Chapter 12: Don't Be a Fangirl, It's Undignified

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On the roof of the high-rise next door to the underground speakeasy, Rei sat beneath the stars to text.

She felt a little guilty for leaving the party, of course. It wasn't often she could see Nobuo or Akemi anymore, apart from infrequent lunches or dinners when they passed through Tokyo. But she had business to attend to, and she couldn't leave it for another time. Not when Genkai's temple had absolutely ass-sucking service, a complete dead zone that guzzled reception bars like high schoolers on a Frappuccino binge. She needed to strike while the iron was hot (or receptive, she supposed) and get shit done while people were still awake to receive her message.

Luckily the building beside the speakeasy, one accessible via an underground tunnel, had a quiet rooftop lounge she could use to do just that. The rooftop was shaped like a C, the hollow in the middle of the letter represented by the stairwell entrance and a partially indoor bar that had opened its myriad French doors to allow the balmy spring air to drift inside. She didn't sit there, however, instead wandering to one of the far points of the C, set around back of the bar area beneath a wooden pergola. The pergola, festooned with fragrant, blossoming jasmine she'd been able to smell even from the alleyway below, provided some privacy, hiding the couch, glass coffee table and duo of chairs set beneath it in a ring. Nice and secluded, which Rei liked. Laughter drifted from the patrons by the bar, but the rooftop was otherwise relatively deserted… just what she'd been hoping for, truth be told.

If she was to survive the remainder of the evening with nerves intact, she needed to recharge for a bit in private.

Beneath the jasmine and the stars (so much brighter here in Tokamachi than in Tokyo, she noted with pleasure), she tapped quick messages into her phone, legs curled beneath her where she sat in the center of the couch. The jasmine cast a soothing smell over the entire area, a floral aroma that reminded her of a grand lady's perfume. It kept her wonderful company as she replied to emails and texts, sending responses flying into the darkness of the sky with each press of the phone's touchscreen. So many to reply to, so little time before she wound up back in the land of no reception. Genkai's temple was lovely, sure, but the lack of reception had been unforeseen and unwelcome—ironic considering the nature of Rei's recently revealed powers, but anyway. Before she vanished back into the voice, she'd be sure to install an automated outgoing email, not to mention update her voicemail to tell people she hadn't, like, died or whatever. The panicked texts and emails she'd found once she got signal again led her to believe people had thought she had done just that…

"Yamato?"

Black eyes jerked up from her phone. To Rei's surprise, Kurama stood just outside the pergola, face partially obscured by the hanging jasmine vines—but his viridescent eyes shined amid the vines and creamy flowers, irises even brighter than their leaves. Despite the vines, she could tell he wasn't alone. Another set of feet sat beside his on the rooftop, familiar leather shoes suggesting they belonged to Kuwabara.

And she was right. When she got up to approach them, she found Kuwabara with an arm slung around Kurama's shoulders, eyes bleary and posture slumped. She winced on sight. She knew the look of someone too drunk to function, and judging by the state of his elaborate (but messy as heck) pompadour, he was exactly that.

She couldn't help but feel a little guilty about that. She'd been the one passing him shots all night, after all…

That guilt is probably what made her abandon the couch, gesturing for Kurama to lay Kuwabara upon it so he could sleep off some of the booze. Kurama took her unspoken cue and deposited Kuwabara thus, where the big guy immediately lapsed into deep snores, a contented grin stretched across his broad face…. So he was a sleepy, happy drunk, then. That's nice. Far better than any other kind of drunk, in Rei's opinion. Kuwabara was a good guy even when in his cups, so to speak…

"Apologies for the interruption," Kurama said as he straightened up and adjusted his tie. "I saw you slip out earlier, and when Kuwabara began to nod off, I thought up here might provide some quiet where he could recover."

Rei had no doubt this was true. Kuwabara did need somewhere to rest. But the way Kurama studied her just then, as if to gauge her reaction, gave her the nagging suspicion that that wasn't the only reason he'd dragged Kuwabara up many flights of steps and all the way out here. He was keeping an eye on her, she was forced to conclude—a fact she tried not to find offensive.

"Good thinking," said Rei, pretending she hadn't noticed anything at all, no sir. "And I don't mind. Feel free to join me—or us, rather." Her lips quirked. "Doesn't look like Kuwabara will be leaving any time soon, after all…"

In silence Rei and Kurama settled into the chairs not occupied by sleeping drunks, pieces of padded patio furniture set directly across from one another at the short ends of the rectangular coffee table. Kuwabara snored between then and off to one side; when his arm flung out, flailing close to the table, Rei leaned forward to rescue the martini glass sitting dangerously close to his oblivious hand. The very full cup sloshed as she pulled it toward her, nearly pulling a party foul. She knew better than to commit such a sin, however. Nobuo would manifest out of the ether and murder her perky ass if she dared spill a drop of vermouth, so—

Kurama was eyeing her drink, one brow lifting below his crimson fringe. He wore a frown, too. But why?

"I thought you said you weren't drinking, in solidarity with Yusuke?" he said, providing a quick answer.

"Oh." She jerked her thumb sideways, toward the bar inside its hideaway around the corner. Kind of embarrassing to admit, but still she confessed, "A guy bought that for me a few minutes ago. I'll pour it into a plant in a bit. Or you could have it, if you prefer."

"I'll pass, but I appreciate the thought," said Kurama (and the storm in his eyes seemed to clear). "The plants, meanwhile, won't like that so much."

Rei giggled and said, "Think I should pour it over the edge of the building?"

"Only if you promise to watch out for passing pedestrians…"

She laughed; Kurama smiled. Before the conversation could lapse into awkward silence, Rei's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen, reading the text before typing a response with rapid strikes of her thumbs. Takeshi, wondering what she was up to now that he knew she hadn't been murdered and had her eyes devoured by demons. The joke made her smile, and she typed a (hopefully witty) reply in return.

Rei put the phone away after that, slipping it out of sight into her pocket—but as she lifted her head, she saw Kurama's turn, green eyes flashing as he looked from her direction and into Kuwabara's. Their eyes had met for just a fraction of a second, however hard Kurama had tried to avoid that happening. And she got the feeling had had been trying hard, indeed, based on the expression she'd caught in his eyes. One he'd wiped away as quickly as a monk striking a traced mandala from the sand, true, but one she'd nonetheless managed to spot.

"Sorry," she said. When Kurama gave her a look of polite puzzlement, which she didn't buy for eve a second, she added, "Sorry to be on my phone so much when you're sitting right there."

He smiled, another expression she didn't remotely buy. "It's no trouble," he said. "I don't mind."

"No," she agreed, "but do I think you're judging me a little for it" —and she felt more than a little gratified when Kurama's eyes widened just the slightest bit in his handsome face.

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to." Her turn to smile, tightly. "I saw you make the same face during dinner."

"Did you?" Kurama said.

"Yes." She shrugged. "I don't expect this will make it better, but it's just that to everyone in my life, it's like I up and vanished for a few days. I didn't realize we wouldn't have signal at Genkai's, so I didn't get to warn anyone but Takeshi that I'd be going out of range. I've been texting him to catch up and let him know I'm alive, but…"

"Takeshi is your demon friend, correct?"

"Yeah, but he's not the only person who noticed me going AWOL," said Rei. "My professors, my study group, my kids—"

Something passed over Kurama's face. A sourness, like he'd bitten into a lemon unexpectedly. But what did that mean?

Her phone buzzed again in her pocket, but she ignored it, because soon Kurama began to speak again.

"Your kids?" he said, tone delicate. "I didn't realize…"

"Oh. I haven't had children or whatever you're thinking." Rei let out a laugh at the thought; she was a hot mess on the best of days, definitely not ready to be an actual mom just yet. "I was in the foster system for most of my childhood, and today I volunteer to be pen pals with some kids in similar situations."

Another something passed over Kurama's features. This time it looked like he'd bitten into something hot that he'd expected to be cold. Once again he didn't let the look linger on his face, and once again Rei wasn't sure what it meant. But if past reactions to her situation (ones she thought were stupid as hell) had taught her anything…

"It's no big deal," she said when he didn't say anything. "I'm not, like, a saint or something. I'm just trying to give back a little, let their caseworkers know if there's anything they should know about."

She had about three kids on her list these days, each one of them a barrel of laughs… but each one of them reminded her of herself at that age, which made her a little sad. Lost. Alone. Confused. Hurting. She didn't allow herself to indulge in a weepy flashback, though. Rei just plastered on a smile and waved indolently at the jasmine overhead, trying to look… breezy. Yeah. Breezy and casual and not at all like a bug under glass. (Which is exactly how she felt when Kurama looked at her so intently, but anyway...)

"Most of my kids just want to chat and feel like there's an adult who'll listen to them," she said before changing the subject like a reversing freight train, "but my study group is full of other grad students who need extra pairs of eyes on their work, and I can't leave them hanging." The thought of school had her rolling her eyes and her chest heaving a sigh. "Ugh, but it's my homework that's the main problem. Turns out my professor sent me a bunch of materials I can use on my thesis since I've been gone, and since I don't know when I'll get to use the web next, I'm trying to download all of it while I still can."

Kurama continued to look at her, face impassive. Rei felt herself flush, heat rising in her cheeks unbidden.

"I get that that all sounds like an excuse," she said when Kurama again chose not to speak, "but…"

"No." The word, spoken firmly, was accompanied by a flash of bright green eyes. "Those are justifications, not excuses." Had a smile crept into them, or was Rei seeing things? "And they are good ones, at that."

"Oh my god," she said, delighted. "You know the difference between a justification and an excuse! I could kiss you!"

His eyebrows shot up like a rocket launching itself toward the moon; at once her face went supernova, and Rei wanted nothing more than to chug her untouched martini. She refrained, however. (Gotta think of Yusuke!) Instead she just cleared her throat and looked very hard at the floor.

"Oh. Um. Sorry. Figure of speech." A smile of apology and embarrassment, one delivered to Kurama on the silver platter of her bowed head. "Rhetoric is a big part of my field of study, so it's just nice when someone gets it, I guess…"

Kurama… he looked amused, damn him to hell and back. No one that good-looking had any right to wear that smile, one that did incredibly interesting things to his mouth. (Don't stare, girl! Rei told herself. Don't be a fucking fangirl; it's undignified!) She tried her best to play it cool, but it was difficult to compose herself when he looked at her like that. Heck, it was difficult to do anything but stare into those brilliant eyes and get a little lost. Rei forced herself not to do that, though, fastening her eyes doggedly upon her hands where they lay in her lap.

Once again she debated the merits of chugging her martini. Decided against it. Regretted the decision, but held firm.

"Anyway." Her thumb wandered toward her wig, but she forced it back into her lap before it could slip under the lacefront and tug—her nervous tick, she knew, and one she suspected someone as perceptive as Kurama would notice. In a rush and to cover her nerves, she babbled, "Technology really is great. With it, you can connect with people on the other side of the world in an instant. No matter how far away you are, you can always find a way to reach someone thanks to phones and the internet. I would've killed for this kind of technology when I was a kid. Maybe then I never would've lost touch—"

Rei stopped short when she realized what she had been about to say. Damn, girl, talk about flustered. She paused to regroup and regather her thoughts, unable to keep from noticing the way Kurama had begun to eye her—the way he did so often, an entomologist studying a bug under glass, observing her for purposes she couldn't name. It made her want to squirm, to tug on her wig, to run the hell away or stare back into those bright green eyes of his… but seeing the way his eyes glittered reminded her of the goddamn teacup, and what she'd seen in it, and—

Her face flushed on reflex.

Get it together, Rei!

She put all the stupid teacup shit out of her mind as fast and as hard as she could. Pictured locking it up in a box and throwing away the key, chucking the box in the ocean and out of sight. Doing that was tough, though. Super tough when Kurama had a habit of asking her pointed questions that kept catching her flatfooted, flustered when he inevitably made observations about her she thought for sure that no one would be able to catch. Rei kept catching him looking at her at the oddest times, too, in moments she was pretty sure he thought she was too distracted to notice. Like when she'd taken Nobuo's glove off with her teeth, for instance. As she'd tied the glove around her neck, she'd seen that telltale flash of green, challenging him with a curt 'What?' when their eyes met and he hadn't bothered to try and hide the fact he'd been staring. He'd looked away quickly, that time, and the next time he stared, he had the decency to pretend he hadn't been staring at all.

The next time she'd caught him staring, it had been during the group's trip to the karaoke bar. She'd been dancing with Akemi and Yusuke as one of the troupe members belted a Lady Gaga song when she caught Kurama looking at her. Hadn't let it slide that time, either. In fact, she'd marched right up and grabbed his hand and tugged him onto the dance floor with them, gratified to see him sputter in surprise.

Two could play at the game of getting under the other's skin, Rei had thought at the time. And she'd be damned if he won that game on her watch.

Not that she was terribly good at that game where he was concerned, however. She hadn't caught him looking at her again after the dance floor incident. Couldn't help but wonder why, of course. It was impossible to tell. Sometimes she felt she caught flashes of insight about what lay behind his pleasant mask, but these were few and far between…

"Yamato—I feel I must apologize," Kurama said.

Her head jerked up, sharp with surprise, to find Kurama once more looking at her. His gaze had lessened in intensity, this time, green cool like a shaded pond instead of the sky before a storm.

Again, she wasn't sure what this meant, or even if knowing mattered.

"You were right, earlier, when you said I didn't need to say anything," said Kurama. "I admit I was judgmental about your use of your phone. But… You're right." Kurama lips turned up at the corners, amusement at war with contrition. "Human technology is a wonder. I believe I undervalued just what it might mean to you, and I jumped to conclusions. For that, I am sorry."

"Thanks," she said, meaning it. "And it's fine."

"No." He shook his head with the same firmness that had backed his single syllable of rebuke. "I should have realized it sooner, the power of connectivity. Human technology has served me well in that regard many times. But there are some habits even a lifetime in this world are difficult to unlearn."

"What do you mean?"

"Demons have appropriated some technology from Human World, but the amounts are not great. Television and medicine are the main conveniences we're taken from your specie. But whenever I spend time in Demon World, it's through the use of human communication devices that I've kept in touch with the people I care about." His eyes thinned into pleased crescents. "The people like your Takeshi, who noticed when you went AWOL, as you put it."

"Cell phones get reception in Demon World?" Rei asked, intrigued.

"Not usually." His words held just a hint of teasing, of playfulness that made her toes curl. "But any technology can be manipulated if you know the right technician."

"So you know somebody who can get us reception at Genkai's temple, then?" she said, affecting bluster. "You've been holding out on me! Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"I'll have to give them a call, I suppose, and make it up to you." Kurama's levity faded, then. "Once more, I will apologize. Technology seems to have made young people so frivolous in recent years, and I…"

He trailed off. Rei watched him for a moment, cataloguing the topography of his sheepish smile—and then it clicked for Rei like a high heel on a marble floor.

"Oh my god. You're a grandpa at heart, aren't you?" she said, damn near amazed at the thought—and then she kicked herself, because why hadn't she made this connection earlier? "I mean, duh, you're hundreds of years old and some world-renowned demon thief or whatever, but still… you've got a young face but the soul of an old man." Rei put a hand to her back and hunched forward, miming walking with a cane. "Kids today! Whippersnappers with their Tiky-Toks and Tweeters, and that Faces-books with all the apps and such…"

Kurama laughed—an honest laugh, head tipping back to expose the column of his golden throat. He bore her mockery with good-natured humor, not at all defensive in the face of her teasing. An attractive quality in a man, not reacting like you'd punched him if you took a jab at his ego. Rei hated when people took themselves too seriously. She much preferred people like Kurama who—

Stop it, girl! Pull yourself together.

"Really, Kurama. I don't mind," she said, once more trying to act as breezy as a spring day. "People misread me all the time. I mean, I make damn sure they do, and it's kind of a skill of mine, but still. This is par for the course for me. I'm not offended."

Kurama just looked at her. Then:

"What do you mean when you say you make damn sure people misread you?"

Rei froze. Swallowed. Looked down at her hands.

"Because I confess," Kurama murmured, "I can't read you at all."

"Really?" Her head jerked up when she laughed, a loud bark of shocked humor. "I feel the same way about you!"

Kurama laughed, too, but softer. "It's a skill, I suppose."

"We're a pair, huh?" Rei shook her head, still laughing. "Well. I won't ask your reasons for acting all mysterious and inscrutable, but here's an insight into mine." Leaning toward him, she cupped a hand around her mouth and whisper-screamed, "I had to lie a little to get us into this party!"

"How so?"

"I had to pretend I wanted to attend it, for one thing." Rei flipped the ends of her synthetic hair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I might be wearing a purple wig and no bra, but I'm not actually that big of a party animal."

Perhaps it was her reference to her lack of underwear, but Kurama did the mildest of double-takes—a widening of the eyes, looking at her and away and back again like a swiftly striking meadowlark. Kurama's reactions often confused her, but this one she caught: He didn't believe her. He didn't believe that she wasn't a party animal. She didn't blame him for that, though. She knew the vibe she gave off, how easily she fooled people into believing she loved scenes like the one in the speakeasy. People misjudged her every day of the week; Kurama wasn't the first, and he would not be the last.

"It's true, I swear!" she said, laughing at his expression. "I just put on a good show and know the value of stroking an ego. The minute Nobuo heard I wanted to be here, all I had to say was that I missed his tattoos, and we got the VIP table."

"A play to his vanity, then," Kurama remarked—perhaps with approval, though she couldn't say for sure. "Shrewd of you, Yamato."

"Thanks. I try." She shrugged, good mood fading. "The truth is, while I really loved styling and choreographing for this troupe, I never really fit into the scene itself. I usually watched the shows from backstage, then went straight home and went to bed."

"And yet, you seem so at ease here," said Kurama.

"I like the people. I appreciate the art." Another shrug. "But what comes after the art never suited me."

Recognition turned jade to emerald. "The rubbing elbows, I take it."

"Exactly," Rei sighed. "It's exhausting, having to be 'on' the entire time, y'know?"

"I know very well." A wry smile graced his mouth. "Serving as Yusuke's advisor during his tenure as king, rubbing elbows and kowtowing with the powerful elite ranked last among my preferred duties."

"But you have to maintain those social relationships if you want to get anything done," Rei moaned with exaggerated exhaustion.

"The worst of them all were the ones who required flattery above all else," Kurama said. "Even if they knew the words rang hollow, it was the power they held while you spoke them that appealed to their perverse appetites."

"God." Rei rolled her eyes. "That look on someone's face when you're kissing ass, and they know it, and you know they know it, and they just let you do it because you have no other choice…"

"Monstrous." Kurama looked at once amused and exhausted, as if the sheer memory of court politics caused him fatigue. "I confess if I ever win the tournament of succession, I'll choose Yusuke as my advisor in the spirit of vindictiveness."

"You had to be Yusuke's fixer, so now he'll have to be yours. Love that journey for you." But Rei picked up on a hidden meaning in Kurama's words and leaned toward him, intrigued in spite of herself. "Do you want to be king someday?"

"I admit the title holds some appeal," Kurama said (after a moment's hesitation, so fleeing Rei almost didn't notice it). "But as my human life progresses, the possibility becomes less and less likely."

"Why is that?"

"My ties here have become nigh unbreakable." He spoke simply, without artifice—but despite his unadorned tone, Rei sensed that Kurama left much unsaid. "My human family would notice if I were to leave. And a kingship does not allow for lengthy vacations." His voice dropped low, nearly into a growl that made Rei's toes curl inside her shoes. "Besides…"

"What?"

He met her eyes with slow intentionality. "Yusuke delayed his wedding to Keiko because of his ascent to the throne," he said—and after a moment, his unsaid meanings slotted into place.

"But you can't delay being related to your human family," Rei said. "They'd be at risk if you took the throne."

Kurama nodded, once. "Precisely."

"I'm sorry." And Rei meant that, as inadequate as the sentiment sounded. "Ambition versus duty, huh?"

"My quandary rendered in but a few words," said Kurama with a beatific smile. "Poetic, or nearly such."

"Thanks." Rei didn't smile back, though. Curling purple hair behind her ear, looking at Kurama through her fan of false eyelashes, she murmured, "I guess I know the feeling. That's why I left the troupe, in the end. I like the scene. I like the people. But the attention I got came with too many consequences I just couldn't stomach. That's why I only ever went onstage once."

"You mentioned that before," said Kurama—and the time, he was the one who leaned forward, gleaming eyes searching her face with naked curiosity. Rei tried not to feel like a bug under glass again, though that was all but impossible when Kurama's green gaze found hers. "Now that I've seen a burlesque performance in action, could you describe the act that you—?"

Before he could finish that line in inquiry, and before Rei could properly feel surprised at his interest in her past performances (because Kurama did not seem like the type to enjoy burlesque), Kuwabara snorted and sat up, a bear emerging from its den at the end of hibernation. He blinked at Kurama, and then at Yamato, in a drunken stupor for a second, confusion tumbling across his face even as locks of hair fell from his pompadour to tumble over his high forehead. His pupils had completely blown out, mouth working, cheeks pale and throat tight—

"Hey, baby," said Rei, edging forward toward him in her chair. "You all right?"

Kuwabara did not reply. He just stared at her in confused silence—and then his cheeks puffed, his eyes bugged, and he clamped his lips together in a thin, white line. Even before he started gagging, she knew what was happening, watching with sympathy (and lurching, cold sympathy nausea) as he bolted to his feet and ran, one hand clamped tight over his mouth.

"Oh, dear," said Kurama, staring after his sprinting friend as he rose to his feet. "He'll need minding, I'm afraid."

"Go, go!" Rei clenched her teeth and tucked her head between her knees, arms clamping tight around her calves. "I can't handle vomit!"

Kurama chuckled, a sound Rei would've found quite pretty if she hadn't been two second from barfing all over her shoes. Feet clicked over the rooftop a moment later, Kurama's voice drifting to her as he left.

"Be right back," he said, and then he chuckled a second time. "Well. Hopefully, anyway. Kuwabara might be a little while…"

Rei breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, for a few minutes, listening to her heartbeat flutter in her ears. When the beat finally evened out, nausea fading down to nothing, she straightened up and fished a compact mirror from her pocket to check her makeup. Clammy sweat had broken out along her brow, but her eyebrows had been painted on with waterproof makeup and were no worse for wear. Her false eyelashes were still pressed neatly into place, as well, foundation silky and eyeshadow set firmly in place upon her lids. Only her lipstick needed a bit of touching up—and that was good, because the only cosmetics she'd brought with her were her powder and lipstick. Girl loved her makeup routine, but her suit didn't have much by way of pockets. And if she did stuff any of them too full, it'd ruin the lines of her suit's tailoring; she looked far too hot in the outfit to ruin it, that was for sure.

Not to mention her biggest pocket was already full, and not with her favorite makeup…

Rei had just finished touching up her lipstick and powdering her brow when her phone buzzed, notification flashing across the screen that she'd been sent another text. Checking it revealed she'd missed more than one message, actually, although Rei couldn't remember hearing her phone buzz but once during her conversation with Kurama. Had she truly been that absorbed in talking to him?

Well. In her defense, it had been an interesting conversation indeed. Kurama had already proven an interesting person when he revealed his past as a notorious demon thief, but at times his calm, cool and collected act made him seem… a little milquetoast? A little boring, maybe? She got the feeling that was intentional, much the way her party-animal persona was intentional. Like perhaps he didn't enjoy being in the spotlight, but…

Anyway. He certainly did seem like an interesting person now, after their talk. He was old-fashioned and well-read, curious about new things, but not the type to leap into anything without considering it from every angle, and he clearly considered himself above petty social games. And yet, he was also ambitious, thinking of kingship but balancing that desire with the need to protect his human family. A complicated guy, that Kurama. Rei had to wonder how deep those layers went… not to mention how burlesque factored into the equation. He'd seemed a bit stuffy when he'd reacted to her lack of bra when he first her chosen outfit for the evening, but to show open curiosity about burlesque meant he wasn't as big of a prude as she'd suspected. He hadn't seemed discomfited by the evening entertainment, either. The next time they got to chat, she'd have to follow up about his opinion of the matter. Really see what he thought of the whole affair.

Not to mention what he'd think of the act she'd once performed. Rei had to wonder what expression would cross his face if he ever watched the video of that performance…

Her cheeks heated again, wig hot and stuffy against her heated scalp.

Ugh, shit, get yourself together, girl!

Trying hard not to think about Kurama anymore, Rei stood and skimmed through her missed messages before placing a phone call. The phone rang a few times, Rei's foot tapping impatiently against the tiled ground, but soon Takeshi's voice grumbled like thunder over the line.

"Hey," she said. "It's me."

"Rei-chan!" He sounded a lot less thundery, then. "I got worried when you didn't text me back."

"I was busy for, like, 20 minutes!" Rei replied, defensive.

"Felt like longer to me," said Takeshi.

"What can I say? Being the life of the party is time-consuming."

"… you're sitting alone somewhere, aren't you?"

"No." Her cheeks flushed. "Yes. Asshole."

Takeshi laughed, long and loud. "You always do that—set up the party and then ditch it when no one's looking."

"Yeah, well," Rei grumbled, "I didn't get away clean this time."

"What's that?"

"Nothing. Somebody just noticed when I left, that's all." An unusual event in and of itself, if she were to be honest. She usually snuck away undiscovered; she was good at it. Ignoring the cotton-winged moths flying in her diaphragm, Rei said, "Anyway. You still stressing about the request?"

"Yeah… it's just so intimidating, y'know?" said Takeshi. "Her dad is so stern. I just want him to like me…"

"You've said you get along before!" said Rei, rising to her friend's defense—even though he was the one doing the down-talking. "And you have a good job and you're as cute as a button. What's not to like? He should be happy someone as great as you is asking to marry his daughter. And if he isn't, that's on him."

"Thanks, Rei." Takeshi sighed. "I needed that."

Rei smiled to herself, cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek. She'd been psyching Takeshi up to propose to Rikako for a while now. Even helped him pick out the ring. Now there just the not-so-small matter of Takeshi asking Rikako's parents for permission to marry their daughter, and he'd be ready to get down on one knee. Asking permission was a touch outdated, yeah, but Rikako's family was super old-fashioned and would appreciate it; Rei had stressed to Takeshi that he needed to formally ask for Rikako's hand, convinced beyond all doubt that she was right in her suspicions as to the act's necessity. Her gut had told her this was non-negotiable where Rikako's family was concerned.

… although now Rei had to wonder if it had been more than just her gut talking when she made that call.

Shaking herself, Rei wandered out from under the jasmine-festooned pergola, feet carrying her toward the edge of the roof and the four-foot-high railing blocking the patrons of the rooftop bar from a freefall to the pavement below. She leaned her elbows on the railing, looking out over the sparkling city of Tokamachi in silence, eyes soon travelling to the stars strewn across the black velvet sky.

Such beautiful stars our here, and at Genkai's temple, too. Tokyo, with all its lights and glamor, just couldn't compare.

"Anyway," Takeshi was saying. Concern filled his voice like warm water fills a jug. "Are you OK, Rei-chan? I know things have been really weird for you lately, but I hope you're all right…"

"I'm good," she said, although she didn't quite mean it—and Takeshi must've sensed this, because he twittered in undisguised doubt. Rei resisted tugging at her wig when she amended, "As good as can be expected, anyway. Still not sure what to do next, or what I'm supposed to do with the mirror thing, but…"

The mirror. At the thought of the object, her hand wandered to the pocket on the inside of her jacket, where the mirror lay hidden against her breast. It hadn't felt right to leave it at the hotel, unprotected and unattended. Much better to take it with her, she'd thought at the time. For safekeeping. For babysitting the ancient ghost that un-lived within it, or whatever. Turning her back on the railing, she leaned against it and withdrew the mirror from her pocket, holding its polished bronze surface up and over her head, angling it down at herself until the reflection of her face swam foggily into view. Her purple hair, black eyes and copper skin sat silhouetted against the street several stories below, dark pavement only a fraction of a shade brighter than her onyx eyes.

But that wasn't what drew her gaze. Her wig had slipped a little, purple edging back over the stubble on her scalp; she tugged the wig back into place with a jerk, leaning down to cradle the phone between her cheek and shoulder once again. The angle of the mirror shifted with the motion—and then Rei saw something strange.

A flash in the depths of the mirror, a different pair of eyes overlapping her own, pale skin eclipsing copper like the moon across the sun.

Almost of its own accord, the mirror twisted in her grip, a wriggling fish plucked from a silver stream. Rei let out a cry as she held on tight, watching as the object angled down and to the side by a fraction of an inch, reflection changing in turn—

The floor dropped out of her stomach.

Far below her, in the alley between the high-rise and the speakeasy, stood two men—bodies tiny in the mirror against the curve of her copper cheek.

"Have you had time to read many of your aunt's documents?" Takeshi's voice blared loudly in her ear, making Rei flinch like a startled bird. "The ones I brought you? Surely there's some clue—"

The men in the alley, small though they appeared at a distance, looked familiar, somehow. They were each huge, tall and broad, wearing enormous trench coats that swept the pavement beside their feet. For a second Rei couldn't place either of them, screwing up her eyes and staring at their reflection in the mirror—

Their faces tilted upward.

Light glinted off the pairs of ram horns curling from their temples.

When their eyes met Rei's in the mirror, both men began to grin.

"—in the box, right?" Takeshi finished.

But Rei didn't hear him. "Sorry, Takeshi," was all she said. "Sorry—but I need to go."

"Huh? Why?"

"No time," Rei said. "I just—"

Before she could finish talking—before she could even think of hanging up, or running, or doing anything at all—the two men leapt. One second Rei could see them in the mirror, the next they were gone, flying high and out of sight of the mirror's small field of view as if struck from existence by the hand of a wrathful god. Rei spun the second they moved, a cry bubbling on her lips—and then a silken voice in her head commanded her to look up—to look up, damn you!—as a shadow fell across her face.

Rei obeyed the voice in her head, and she looked up.

She caught sight of the two men—the two demons—as they reached the height of their jump. They seemed to hover in midair high above the building atop which Rei stood, bodies silhouetted against the swollen, rotting moon for the span of an infinity. An infinite length of time belied only by the frantic thunder of Rei's heart, blood in her ears and pulse in her jaw keeping track of the tick of seconds.

The moment stretched on, immeasurable and unbroken.

But this was an infinity not built to last, because soon enough the spell shattered, and the men began to fall—

—plummeting straight, inexorably, toward Rei.

X

OH SHIT IT'S THE PLOT, SOMEONE PLAY 'FLIGHT OF THE BUMBLEBEE'

Sorlian, Katsip12, Freaky Shannon-igans, cezarina, Damaged Forest Spirit and a Gertrude all left reviews last time and their kindness made me tear up a little ngl… never stop being such good humans, please, because i need you to keep me alive LMAO… SEE YA NEXT WEDNESDAY, LOVELIES!