Chapter 6: Homework Sucks but You Still Gotta Do It

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Kurama had occupied the uninterrupted quiet of Genkai's kitchen for some time before the door swung open. He looked up as Keiko walked in carrying a corkboard under one arm and a stack of notecards in the other. She grinned as their eyes met, apology writ across her face when she spotted his work laptop and the papers spread across the table.

"Hello, Kurama." Keiko pointed at the corkboard. "Mind if I join?"

"Hello, Keiko," he replied, "and not at all." When no one else accompanied her into the room, Kurama asked, "Does Yusuke know you're here? I think he went off to spar with Kuwabara, but I can—"

"Oh, it's fine. He met me at the bus stop when Botan and I arrived." Keiko set the board on the table, sitting down across from him with a huff. Her clothes were rumpled; Kurama suspected she had not arrived at the temple very long ago at all. "Yusuke said Yamato made a call back home and then went with Genkai to do some research, I think. How is she faring? I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since the incident."

"She's well enough, although this has all taken some adjustment on her part. But she seems the resilient sort, at least."

"That's good to hear." Fiddling with the stack of note cards, Keiko stared at the table and smiled—a wistful smile, distant but warm. "I know I certainly had an adjustment period when Yusuke first told me everything. Hopefully she'll be fine; I have a good feeling about her." Keiko's eyes flickered to his face; her expression morphed, confusion taking the place of nostalgia. "What are you smiling about, Kurama?"

"Your kindness," he said, admission as smooth as it was honest. "Ever since I've known you, you've been unfailingly kind." He offered her a genuine smile, one he did not often wear. "You have every right to be upset that Yamato's troubles have distracted Yusuke from your wedding day, but instead you show a stranger care and sympathy. It's admirable."

"Oh, stop it!" Keiko's face flushed, one hand waving in pleased dismissal. "I just know how she feels, that's all. I'm doing what anyone would do in my position."

But as Keiko began to spread out her notecards atop her corkboard, pinning them in place with thumbtacks, Kurama reflected that he wasn't so sure just anyone could mimic Keiko's unfailing and unbreakable sense of empathy. Ever since he had met her through Yusuke, he had quietly appreciated her ability to wrangle Yusuke at his most volatile, not to mention her acceptance of even the most colorful characters in Yusuke's life. He'd witnessed her ability to adapt time and time again—and now, it surfaced once more. He just hoped he spoke the truth when he said the boisterous and irreverent Yamato possessed a resilient spirit, and that Keiko's good feeling was likewise correct about her.

"Anyway." Keiko rapped her stack of cards on the tabletop, staring at the cork board with a frown. "What are you working on?"

"Some work spreadsheets I had intended to compile before the wedding," said Kurama. "There were a few things I needed to finish up in order to take time away with a clean conscience. I thought I'd get them done this week before traveling here, but… alas. I'm almost finished, however."

Keiko gave a sage nod. "This was all pretty unexpected, huh?"

"Indeed," Kurama said. "Though we're almost lucky Yamato's issues cropped up when they did. Kuwabara was out of school for spring break, and with the wedding so close, I had already taken off a few days. Extending my vacation was a simple matter."

Her frown deepened. "I wish I could say the same of this seating arrangement…"

Kurama craned his neck; sure enough, the cards she'd pinned to the board bore the names of their friends and family, all positioned around circular pieces of paper meant to represent tables. Even upside down, he knew precisely what he was looking at—because he had had a hand in crafting the original seating arrangement in the first place. Keiko hadn't been sure of any demonic politics to avoid when she first began her seating charts, and when she asked for guidance, he'd been more than happy to spend a few hours dispensing advice about any potential land mines she'd be wise to avoid. But why would she redo the seating chart now?

"May I ask why you are redoing it?" he inquired—mostly out of curiosity, but also out of the mildest of offence.

"Well," said Keiko, "I have to put Yamato somewhere on Saturday, all things considered."

And thus, Kurama understood. "Right," he said. "In all the excitement, it slipped my mind the wedding is so close."

"Same, if we're being honest. And that's saying something, considering it's been practically the only thing on my mind for months now." Keiko heaved a sigh, staring forlornly at her board. "It shouldn't be hard to fit her in since you refuse to bring a plus-one, Kurama, but… do you think she'd be more comfortable with the fun demons? I've been calling their table the Rowdy Table, but I have some vanilla human friends attending, and she might prefer…"

There Keiko went, being unfailingly considerate and empathetic again. Smiling, Kurama returned to his spreadsheets while she reorganized the seating chart. They talked occasionally as they each went about their business, but Keiko knew better than to chatter. She let Kurama work mostly in peace, until the door swung open again to admit Yusuke and Kuwabara into the austere, old-fashioned kitchen. Kuwabara had to duck beneath the bundles of herbs Genkai had hung from the rafters to dry; Yusuke just swatted them aside as he approached Keiko, reaching over her shoulder to jostle her name cards with a devious grin on his face. She swatted him in retaliation, and he ruffled her long hair in revenge. It was a cute scene, their affection for one another evident in their wordless repartee. Kurama couldn't keep from smiling at the sight. They were a perfect match—and he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"A destination wedding? How wonderful!" Shiori had said when Kurama told her he'd be travelling to attend Yusuke and Keiko's rather remote ceremony. His mother had been giddy to hear about their engagement, and she tried to keep the sly look off her face when she asked, "Do you think Keiko has any friends you'd like to keep you company while you're there? Or maybe you already have someone in mind to be your date?"

He'd only smiled at her, although tiredly. "Mother…"

"Oh, don't give me that look," she said, pretending to be cross. "I just worry about you, in the city all alone!"

She'd let the subject drop after that, but only for a little while. In the days leading up to the wedding, Shiori had asked more than once if he planned on bringing a date, and she'd smothered a disappointed sigh every time he told her no. Kurama hated disappointing his mother, as he did every time he arrived at a family gathering without a girlfriend on his arm, but he knew his empty romantic life was for the best. It would be far too complicated to pursue romance given the secrets he kept from his human family. If he dated a human, he couldn't he honest about his demonic past, because he did not trust that a human partner wouldn't let the details of said past slip to Shiori—and obviously he couldn't keep his partner away from his mother for very long. Dating a demon presented similar issues, as he would not feel comfortable bringing a demonic mate around his human family. Asking any partner to lie on his behalf or act as anything besides their authentic self was neither right nor honorable. Kurama, therefore, felt content to simply stay single, much to his mother's chagrin. It was better that way, Kurama thought. He had made the decision long before, and it was not one he felt willing to change.

As Yusuke went to the antique refrigerator to pour himself a glass of ice water, the door to the kitchen once more opened, admitting Genkai first and an extremely tired-looking Yamato second. Kurama watched from the corner of his eye as the latter flopped into a chair with a moan, head falling into her hands with the smack of flesh upon flesh.

"Someone feed her," Genkai commanded. "Her stomach's growling so loudly, I can't concentrate on research."

"So… hungry!" Yamato moaned into her palms. On cue, her stomach gave a mighty rumble, and she slipped further down into her seat. "Getting… weaker…!"

"Save the dramatics for someone who cares." Genkai spun on her heel and marched out, voice muffled as the door fell shut. "I'll be out back if anyone needs me. But try not to need me. Too many visitors already, and the wedding isn't even here…"

As her voice faded down the hallway, Yusuke began to cook, his chef's instincts taking over automatically. Soon a bowl of somewhat unconventional ramen sat before Yamato; she snatched up the chopsticks Yusuke brought her and practically inhaled the first mouthful, yelping as the hot broth hit her tongue.

She wore a bright pink wig, Kurama noticed. He wasn't sure when she'd had a chance to change it. He was sure it suited her better than her former hat, however.

"So did you learn anything more about your ancestor, Yamato?" Kuwabara asked, sitting beside her at the table.

She shrugged, noodles trailing from her mouth. "Ish."

"Ancestor?" said Keiko.

"Oh, right, Keiko!" Kuwabara smacked his forehead. "Yamato, do you want to explain, or…?"

She slurped up her noodles, readying another bite before the first was even finished. "Be my guest."

Clearly she just wanted to eat, so it fell to Kuwabara to tell Keiko about Himiko, whom they had witnessed speak to Yamato through the reflection of the strange, antique mirror that housed the ancient queen's powerful spirit. They had heard the entire conversation between Yamato and her ancestor, apart from a few whispered words at the end that had eluded even Kurama's sharp hearing. But Kuwabara knew enough to recount the facts without errors, and when he finished, Yamato pushed her bowl away from herself with a sigh. She'd eaten every scrap of food, hunger at last sated.

"Genkai has a nice little library, even if it's a disorganized wreck," she said. "We were able to find records of a legendary shaman queen in one of her books, plus some additional details Himiko didn't tell me herself."

"Details like what?" said Keiko.

"Mostly just more context. Queen Himiko of Yamatai-koku lived in the Heian period in Japanese history and was known in both Japan and parts of China. Scholars are divided as to whether she's a historical figure or just a fairy tale, owing mostly to her reputation as a powerful sorceress and shaman. They actually call it the 'Yamatai Controversy' and say it's the single greatest debate regarding the ancient history of Japan." Here Yamato's lips quirked, a mischievous glint lighting her black eyes. "Now we know she's real, but historical documents only tell us so much about her. Did learn about her symbols, though."

"Symbols?" Kuwabara said.

"Yeah." She tapped her temple with a finger. "When I saw her in my head, there was a vase with a tree branch in it standing right behind her. Apparently her symbol was the sakaki tree, which explains a lot."

"And the demon she mentioned?" Kurama said. "The one that associated in some capacity with your aunt?"

"Yeah, the one with the funny name!" said Yusuke. "Did ya learn any more about him?"

The light in Yamato's eyes faded. "Tuttivilus," she muttered darkly. "Yes, we did. But we only found his name in some Catholic texts."

"Catholic texts?" Kurama repeated, interest piqued. "As in the Bible?"

"No—supplementary stuff," said Yamato. "Apparently Catholic monks used to think Tuttivilus was a minion of Satan in charge of inflicting Biblical transcribers with writer's block."

"What the hell?" said Yusuke, face screwing up. "That's so random!"

"That's exactly what I said." Yamato rolled her eyes. "Clearly he was just using that name to be funny or something. I doubt he's actually a minion of Satan." She shot Yusuke a narrow-eyed glare. "Or is there something else you'd like to tell me about the supernatural world, huh?"

Yusuke grinned and winked. Yamato paled—but then he giggled, and she threw her chopsticks at him, not enjoying being the butt of a joke.

"So what you're really saying is that you've got zero leads," Yusuke said as he dodged the flying flatware.

"Must we put it so bluntly, Yusuke?" she said with yet another glower.

"Oh, that's a yes." His grin widened. "Thought so."

"You might be a good cook, but you suck as a cheerleader."

"I look terrible with pom-poms, anyway."

"Sure you do. But I wouldn't say I have no leads, though." Yamato stood and carried her bowl to the sink, rinsing it out under a jet of cold water. "Takeshi is bringing over that box I told you guys about—the one of my aunt's things? It'll get here tomorrow, and it'll have something useful, I'm sure of it."

"You've really never read any of what your aunt left to you?" Kuwabara asked after a brief hesitation.

"No." She spoke sharply, but then she sighed, some of the fight leaking from her tense shoulders. "Didn't seem worth the heartache. I thought I'd put everything about her behind me…" She shut the water off with a jab of her hand. "And yet, here I am, digging up the past all over again."

She sounded profoundly regretful about this, speaking more to herself than to anyone in the room. Based on her professed history, Kurama could understand her emotions. He, too, knew the pain of a past dredged from the confines of forgotten history. He'd never say as much to Yamato, however. It was not his business.

But Yusuke seemed to feel differently, because he said, "Honestly? Not all that surprised, that the past didn't stay buried. Sometimes you just gotta be dead for the truth to come out."

Yamato looked over her shoulder, brow arched high. "And how would you know that?"

"Well, it's what brought Keiko and me together, isn't it?" said Yusuke. "I saw her at my funeral and it really got me to see the light."

Yamato froze. "Your funeral?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Just something I figured out back when I was a ghost, I guess."

"Back when you were a who-what-now?"

"A ghost." He shrugged again. "Like, I was dead and stuff. You know."

But Yamato did not know. She turned around without a word, staring at Yusuke from beneath the fringe of her ridiculous, pastel pink wig, eyes unsettlingly intense in their all-black depth. Yusuke fidgeted under her deadpan stare, ears flushing beneath the heft of scrutiny.

"What!?" he eventually snapped. "I got better!"

"You got better?" she said, strangled voice rising an octave.

"Yeah, so?"

"So… so OK. OK! Wow, OK?" Yamato cycled through a blitzing cycle of disbelief, skepticism, disbelief, and then grudging acceptance. "We are definitely going to have to circle back around to that at some point, so put a very concerned pin in that for now and tell me more about seeing Keiko at your funeral and how apparently it was some sorta meet-cute?"

"Nah, it wasn't like that," said Yusuke. "Keiko and I met when we were little kids. And then when I was 14, I got hit by a car, and at my funeral she—"

Yusuke told a wide-eyed Yamato the short version of the story of his death and reincarnation, followed by the tale of how he fought demons for Spirit World as their chosen Spirit Detective. She stared at him in both horror and fascination while he spoke, eventually sliding back into her chair at the kitchen table. Her head slid into her hands shortly after Yusuke finished speaking, bright purple nails clashing brilliantly with her synthetic hair.

"You people," Yamato muttered. "Just when I think I've got a handle on you, the surprises keep on coming."

"Wait'll you hear about Yusuke being part demon!" Kuwabara brightly said.

Her head jerked up. "Yusuke is part who-what-now!?"

Of course, they then had to tell Yamato that story, namely how Yusuke had inherited demonic powers thanks to the genetics of his ancestor, Raizen. Kurama sat back and watched in amusement at the next round of Yamato's reactions, which included more staring, head-in-hands disbelief, and groaned protests at these unimaginable events—a reaction Yusuke clearly relished, judging by the grin on his face.

"Why me?" Yamato moaned when Yusuke was through. "Why me all the time?"

"There is a silver lining to all of this," Kurama said, taking pity on her. "You might say Yusuke knows precisely where you're coming from, in terms of having a powerful ancestor and a supernatural origin."

"Or you could just say that Yusuke's a big, giant weirdo," Kuwabara helpfully clarified.

Yamato eyed Kuwabara over. "And you. Are you some kind of demon descendant or something?"

"Nah. Just a regular old psychic human!"

"A regular psychic human, he says. Like that's a perfectly reasonable, non-paradoxical statement, he says." Once more, Yamato buried her face in her hands. "God, this whole day has been a trip and a half. Clearly I just stumbled into an ant pile. You have this whole history, world, context that I have to uncover piece by piece, and it's… it's disorienting."

"Yes, it's quite a shock, when you first hear about it." Keiko giggled, reaching over to pat Yamato's shoulder. "I had to take a long time to adjust, and I didn't even have a magical ancestor to come to terms with."

"Unlike some people," said Yamato, shooting a glare at Yusuke through her fingers.

"You'll be fine, Yamato," Keiko firmly said. "You're already making jokes; it took me ages to get to that stage. And try not to worry." She held up her corkboard and pointed at a table near the bottom right. "I think I've decided to seat you near my college friends. They're all typical humans with no powers to speak of, which should very comforting after what you've been through."

Yamato lifted her face from her hands. "Wait, sorry—what's this about seating?"

"Oh, right," said Keiko. "Well, you see, I'm having to redo my seating chart. It was tough at first, but I think I've finally cracked it, no harm done at all."

Yamato just stared at her. "But… why are you having to redo a seating chart?"

"To make room for you, of course."

"Make room for me where?"

"At a table," said Keiko.

"At a table where?"

"At the wedding. On Saturday."

"At the wedding," Yamato repeated.

"… yes?"

"On Saturday."

"Yes."

"As in, the wedding on this Saturday?"

"Yes."

"As in," said Yamato, her numbed patience finally cracking, "today is Monday, so you're talking about a wedding that is on the Saturday that will currently take place five days from now?"

"Yes," said Keiko, gently. "That's how calendars work, I think."

"Keiko—" Yamato swallowed, face the color of old milk. "Am I… coming to your wedding?"

Keiko smiled. "Well, it would be rude not to invite you since you're staying here, at the wedding venue…"

Yamato bolted to her feet. "THIS IS YOUR WEDDING VENUE?"

"Oh, dear." Keiko tittered. "Did we not think to mention this to her?"

"Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm going to your wedding. I, a complete and utter stranger, am attending the party meant to celebrate the happiest day of your life." Yamato had begun to pace up and down the length of the kitchen, old boards creaking under her feet with every frantic step. "I'm crashing your wedding, me, A TOTAL UNKNOWN!" Turning to Keiko in horror, she said, "Oh my god, Keiko, I am so, so, so, so sorry—"

"Oh, Yamato, please!" Keiko protested. "It's no big deal at all!"

"Yes it is! It IS a big deal!" Yamato shot back. "I'm a nobody! A stranger! A stranger who could have terrible table manners and totally embarrass you in front of all your beloved friends and family! I am an unknown variable in the calculation that is your big day, and the potential for complete chaos is completely—"

"Calm down!" Yusuke barked. "It's really not a big deal!"

"It's true, Yamato," Kurama said, trying to sound soothing (and trying to keep the amusement off his face). "We deal with situations like this all the time."

"You deal with wedding crashing former fake fortune tellers all the time?" she said with deadpan sarcasm. "How often do you people get married? And meet fake fortune tellers who are actually real ones who are being pursued by weird Catholic demons who kill people's aunts and want to eat the aforementioned fake fortune tellers' eyeballs?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" grumbled Kuwabara.

"You see!?" Yamato shook her head and paced again, hands thrown up in consternation. "No. Nope. No. Nuh-uh. This is not OK, and I—" Yamato rounded on Keiko, pointing at her with one steady finger. "I'll make it up to you."

"You will?" Keiko said.

"Yes. I will. By being your fixer."

"My what?"

"Your fixer," said Yamato. "If you have a problem, I will fix it. Because I am your fixer. Different from a maid of honor or bridesmaid, because they care about you and the people you love. But me, a stranger?" Her chest puffed with pride. "I don't give a crap about you, or them!"

"That's not reassuring!"

"Au contraire, Keiko," Yamato said, wagging her finger. "Let's say you learn that a friend of yours has been badmouthing you, or that your great grandma Bertha is horrified she wasn't invited and says she'll cut you out of the will if you don't let her attend."

"But I don't have a great grandma—"

"The point," Yamato cut in, "is that I don't give a damn about either of these hypothetical people, so if you need to un-invite them or have any other awkward conversations about great-grandma's racist upbringing, I'm your girl." While Yusuke smothered a snicker with his hand, Yamato counted on her fingers, cataloging scenarios for Keiko's benefit. "Gotta fire the florist? Let the fixer do it. Need to tell a high school ex you haven't seen in years to fuck off? I'm your girl, baby! Need to bury the body of that high school ex if they don't get the message that they're an asshole and you snap and wind up with a corpse on your hands? Just hand your fixer a shovel, chickadee, because this is YOUR DAY, and I am going to make sure it's as smooth as a baby's unblemished ass cheeks by the time you say 'I do.'"

Keiko stared at her, mouth agape, for a moment's time.

Then she closed her mouth, swallowed, and admitted, "That… actually sounds pretty great."

Yamato beamed. She marched up to Keiko and took her hands in hers, staring earnestly into Keiko's (suddenly awkward) eyes.

"I will earn my place at your wedding, Keiko," Yamato declared. "I make you the sincere and solemn promise that I will."

Yusuke loosed a cackle. "Well. I'm convinced!" he said. "Think she could tell Genkai that she smells like old people? Because that's a conversation I'd love—"

"That woman hits like a freight train, so no—I would do anything for Keiko, but I will not do that." Yamato ignored Yusuke as he sputtered, turning back to Keiko to say, "Anything else, though, and I'm game. I'll help with anything you need; anything at all." She searched Keiko's face, sincerity apparent upon her own. "Ya feel me?"

"I feel you," said Keiko with equal sincerity. "But for tonight, you're off the hook. The prep work begins in earnest tomorrow, so rest easy for the time being, OK?"

"OK. Whatever you say. Literally. Whatever you say, I'm there." Yamato grinned. "But that's good timing, because to be honest, I actually have some homework to do."

Yusuke pulled a face. "Homework?"

"Be back in a jiffy!"

She left the room without another word, not waiting for any follow up questions before exiting the kitchen. When she returned only a few minutes later, she carried with her a suitcase, which she lay upon the floor and unzipped with a twist of her well-manicured hand.

"This is my book suitcase," she said, flipping open the lid to reveal rows upon rows of books and binders. "The others were for clothes and wigs, but this is all books."

Yusuke glared. "Isn't that the one you made me carry?"

"Hmm? What? Did I?" Yamato pulled a few volumes into her arms. "I don't remember."

"You ass. So that's why it felt like you were lugging around a bunch of bricks." Yusuke stuck out his tongue. "Only worse, because these bricks are nerdy."

Yamato just laughed. "Never leave home without good reading material, as I always say."

Kuwabara eyed one of the thicker volumes in her luggage. "The History of Literary Organizational Practices?" he said, quoting the writing on its cover. "You consider that good reading material?"

"That," she said, grabbing that book, too, "is my homework. Homework sucks, but you've still gotta do it."

"Oh, right. You said you were in college," Kuwabara said. "But aren't you a little old for college? Most people go right out of high school, and you've gotta be our age, at least."

Rising, Yamato deposited her books on the table. "How old are you?" she asked.

"27."

"I'm actually older than that. I'm 28." She tossed her sakura-petal hair, grinning. "But I don't think anyone's too old to be getting their master's degree."

"Your master's?" Kuwabara said.

"Yup. I'm a grad student in library sciences. I was just speaking offhand when I said I was in college yesterday."

Yusuke coughed into his fist. "Nerd alert!"

"Oh, shut up!" Keiko said, swatting his arm.

Comparatively speaking, Kuwabara took this news in better stride. "Library sciences, huh?" he said. "That's… not what I'd have guessed you'd study, I guess. You don't exactly…"

Yamato tossed her hair again. Pointedly.

"What—I don't look the part? Act the part?" she said. "What, a librarian can't have pink hair and offer to bury a new bride's bodies?"

"I mean, I normally picture a pencil skirt and glasses," Yusuke said. "And a bun. And a blouse. Heels, maybe…" He grinned, a faraway look in his eyes. "Kinda shy, but secretly a freak…"

"I was gonna ask when was the last time you set foot in a library," Yamato muttered, "but judging by that description, the only librarian you've ever laid eyes on was in a porno."

"You're not wrong!"

She laughed when Keiko swatted Yusuke again, not at all bothered by his crude humor—graceful under pressure, not easily flapped. Joking after learning she shared a table with demons and the formerly deceased. Kurama might just have been right when he said she was the resilient sort.

"As for whether or not library work suits me… What can I say? I'm surprising like that." Yamato winked. "Gotta keep people on their toes, right?"

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Yamato began to organize her books on the table. While several of them wore stickers claiming them as library property, quite a few bore tattered edges and dog-eared pages, marking them as Yamato's personal property. The subjects weren't exactly leisurely, either, and Kurama wondered if a reassessment of his opinion of her was in order. He wouldn't have suspected someone so crass, flashy and flamboyant to study such dry subjects, but Yamato was true to her word in the sense that she came full of surprises.

"It's certainly an interesting choice of study," he found himself saying. When she glanced his way, he asked, "What piqued your interest in the vocation?"

She looked away quickly. "Just spent a lot of time around books as a kid, is all. Anyway." A clear change of subject if Kurama had ever seen one; she took a deep breath before saying, "Is this interrogation over, or do I need to go find a quieter place to study?"

Even when he'd been in school, Yusuke had been loath to study; it was no wonder he left the kitchen in short order, dragging Kuwabara with him so they could continue to spar outside. Keiko followed, leaving Yamato and Kurama to work on their respective projects in silence. Yamato didn't bother with small talk, swiftly slipping into one of her books with a pad of paper open on the table at her elbow. She occasionally jotted down notes and highlighted passages in her book, but aside from the scratch of her pen, she worked in silence. A far cry from her frenetic pacing and rapid-fire speech from before. Kurama, mostly finished with his work, couldn't help but glance at her on occasion as he placed the final numbers and quotes into his spreadsheet. It was interesting to see her so composed and serene. A different side to her, one he hadn't at all suspected lay beneath the surface. It continued even when she sighed and shut her book, rubbing her eyes as she set it aside and lifted a different tome off of the table. Yamato removed its dust jacket before Kurama could make out the title, and before she could settle into and get lost in this new text, he cleared his throat.

"Is that more homework, or are you reading for pleasure?" he asked.

"The latter," she said without looking up. She held the book aloft so he could see the spine, eyes still locked on the page. "Malcolm Gladwell's latest."

"I'm passingly familiar with his work. Nonfiction?"

"Yeah. Translated from English, though; my English is good, but it's not that good. I don't actually read much fiction at all these days." One knee curled up toward her chest, arm looping tight around it. "Seems a waste to read about fantasy when reality has so much to offer… as I have become all too uncomfortably aware of in the past 24 hours." Finally she looked at him, dark eyes distant with wry humor and reluctant contemplation. "Maybe I should read some fantasy, get genre savvy about supernatural bullshit before shit really hits the fan…"

"Perhaps you're right to stay in the realm of reporting," Kurama said. "The truth, after all, is often much stranger than… well. You know the phrase."

"Indeed I do. All too well, in fact." Yamato shook her head, a sardonic laugh slipping from her mouth. "Demons, ghosts, ancient spirits, legit fortune telling… it's a lot to take in."

"You'll manage." Strangely, he rather meant it when he said, "Of that, I have no doubt."

But Yamato was still skeptical. "What, can you see the future now?"

"Not quite. But I consider myself a good judge of character." A smile tugged his mouth. "You may be somewhat prone to dramatics—"

"Somewhat?" She looked offended, but not for the reason he thought. "Nah, honey, you can be real with me. My high school theater resume makes it clear I am a drama queen."

"Yes. You are." This, too, he meant with utmost sincerity. "But despite that, you don't seem like the type to break under pressure lightly. After what you told us of your past…"

Her eyes hardened; the humored lilt vanished from her voice. "Don't give me that pitying look," she said, a note of warning coloring her words. "Because I neither need it nor want it."

"Then it's a good thing I wouldn't dream of pitying you," Kurama said, fighting back a smile. "You might throw that wig at me."

That got a laugh out of her, as he'd intended. "Smart man. This wig is dangerous. But anyway." Fiddling with the edge of her book, Yamato murmured, "I suppose all of my bullshit seems pretty mundane compared to what you've been through."

It wasn't a question, although she'd almost phrased it as such. It was a statement, one that placed an edge of stone into Kurama's affectation—because after what she'd said of his past back at the train station, he was not sure how far her knowledge went. He did not like not knowing. But he was not the type to merely wonder.

"How much do you know about me?" he asked, cutting directly to the chase.

She paused a moment, thinking. Eventually she murmured, "Only what I said at the train tracks. You've lived more lives than this one. And I…" Yamato shrugged; her eyes darted up to his, meeting them with unabashed curiosity. "I don't think you've always been human."

Kurama swallowed. "Did Himiko tell you that?"

Yamato frowned. "Maybe? I don't really know how it all works yet. She said it's her power, but my predictions. Or something?" Yamato shook her head. "Point is, you've got this sense of… otherness about you. One that Kuwabara, and even Yusuke, lack." She attempted a joke, smile sly. "Maybe it's the hair changing colors or something. I dunno. Enlighten me?"

Kurama said nothing. For a time, Yamato waited in silence, looking at him with clear expectation written upon her face—but then she blinked, and that expectation vanished. Understanding took its place in the blink of an eye.

"You don't have to tell me anything" she blurted, closing her book around her fingertip. "I think I took for granted that you know all about me, and that you'd share in return. Obviously you're not obligated to do that. Sorry for being nosey." She opened her book again, holding it in front of her face. "This is me, butting out. Enjoy whatever you're doing on that laptop. Thanks for letting me study in peace and waiting for an opening to strike up conversation." The book lowered just enough for her to look at him, eyes glittering with embarrassment. "You're, ah. Sharp. And considerate. It's appreciated." The book rose; Yamato vanished behind it. "I'm gonna read now. Thanks."

Silence fell like darkness at dusk, thick and comforting and heavy. Kurama watched Yamato as her book slowly lowered, the woman sinking into her reading and forgetting her self-consciousness as the text transported her elsewhere in space in time. Eventually she seemed to forget about Kurama entirely. It was only then that Kurama went back to his work, tinkering with the spreadsheet he'd created until every cell was filled. His mind ran along other tracks, however, barely paying attention to his work at all. It was only when Yamato put down her book and got a glass of water that he finally snapped back to himself, watching as she held the glass to her neck beside the sink, rolling its cool contours against her skin.

Soon, he spoke.

"My human name is Minamino Shuichi," said Kurama. "I was a fox demon before I was Shuichi. I suppose I still am a demon, in all the ways that matter."

Yamato's hand lowered, glass clattering against the counter. "A fox demon?" she repeated, without turning around.

"Yes," Kurama said. "I was a thief, obsessed with stealing the most coveted of treasures—and at this I excelled."

Here she turned, at last—and her eyes held fascination, as Kurama suspected they would. She leaned back against the counter, studying him, arms crossed tight over her chest.

"But as word of my exploits spread, so too did my ego. And my hubris earned me death." At her gasp of shock, he held up a hand. "But before I expired, I cast my spirit from my body and ventured to Human World, where I entered a human embryo before it could acquire a proper soul. I was reborn to human parents and raised by them as such."

The considered this a minute. "So the name Kurama…"

"Was my name in another life."

"OK." She considered this, too, head bobbing in an absent nod. "So a fox demon then, and a human body now. What does that make you today, in practical terms?"

He smiled. "I'm still finding that out, I'm afraid."

"Cryptic. I can respect that." Yamato's preoccupied nod deepened into one of gratitude. "Thank you for trusting me with all of this."

"Don't misunderstand. Yusuke and the others know all of what I've told you, and no doubt they would tell you the truth if you asked it of them." He chuckled, eyes briefly falling shut. "I suppose I'd simply rather you hear it from me than them, is all."

Yamato blanched. "Way to make a girl feel special and then rip the rug right out from underneath her, Kurama."

"Apologies. I find it best to speak plainly, when I can." He hoped his smile might offer some consolation. "It's something of a paradox, but often in plain truth exists a beauty most ornate."

Yamato didn't reply for a moment.

Then, softly, she said: "Pretty words, fox boy."

"Beg pardon?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Shoving away from the counter, Yamato crossed the kitchen and slid her books off the table, sweeping them into her arms and then into her suitcase. "I'm just beat and clearly need to get to bed. You have a nice night, OK?"

He stood up on reflex before he could think to refrain. "Do you need any help—?"

"No," she said, too quickly. "I've got it." Her suitcase's zipper hissed like an unsettled snake; she refused to look at him, but an uncharacteristic darkness had fallen in her black eyes, one he did not understand. "Thanks."

Without another word, Yamato pulled her suitcase upright and tugged the luggage into the hallway and out of sight. Kurama sank into his chair as the suitcase's wheels rolled down the corridor, listening as Yamato headed in one direction before backtracking, the woman momentarily lost in the temple's maze of hallways. Eventually she found her way, however, and Kurama listened with too-sharp ears as her bedroom door opened and shut behind her.

Only after she retired did he gather his things, leave the kitchen, and turn out the light—bathing the room in shadows that echoed the darkness flickering in Yamato's unsettled and wary eyes.

X

WUT UP, FRIENDOS, IT'S ME, YA BOI. Well actually I'm a chick but whatever, I'm just so fucking happy that you are enjoying this so far. You are all magnanimous golden toasters and I love Zayren Heart, Lady Skynet, SilverThornz, SterlingBee, Damaged Forest Spirit and a guest for reviewing and MAKING MY GODDAMN DAY.

I AIN'T DONE THO. Yo but for serious, Lady Milk-tea reviewed all five previous chapters and I nearly died of delight. YOU NEARLY MURDERED ME, LADY MILK-TEA. ARE YOU HAPPY? (I know I sure as shit am!)

Gonna try updating weekly if I can. I'm back on my bullshit and no one can stop me.