the glass with disbelief etched into the lines of her face.

But Kurama did not blame her for staring.

After all, his eyes were mahogany in the window's glass, and his hair as black as Yamato's wig.

"Your hair—your eyes—" Yamato said. She looked between Kurama and his warped reflection once, twice, three times. "They're—they don't—"

"Only those with some degree of spiritual awareness can discern the colors you claim to see," Kurama said, taking a strand of scarlet hair between his fingers. "To others, my appearance is much more mundane—like that you see in the window." He searched her face for deception, but he did not find it. "You called me 'Red' shortly after we met. Doubt your powers if you'd like, but you've proven your eyes can see what others miss."

"That's… wow." She finally tore her eyes from the window, but only so she could turn to the tracks once more, hands in her pockets, head bowed, lips pursed. "I feel kind of stupid," she muttered.

"Don't," said Kurama. "All of this is new to you." He tried not to smirk; he mostly succeeded. "And I confess I've been toying with you, just a little."

Her eyes flashed when she looked at him askance. "You what now?"

"When Takeshi showed up, I went overboard to see how you might react," he said, gratified when her pricked pride brought some fire back into her eyes. "To see if, perhaps, you had abilities you'd kept hidden from us—or even, perhaps, from yourself."

"Asshole!" Yamato said, slugging his arm (it felt like being punched by a kitten; Kurama tried not to laugh). "I mean, what the fuck!?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Kurama said, his even tone clearly getting under Yamato's agitated skin. "You passed my little test, for what it's worth."

"Oh, good," Yamato snarked. "I'm ever so glad, sensei! Thank you for the lesson, sensei!"

Kurama only laughed. "I'll see you on the train." He gave her a nod, which she did not return, pride too affronted to waste time on pleasantries. "Enjoy the coffee."

He walked away satisfied that he'd alleviated at least some of her worries. Kurama had also pricked at her pride, which he had intended from the start. Yamato seemed the type to thrive if given someone to prove wrong, or at least someone onto whom she could direct her ire. If he had to be that person, so be it. The sooner they resolved the mysteries surrounding her, the sooner he could wash his hands of the entire situation.

But Yamato was not keen on letting him go so easily. Kurama had only walked a handful of meters away before her voice rang out, soft yet clear upon the thin morning air.

"You're not human, are you," she said.

It wasn't a question on her part. When he turned back to look at her, he found her staring, eyes distant, as if seeing into a world he could not discern—a fold in space in time privy only to Yamato and her cool grey gaze. Black hair whipped around her face when a wind blew past, but she made no move to comb it from her cheeks. She only stared, hand gripping the handle of her suitcase, other hand hanging loose at her quiet side.

"No," she said. "You're… something else. Not quite one or the other." The slightest tilt to her head, almost imperceptible. "A life begun in one world and continued in the next."

She said nothing more, and her eyes returned to the world in front of them. Yamato combed the hair from her cheeks, pink rushing into her pale skin like a blooming rose.

"Like I said," Kurama murmured. "Your gaze beholds sights unseen."

Yamato swallowed. She turned back toward the tracks, eyes growing distant once again, staring through them and into the bowels of the earth itself. Kurama had to wonder what she saw there, and if, perhaps, she could read her future in the pebbles scattered at her feet.

He did not ask her to elucidate, however.

He returned to the station to wait for their train, instead.

X

We'll actually get Yamato's perspective soon, don't worry.

BIG THANKS TO ChildofAsmodeus, Epsilon Kronos, Deus Venenare and a guest for saying nice things about my garbage. This garbage human loves you very much.