Chapter 19: "One Entire Onion of Trauma"


Upon locating the source of the disturbance in the defenses he had laid around the temple perimeter, Kurama immediately noticed two things. The first was that his traps had not been tripped by one of the demons hunting Rei. In fact, in a fit of burning irony, Rei herself had managed to trigger the demonic plants he'd installed to guard the temple from interlopers, the very woman he had aimed to protect fallen victim to her own guardians.

The second thing he noticed was that Rei, against all odds, had somehow managed to stab one of the aforementioned guardians with a stick.

"Not today, Satan!" she was screaming, waving around a broken bit of sharp branch as the bulbous head of the pitcher plant thrashed. Its tongue lolled while a wound on its flank bled bright green sap. Rei sat only a few meters away, trying desperately to scramble back from the plant, but its vines wound tight around her ankle as they tried to drag her toward the creature's gnashing teeth. Slapping at the vines with her makeshift weapon, Rei warbled, "I know I'm a snack, but this is ridiculous!"

Kurama would've laughed had the situation not been so dire. As it stood, he refrained, snatching a blade of grass mid-run and leaping over Rei to deliver a quick slash, severing the vines wrapped around her ankle with an efficient twist of his wrist. Her cries cut off with a gasp; Kurama paid her no mind and instead approached the pitcher plant, dodging its flailing limbs and snapping teeth to wrench free the branch lodged in its side. A quick burst of energy calmed the beast, fronds falling still, body pulling inward until it resembled a normal (if not supernaturally oversized and oddly colored) pitcher plant once more. Its teeth and tongue retracted inside the bell of its body as though they had never existed, lying out of sight and in wait for its next meal.

He turned. Rei sat on the ground, staring at him with eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Her wig was askew, he couldn't help but notice. He did his best not to look at it.

"Rei," was all he said. "Are you all right?"

The sound of his voice thawed her frozen spell. "Jesus!" she said, word bursting from her mouth like a gunshot. She mopped a hand over her face, hand sneaking up to thumb her wig lower over her forehead. "I mean — Jesus Christ! What the fuck was that thing?"

"Darlingtonia californica," said Kurama. "A species of pitcher plant native to North America… crossbred with a demonic variant, anyway." When she failed to react, he added, "One of my personal creations."

"One of your — ?" Her finger lifted, pointing at the plant as her face turned red with fury. "Well buy some damn weed killer, Kurama, because your little gardening project is out of control! It eats people!"

"I warned you, didn't I?" When her expression morphed to one of mystification, he smiled. "You asked about Venus flytraps that day at the train station. I said this was well within my purview."

Rei gulped. "I thought you were teasing me."

"Never."

A new expression crossed her face; Kurama was at a loss to read it. He waited in silence as Rei collected herself and stood, silently brushing the grass and leaves from her pants with hands that shook. Ink-spill eyes surveyed the quiet plant sitting serenely at Kurama's side, suspicion writ across their dark depths. Tension pulled her mouth into a thin line. From the set of her shoulders and the way she stared in such drawn silence, Kurama got the sense she'd been rattled, and badly, by the experience of being nearly eaten by one of his more vicious plants — not that he blamed her. Far more powerful creatures than Rei, humans and demons alike, cowered in fear at the sight of his abilities on full and deadly display. Despite her powers, Rei's spiritual energy was nowhere near on par with the enemies this plant had slain before. In fact, her energy was so weak that Kurama hadn't thought she'd be able to earn his plant's interest (much less its ire) at all. Her energy was merely —

Kurama frowned. Something was off.

Rei flinched when he moved toward her, still possessed with the urge to flee. He moved in slow increments to put her at ease.

"Rei," he said, voice low and soothing. "Hold still."

The fact that she obeyed and allowed him to take her hand in his was a testament to both her willpower, solid enough to stand so tall in the face of fear, and her trust in Kurama. She didn't resist or try to pull away when he laced their hands together, palm to palm, and shut his eyes. Before today, her energy was so slight, he needed physical contact to assess it properly. She held still while he pushed forth a feeler of his energy to brush against hers — and what he felt there surprised him. Her energy had grown since the last time he'd touched it with his own. It had grown in leaps and bounds, in fact, a depth yawning below the surface like the mouth of an underwater cave. A pressure she had not emitted before radiated from her spirit, a ringing bell of force Kurama had somehow failed to noticed before. When had Rei's power grown? Clearly she had triggered the awakening of his plants, and no one else.

Another sweep of Kurama's energy over the nearby forest told him he was correct. Apart from forest creatures and the ordinary plants of the Ningekai, Rei was very much alone. No demons threatened her or the rest of the temple. Threat ascertained, Kurama sent two long, slow pulses of energy washing back the way he'd come toward the temple. Yusuke replied with two matching pulses of his own — their agreed-upon signal that all was well.

Kurama's eyes opened. Rei looked at him with worry, dark eyes locked on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Is everything OK?" Her fingers tightened around his. "Why'd that plant attack me, huh? You said it was yours, right? Why's it even there in the first place?"

"I have installed plants like the one you antagonized all around the perimeter of the temple as a form of protection against the demons hunting you, and against any other demons that may threaten us," he explained. Rei, he sensed, would need sufficient answers to contextualize her experience if she was to calm down. "They should not react to anything with low levels of spirit energy, and I thought this meant you would be exempt from harm as a result… but apparently I miscalculated."

Rei's brows shot up. "The hell does that mean?"

"Your spiritual energy has increased sometime in the past few days — by quite a degree, I might add." He studied her face, watching myriad emotions flicker across it as she wrestled with this discovery. "This evening I had planned to introduce the energies of my friends to the plants so they would be able to cross the perimeter at will. I thought you would be safe even if I did not perform this task with you, but I see now that I miscalculated."

Displeasure flickered in the corner of her eyes; she looked away with a huff. "I know we've only known each other a few days," she said, sarcasm dripping, "but gee, thanks for leaving me off of that VIPF list, I guess!"

"VIPF?" Kurama repeated.

Her full lips twitched at the corner, smile rather sly. "Very Important Plant Food. Duh."

Kurama smiled back. "Technically, it would be insulting if I placed you onto a list with that title, as it would indicate you are plant food."

"Don't play semantic gymnastics with me, mister," Rei retorted. "You knew what I meant. You left me off your friend list! What is this, Facebook in middle school?"

"Try to refrain from feeling slighted. There hasn't been time to amass a VIPFE list quite yet."

Rei's head cocked. "VIPFE?"

He leaned toward her with a grin. "Very Important Plant Food Exemptions."

Rei huffed again, but the way her lips twitched told Kurama she enjoyed the line more than she let on. "The audacity," she said, shaking her head. "Get your own jokes."

"But yours are so entertaining to steal, and I am a thief," he reminded her. "I only just put these plants in place, for the record… leave it to you to wander into trouble at the earliest opportunity, I suppose."

"Trouble magnet, that's me." Black eyes darted toward him and away again. "Um…"

"Yes?"

The fingers still clasped in his drummed against the back of his hand.

"Are you done with my hand," Rei said, a teasing lilt lifting her throaty alto, "or are you just feeling cuddly today?"

Kurama had forgotten about the hand in his somehow; he released Rei and cleared his throat, backing away a step to give her space. An embarrassing oversight on his part. He'd been distracted. To his relief, Rei didn't mock him or draw attention to the misstep. She shot him the smallest of mollifying smiles before stepping away and walking past him, beating a hesitant track toward the now-docile pitcher plant. Without speaking she stared up at the creature, eyes roving and roaming as they sought to understand the thing that had nearly killed her — and then, to his immense surprise, Rei lifted her hand toward the plant.

"Oh. Um." Rei glanced over her shoulder, hand pulling back again. "Can I touch it?"

"I would prefer that, actually." He indicated the plant with a wave. "With me here, it won't attack, and it will remember your energy should you run afoul of it again."

She smiled. One bronze fingertip traced down the plant's nearest leaf before traveling to the its garishly striped body. The fingertip turned into a sweeping caress of her palm, slow and exploratory. The contrast of her paler flesh next to the plant's vivid coloration struck Kurama as oddly memorable, a sight he wasn't sure if he'd ever beheld with such calm. Normally anyone who touched his plants wound up screaming, not staring with such serene scrutiny.

"You know… in spite of this thing nearly biting my damn head off, it's actually kind of cool," Rei said. "In, like, a heinous sort of way, of course, but…"

Kurama stared at the back of her wigged head. "You think it's cool?"

"I really liked Little Shop of Horrors as a teenager," she said, as if that explained everything.

Alas, it did not. "Little Shop…?" Kurama repeated, not following.

"Oh, god." Her hand dropped; Rei look scandalized. "We need to have movie night, ASAP." She shook her head, reaching for the plant again. "My point is that thing is very nearly beautiful, once you get past the drool. And the teeth. And the blood-thirst." She laughed low in her throat. "Y'know, the little things..."

Now that she'd calmed, Rei reacted to this experience the way she'd reacted to so many others that had come before. She bounced back quickly, needing only a brief time to regroup before recovering her sense of humor and sharp wit, evidencing an admirably elastic set of nerves atypical for most humans when they encountered the supernatural for the first time. The fact that she could appreciate Kurama's vegetative handiwork was interesting indeed. It wasn't often others could discern beauty in the more macabre of his creations. He watched with interest as she continued her exploration of the plant, pleased at her ready willingness to adjust to the newest bit of information introduced to her already chaotic life.

His pleasure turned to choler, however, when her other hand when joined the first to touch the plant, and a streak of blood followed in its wake.

"Rei," he said. "You're hurt."

"Huh?" She pulled her hands back, blinked down at them, then grimaced. "Shit. I hadn't even noticed, what with the adrenaline and all." Her lips pulled back over her teeth. "But now that I do notice it, shit! That stings!"

"Come here. I can tend to it."

The pitcher plant Rei had stumbled upon occupied a small glen within the forest around Genkai's temple. A fallen tree near the edge provided them a place to sit, Kurama at Rei's side so he could gather her arm in his hands and examine the scrapes marring her smooth skin. A rope-burn in the shape of a clinging vine stretched from her wrist to the middle of her forearm and wept bright blood; another lanced along the side of her index finger, gash irregular like she'd dashed her hand on a fall branch or rock. It was a small matter to remove a seed from his hair and grow a flower on the stump beside them. Its petals wept a salve he'd used many times throughout his lives to clean and bind minor wounds. The flower's leaves would serve as bandages until another, more traditional variant could be acquired.

Not that these proceedings were at all ordinary to Rei. Eyes keen on his hands, she watched him work in enraptured silence, even letting out a laugh of delight when he grew the flower on command. She inspected his work with an appreciative grin when he finished and released her arm back into her care.

"Your hands can heal, your hands can bruise, huh?" she said with a chuckle.

He frowned. "What did you say?"

"Don't mind me. It's a song lyric." Her hand flexed, leaves like jewels against the bronze of her skin. "Just interesting that you can make plants heal people and bite their heads off, is all."

"Although I am capable, I confess healing isn't my strong suit," Kurama admitted. "Botan and Genkai both know white magic and can tend to your wounds when we return to the temple."

But rather than react to the idea of white magic the way Kurama had thought she would, Rei surprised him. A deep breath sucked into her lungs with a hiss.

"Yeah, I'm…" Rei said, eyes falling to the leaf-strewn ground. "I'm not sure I want to talk to either of them right now."

"Oh?"

"They're kind of the reason I ran out here like a bat out of hell, to be honest. The things they wanted to talk to me about were…"

Rei trailed off. She didn't look angry to Kurama, but the lines on her brow and the clench of her jaw spoke to her discomfort. He considered asking her for more information, but something held him back. They were now on a first-name-basis, it was true, but their friendship was still new. Was it appropriate to pry?

As she had many times before, Rei appeared to read his mind.

"Sorry for being cagey," she said with a smile of slow regret. "I don't want to unload on you without permission." A wry shrug. "Respecting other people's emotional capacity and all that."

"How very considerate of you," Kurama said. "But I don't mind, if you wish to talk about it."

She studied his face for a moment. "You sure?"

Amusement bubbled in his chest. "How long have we known each other?"

"Oh, gosh. Um…" Rei appeared rather taken aback at the query. "If you count the night we met as a day unto itself, then… about four days, maybe. Less than that since today isn't quite over yet, but…"

Kurama nodded. "I am under no illusion that I could become a confidante of yours in so short a time, but you have confided what I assume are personal feelings to me in the past… if you call the wee hours of this morning the 'past,' given they were not so long ago at all." Another nod, this one deeper than the first. "But yes, Rei. I will listen, if you require it of me."

Kurama felt as surprised as Rei looked at the offer. All truth told, he wasn't entirely certain what had compelled him to extend her such an invitation. He did not act as the confidante of many; he had even fewer confidantes of his own. Those to whom he considered himself close often made use of his ears and calm wisdom, but bringing new members into that select group happened to Kurama only rarely. Rei, however, had impressed him with her resilience, resourcefulness and sharp intellect, and she had entrusted him with her personal feelings already. What was the harm in affording her more of the same?

"That's…" She sighed and sagged, hand running over the back of her neck for comfort. "That's honestly a relief."

"Is it?"

"Look, ah." Rei took a deep breath. "Botan and Keiko are great. Especially Keiko. Oh, and Kuwabara, he's also awesome, super nice and stuff. And Yusuke…" She chuckled. "Yusuke's a total bro."

Kurama remembered the way they'd sung karaoke so aggressively in sync the night before. "The two of you do seem to get along,"

"Like a house on fire," Rei agreed with a wide grin. That grin faded when she said, "But I'd be lying if I said I felt close to any of them."

Kurama frowned. From his perspective, Rei seemed close with everyone at the temple — or at the very least, she socialized with them with incredible ease, slotting into their dynamic with hardly a ripple. But perhaps that wasn't what she meant. Kurama had faked many friendships during his human life. His coworkers, for instance, would likely all claim Kurama (or Minamino-san, as they knew him) to be the very portrait of congenial acquaintanceship. He knew full well, though, that every last one of his carefully cultivated smiles served a polite mask he wore as social lubricant. He had never offered a legitimate overture of friendship to a coworker or classmate. His human associates were limited entirely to the mostly-human Yusuke and the entirely human Kuwabara clan, not to mention Keiko. Perhaps it was the same for Rei, then. Perhaps her congenial comportment here at the temple was simply a form of social lubricant.

Not for the first time, Kurama had to ask himself which of Rei's faces — of which he'd seen many — were real, and which were naught but artifice.

The face she wore now certainly appeared real enough to Kurama. She darted sidelong looks in his direction, tongue flicking out to wet her glossed lips. Hands fisted in her shirt, anxiety plain in her dark gaze.

"I hope this isn't too forward of me," she said, "but as far as I'm concerned, you're kind of the closest thing to a friend I've got around here. It's nice to know I can talk to you about things." She hesitated before adding, "I hope that's not weird."

"Rei…" Kurama slowly said. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I confess you've confused me. You get along with everyone so well," he said, noting the way her shoulders sagged. "It is difficult to believe it when you say you don't feel close to any of them."

"Don't get me wrong," she assured him. "I consider them all my friends. And I like them all, genuinely. But…"

"But what?"

Rei curled a lock of hair behind her ear, fussing gently with the strands of her wig. This wig suited her, Kurama thought. A short bob that swept her cheekbones, simple and clean, elegant and silken. It needed a good brushing, after what she'd been through, but still. The chestnut color made her eyes appear all the darker for the contrast of light strands beside irises like the night of a new moon.

"We touched on it last night, when we talked on the roof," she murmured, staring off into the forest without seeing. "About how sometimes you just have to play along because that's just what you have to do? Although that makes me sound manipulative…" Rei shrugged, wincing. "It's something I picked up in foster care, I guess. Making people happy. Getting along with others. Making myself useful so they don't tell me to leave."

Pieces fell into place within the orbit of Kurama's understanding. "Is that why you came up with the role of Keiko's Fixer?" he asked.

But Rei shook her head. "I mean, that comes from a genuine place," she said. "I feel horrible about intruding on Keiko's wedding. I want to help out and make up for the inconvenience I've caused however I can. But…" Rei hung her head, hair obscuring her eyes. "I know I need everyone's help, and that I'm relying on all of your kindness to be here during this important time. So it's important I get along with everyone and be as little of a burden as possible." She paused to choose each word carefully. "Under other circumstances, I might not choose to be as close to some of the people here as I feel I have to be now."

She lapsed into silence. Perfectly manicured nails worried the leaves wrapped around her wrist, fingertips skimming veins and midrib with careful precision. Kurama studied her without speaking. Conversations from the past few days cycled through his head, dissected and analyzed through a fresh lens. Now that she mentioned it, had Kurama ever heard Rei reveal something truly personal in conversation when others were present? She had told them all about her aunt and the situation with her parents, but that had been out of necessity.

Come to think of it, Rei had been quite protective of her past regarding the burlesque troupe; in fact, she had become agitated with them when questioned and uncomfortable when they learned details of her involvement with the troupe that she herself had not divulged. All the details she had chosen to share about herself were superfluous, things you could fact-check with a few well-placed calls. She gave the impression of being quite open, but the things she shared were all surface-level. Did she offer them up to others to distract them from digging deeper? Kurama had employed the same tactic himself (many times, in fact). Confessing a small detail you didn't mind anyone knowing made them feel like you were close, when in reality you held them at arm's length. It prevented them from asking more questions you wished to avoid. A useful tactic, to be sure.

Except that tactic did not manifest in the manner with which Rei treated Kurama. That night in the hotel they'd shared, wherein she'd told him all about her relationship with makeup — makeup she kept in a bag that looked like armor, so chosen to reflect her mindset on the items it contained — had not been calculated. Without prompting she had shared her emotions with him, her innermost thoughts, her insecurities. She'd appeared before him without wearing makeup at all, vulnerable and bare in a way no one else had seen her in what she claimed was years. And what was it Rei had said? Here at the temple, she wanted to prove she was useful to others? Her revealing her stance on makeup had not been in service to that idea. She hadn't been trying to make him feel at ease or make herself useful when she placed false lashes on his arm and commented on her lack of eyebrows. Rei had simply been sharing with him — sharing, that act of vulnerable trust he was so rarely offered and so rarely ever, ever reciprocated.

And she still hadn't asked anyone else to call her by her first name. Only Kurama had that privilege. She did behave differently with him, and he had evidence to prove it.

"Rei," he said, drawing her attention from the woods and back to him. "Do you really think we'd tell you to leave if you weren't useful to us?"

Rei hesitated. Her eyes dropped to the forest floor. Both of her hands wound into the fabric of her shirt, gripping tight.

Then, so softly the words were nearly swallowed by the quiet woods, she said, "It wouldn't be the first time someone said that me."

Kurama held himself still, not daring to move. The tree trunk under his palms grated against his skin. There was something so wounded in Rei's expression — he couldn't stand the look of it, the haunted cast to her eyes that hollowed them out, their usual spark reduced to the faintest of fitful glimmers. He could not help but wonder who had hurt her, to cause such a haunted look. Her aunt, certainly, but who else? How many had chased her away? Who had deemed her without use and cast her off to leave her scarred like that? The night before at the hotel, she had confessed that it had been many years since she'd shared a bed with another person. Had a romantic partner caused the pain Kurama saw reflected so clearly in her gaze? From everything he knew of her, Rei was giving, compassionate, kind, strong willed, sensitive, funny — all desirable traits. But someone had rejected her, perhaps more than once, in spite of all she had to offer. That was something Kurama simply did not understand. Surely it could not have been because of her hair alone, could it?

He thought of the makeup bag. Felt the strands of his hair — so lovely, so long — drift against his neck as a breeze brushed through them. Thought of what Rei had told him about makeup serving as her armor, because she was damaged in the eyes of the world.

Rei didn't look damaged to him. The air smelled of green and growing things, sunlight and wind, and the faint scent of her perfume wafting on the air. She stared off into the trees, features tranquil despite their sadness, and propped her chin on one hand. Her almond eyes, full lips, high cheekbones... Yusuke had just been asking Kurama what he thought of Rei's features, and although Kurama had not had time to voice an opinion in the moment, he was certain now of what he thought of her. Rei was attractive — no, she was lovely. He'd suspected as much, given the way others had looked at her in the club and at the burlesque show, but today had confirmed it for him.

She had been especially lovely when she danced by herself, alone with naught but her own joy. Even in the dark, the enraptured smile on her face as she leaped and spun had illuminated the room like the light of a burning star. Kurama wanted to see that look on her face again, not her sadness.

Rei shifted, hand dropping from her chin. "I'm under no illusions either, by the way."

Kurama pulled himself free of his musings. "Hm?"

"Me confiding in you," Rei explained, conversationally and with no trace of accusation or resentment. "I know it's a one-way street."

Kurama frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You told me about your identity, how you came to be human," she said with that same easy gait, "but everyone knows about that. You said you only told me so I didn't hear it from somebody else. You haven't shared anything personal with me that I couldn't have heard from someone else." The irony of this, given Rei's own behavior, was not lost on Kurama, but Rei did not seem bothered by his reticence because she smiled and continued without pause. "And that's OK. I recognize that while I think of you as my friend, you might not feel the same way about me." Rei winked, that habit that came as naturally to her as breathing. "Just didn't want you to feel pressured into becoming my BFF, is all."

"I didn't feel pressured," Kurama found himself saying.

"That's good." Rei hummed, pleased. "Just… your offer to listen was kind. I hope I'm not imposing."

"No. You aren't. I…" He meant his next words, too. "I also think of you as a friend, Rei."

Just like that, the hollowness in her eyes filled up with pleasure, their light returning like kindling struck by a bright spark. Yes — she was prettiest like this, Kurama thought. A shame to whoever made her feel anything but happy.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm glad."

A quiet moment followed. Rei appeared pleased, smiling as she gazed off into the woods and breathed deeply of the clear mountain air. Gratified though Kurama felt at the change in her demeanor, a murmur of disquiet stole through him. He hadn't been speaking for her comfort alone: he'd meant all that he said, and with more sincerity than he'd expected. He did indeed think of her as a friend. They had much in common, after all. More than even Rei knew.

"I suppose it's no wonder we get along," Kurama said. "I feel much the same way as you do."

Rei looked toward him, one brow rising. "Oh?"

"I value everyone in this social group for their various qualities, but some of them are… talkative."

She huffed, laughing under her breath. "Blabbermouth city, more like it."

"Yes." He couldn't help but think of Yusuke that afternoon, prying into Kurama's opinions regarding Rei; no doubt Yusuke would discuss that conversation with Keiko, who would in turn tell Botan, and then the cat was out of the proverbial bag. Rei, on the other hand... "I get the distinct impression that you would treat anything I say to you with discretion, would I were to ask."

"That's right. I'm a good secret-keeper." But her pride faded when she rubbed her temples. "Ugh."

"What is it?"

"The whole reason I'm out here," she said, face hidden behind her hand. "I just learned a huge secret about my goddamn aunt and I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do about it."

"Right." The reason she'd triggered his pitcher plants. "Botan and Genkai chased you out here, you said."

"Yeah. So long story short…"

Rei told him what she'd learned with clipped, almost clinical precision: Her aunt only died two years ago, not many years prior as Rei had been led to believe for the past decade. The last 18 years of abandonment were apparently some sort of protection attempt Rei did not fully understand and certainly had not asked for. Her fists clenched as she told Kurama about the lifespan-tracking lantern Botan had investigated on Rei's unwitting behalf, but she managed to keep emotion out of her retelling — until she reached the point where the dispensation of facts gave way to merely recollecting the things Genkai had said to her about her aunt. Rei's detached speech vanished, replaced instead by hot anger and agitated gesticulation.

"Petty. Genkai called me petty!" Rei fumed. "But what does she expect? How am I supposed to put aside 18 years of abandonment issues in the span of a single conversation? They looked at me like I was being completely unreasonable, like my emotions were totally unjustified. It's like they forgot I was literally abandoned as a child by the one person left in my life who was supposed to care about me, and they think I'm just going to get over than in ten minutes?"

Kurama winced. Even he, logical as he was, recognized the truth of what she was saying. Her scars ran deep. She would need time to adjust, and any suggestions that she should just 'get over it' and turn on an emotional dime were both unrealistic and, frankly, cruel. Humans were creatures who felt deeply, he'd learned in his time among them. Even the most emotionless among them would need time to adjust after so many years.

Rei was not finished. "As for Genkai and Botan, well, telling someone to get over something is much easier said than done when you have no idea what it feels like to be in their shoes." She tossed her hands skyward, painted nails glittering. "Really, they think I'm the unreasonable one? How can they really expect half an hour of new, impersonal information to undo 18 entire years of my lived experience?"

"Genkai is a pragmatist, I'm afraid," said Kurama. When Rei frowned, he held up a hand. "This isn't an excuse for her behavior; it's merely an explanation. It's in her character to tell you to just get over something. But I agree with you that doing such a thing in so short a time would be unrealistic. Especially for you."

"Because I'm dramatic AF?" she asked plaintively.

Kurama's lips quirked. "Because you're dramatic AF, yes."

Rei wasn't offended by that in the least, throwing her hands skyward again. "Right! Like, has she met me? What's she expect me to do, just go, 'Oh sorry auntie, I forgive you, let's just pretend the last two decades never happened?' Please." Her hands came down with a slap of palm on thigh, anger hot enough that she must not have felt the pain in her injured hand at that sharp strike. Eyes blazing with a ferocity that would rival any demon's, Rei said: "I am entitled to my anger. I am entitled to my feelings of betrayal. There were a thousand ways my aunt could have done what she did that would've made me a lot less fucked up as a person, but did she think about that? No. No, she didn't. And now I've gotta live with the consequences of her actions."

Kurama eyed her over. "You don't seem particularly fucked up to me." In fact, Rei was one of the few humans he'd met who seemed utterly sure of themselves and their identity, insecurities and all.

But she just rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Kurama. The fucked-up-ness runs deep. I'm one entire onion of trauma."

"An onion of — ?"

"I mean I've got layers," she delivered with prim precision. "Layers of trauma, specifically."

Kurama laughed; he couldn't help it. Rei gave a satisfied grin at his reaction, though, which told him humor had been her intention all along and he had not overstepped. The fact that she could treat her own trauma with levity was oddly endearing. This was a serious matter, but she did not take herself too seriously at all. A valuable trait when making personal decisions, the steadfast grip she had on her emotions regarding her aunt notwithstanding.

Her mood soon darkened, though, and she gazed out into the woods in heavy silence. Humor could not lighten the weight of startling information she'd just learned. His own mood darkened to match hers soon enough, if not for reasons Rei would be able to guess, because those reasons had very little to do with Rei at all. No — Kurama's mood had soured for another reason entirely.

Rei had, completely unwittingly, just provided Kurama a case study for one of his worst fears. Watching her had been like seeing one of his own predictions come true, the seer providing Kurama a glimpse of his own future.

"May I offer you some perspective?" he said.

Black eyes blazed. "Don't you dare tell me you empathize with my aunt."

"Then I won't do that."

"Oh my god." Her jaw dropped. "You do empathize with her."

"In a sense. But please note that I agree with you, not her, nor do I agree with Genkai and Botan," he was quick to assure her. "I do not condone what your aunt did to you, and I concur that you are entitled to your emotions. May I explain?"

She paused before declaring in magnanimous tones: "I'll allow it. But you're on thin ice. Continue."

He nodded. "I understand your aunt, because I too am keeping a secret from family. One that could irrevocably damage our relationship would I were to reveal it to them."

Rei frowned. "I don't follow."

"My mother," Kurama said. "She does not know what I am."

"Oh." She thought about it; a light-bulb went off. "Oh!" But just as quickly that light of understanding died, confusion taking its place as she shook her head. "Nope, I don't get it. Explain."

She was not the first human to need the significance of him having human parents to be explained in detail. Kurama suppressed a smile, thinking of his first meeting with Yusuke. "Demons have mothers?" Yusuke had asked while wearing the exact same expression adorning Rei's pretty face. They really were alike in some ways. Kurama thought incredibly highly of Yusuke; no wonder he'd quickly attuned himself to Rei, as well.

"As you may recall, I was born a demon," he told her. "Upon my death, I traveled to Ningenkai and entered an unborn embryo before it acquired a proper soul. Thus began my human life. But to be reborn in that human body meant — "

A true flashbulb of recognition lit her eyes. She was too smart not to put it together, saying: "You have a mom. A literal human mom."

"Yes."

"And she has no idea she raised…?"

He smiled tightly. "No."

"Wow." Rei studied him in silence, lips a thin line of consternation. "But… she has to know, right?" she said, tone bordering on desperate — on disbelieving. "There's no way she doesn't know, somewhere deep down."

"She senses that I'm… different." Kurama chose each word with care. "She is painfully aware that I do not live a typical human life."

"What do you mean?"

"Among other things, I avoid relationships, both platonic and romantic," he said, voice holding steady and flat. "She doesn't know why I avoid romance, especially, and it pains her. The wedding reminded her of this." The way she'd questioned him over the phone just that afternoon, asking about eligible women at the wedding, replayed in his head. "It preoccupies her thoughts, I suspect."

Rei considered that a moment. Then: "You don't want demons endangering your human paramours, I'm guessing."

"Precisely." Once again, Kurama found himself impressed at Rei's quick read of the situation. "But her awareness of my differences began much earlier than the start of my dating life. Even when I was an infant, my mother knew I was not like other human children, and it affected her greatly."

Kurama told Rei, slowly, about his mother's illness. About Shiori's broken spirit, tarnished by the knowledge that her own son did not need her, and in fact looked at her with utter disdain. About how his impact on her mental state damaged her physical health, broken psyche breaking down her immune system until she fell gravely ill. And then he told her about the mirror. About his mad rush to save her. About Yusuke stepping in and saving his life, to spare Kurama's mother from the doom of a broken heart. More freely he spoke of his adventures at Yusuke's side and his eventual decision to put aside his demonic past and live entirely as a human for the rest of his natural life.

He told her all of this for context, of course, so she would not feel lost in his attempts to relate to her. It wasn't because her own openness had encouraged his, nor because her ready willingness to share had made him feel... special, in a sense. Chosen, out of all the others, to hear her true thoughts when the others received them piecemeal. No, that couldn't be it. And it certainly wasn't because her vulnerability made him feel safe enough to get the phone call he'd shared with his mother off of his chest, seeking the opinion of a person whose perspective he'd somehow come to admire in only four short days. No, he told himself. He was not being open for his own benefit. He was being open for hers, and hers alone.

He refused to think about it more closely than that, however, for fear of recognizing the deception he sensed lurking below every last one of his rationalizations.

Unaware of the internal battle taking place below the waters of his monologue, Rei listened in silence. She wrapped her arms around her long legs and gathered them to her chest, holding them in place with chin resting on her bent knees. Her fathomless eyes swam with emotions, attention fixed unerringly on Kurama's every word. Rei was a good listener; Kurama had guessed as much, but to see her so quiet and so attentive for so long had the curious effect of putting him at ease. Indeed, they had not known one another for very long, but it was clear she nevertheless cared for him — or at least for this conversation — to some degree.

"Have you ever considered telling her?" she asked when he was through. "Maybe someday, eventually...?"

"Never." Kurama held his head high. "And I never will."

"Can I ask why?"

"I love my mother, as any son would love his mother,m" he said. "I do not wish to hurt her. The time to tell her has long since passed. The wound of my childhood runs deep. Reopening that scar would cause nothing but pain — much the way reopening the scars of the past hurt you today."

"But… but she's your mother," Rei said, clearly struggling with the concepts as he'd put them forth. "She loves you."

"Yes. She does love her son," Kurama said. "But would she consider a demon her own flesh and blood?"

Rei's mouth opened — most likely to voice the same knee-jerk response he'd received from Yusuke so many times, the instant protest that of course Shiori would still consider him her son if she knew the truth. That of course she would love Kurama no matter the origin of his soul. Others (namely Yusuke) had done as much in the past many, many times. But Rei was singular unto herself, and she knew full well that no matter how much someone else assured you of something, it made no difference if you yourself did not believe it. She knew better than to offer platitudes and empty words when she did not walk through the world in his shoes. As such, she soon closed her mouth without uttering a word. With a sigh she passed her hand through her wig, combing at the strands absently as her deep eyes roved the woods over Kurama's shoulder.

"I don't know your mother personally, so I can't say how she'd feel," she admitted, clearly disliking her own (sound, by his measure) logic. Rei shook her head, regret clouding her features. "I'm sure listening to me talk about my aunt only confirms what you think would happen, huh?"

"You have served as a convenient case study, I must confess," said Kurama. "A long-held truth was just confessed to you, but you are only in pain as a result. Any truth your aunt may give you after so many years is too little, too late. It is possible that even with time, you may never adjust to the truth and forgive her." He smiled, but bitterly. "That is why I condemn your aunt's actions, in the end. They mirror my own, and I will be the first to admit I have made mistakes with family."

In silence, the pair sat, together but separated by the gulf of their own thoughts. It was interesting, the way they occupy opposite sides of a similar situation — Kurama the deceiver, Rei the one who has been deceived. Each could learn from the other. He wondered what she had taken from his tale. He knew he had gleaned much from hers.

For a time, neither of them spoke. Eventually Rei stirred, legs uncurling until her toes swept the glade's tall grass.

"The thing is, in the end, our situations are actually pretty different," she said. "You can still have a relationship with your mom. You can still make things right, even if you can't tell her the whole truth. But me…"

Rei hesitated. He knew what she meant, even if she did not say it. Her aunt was long gone; for Rei, there could be no reconciliation. Rei was alone in a way Kurama was not — and the look of loss on her face spoke of heartbreak immeasurable. She aimed this look at the grass under her feet, fingers stroking the leaves that bound her wounded hand, eyes unseeing. And even though it was not his place, Kurama felt his emotions stir at the sight of that hollow ache.

"Rei," said Kurama. "Look at me."

Her head jerked up, inkspill eyes finding his. "Yes?"

"I have watched you adjust time and again to new information," he said in simple, direct speech. "From the existence of demons to the truth of your powers to the sight of that pitcher plant, you have consistently impressed me with your ability to take the chaos of the world in stride. You have met the world head-on and risen to its challenges many times. And you can do it again now."

Her eyes softened. "Kurama…"

"Survival often requires adaptation. And change…" He couldn't help but smile, thinking of Shiori. "Change can be a wonderful thing."

And Rei was smiling, too. "You speak from experience, huh, Red?"

"I do."

"You know…" She looked at him with head cocked to one side, gaze interested, smile stealing wider across her mouth. "I was going to ask you earlier, if you regretted your human life. You looked sad when you were talking about your mom. But now…"

"I would not trade my human life for anything," he said — and of all the things he'd said to her, he meant that one the most.

And Rei seemed to know it, too. "Yeah. That's what I thought," she said. Her face dropped, a flush stealing across her cheeks. "Hey Kurama?"

"Yes, Rei?" he said.

"Thanks. For the pep-talk." She smiled. "It helped."

"You're welcome," he told her... and to his surprise, he meant that, too.


They walked back to the temple in silence, following Rei's trail through the woods until they came upon a cardboard box lying abandoned in the shade of a ginko tree. Rei hefted it to her hip with a sigh and a pronounced grimace.

"Took this back from Botan and Genkai," she said, tilting the box so he could see the papers, books and objects lying in its heart — chief among the bronze mirror of Queen Himiko, which reflected a pair of eyes that did not quite match Rei's own. "They'd been rummaging while I was gone, but this is something I need to face on my own."

"I understand." A whiff of aroma from the box curled into the air. "Is that jasmine?"

"My aunt's perfume." Rei's expression darkened. "It clings to her things even now."

"Do you dislike the scent?"

"No," she admitted after a brief hesitation. "But I don't like that it reminds me of what I lost."

Kurama did not remark upon that. He had no idea what to say, and he sensed nothing he could think of would make Rei feel any better. Her emotions were her own.

They returned to the temple in silence. By then the sun had passed its zenith, mid-afternoon shadows stretching long from their walking feet. Even before they reached the tori arch at the temple's entrance, Kurama's sharp ears picked up the sounds of Keiko and Botan fussing with wedding decor, the pair chatting while they worked. Rei winced when her ears eventually picked them out over the sounds of the forest. No sooner had they passed through the arch than did Botan spot them and stand, rising from a crouch beside Keiko across the courtyard. She made a beeline for them, and at his side, Kurama felt Rei stiffen.

"Go." Kurama stepped into Botan's path. "I'll stall her."

Rei whispered a relieved "thank you" before darting off, long legs carrying her with fluid grace toward the garden on the courtyard's eastern edge. She shot a relieved smile over her shoulder before disappearing inside it, but Kurama had no time to return the look. Botan tried to go after Rei, diverting her path to give chase, but Kurama stepped between them before she could follow.

"Let her go, Botan."

Magenta eyes blazed. "But—!"

"No." Kurama spoke firmly, not budging an inch. "She's had a long day. Give her time."

"But that's the problem, Kurama!" Botan insisted. "She's wasted so much time feeling glum about her aunt already, so many years lost to sadness and anger! She would be much happier if she just — "

"What right do you have to tell her how to be happy, Botan?"

The cold tenor to his voice stopped her in her tracks. In surprise Botan blinked up at him, the blue flag of her hair curling around her shoulders like uncertain gossamer.

"I understand that Yamato — " (he used her last name very much on purpose) " — has integrated herself into our group quite easily, but that does not mean we have a right to interfere in her affairs. We cannot forget that we are still strangers to her."

"We aren't strangers!" Botan protested.

"We've only known her for four days," Kurama intoned, watching Botan's shoulders sag in forlorn recognition of that fact. "How do you imagine it must feel for strangers to pry into her history like this? How do you imagine it must feel for her to be told by complete strangers that her emotions are invalid?"

"They aren't invalid." Botan kicked at the flagstones with one uneager foot. "Her emotions are just outdated, that's all. She would be better off if she just let them go, and — "

"Kurama is right, Botan. We really should back off."

Keiko had appeared at Kurama's elbow, her earlier task lying abandoned where Botan had left it in her mad dash to pursue Rei. She nodded at Kurama once, apparently here to provide backup. A surge of appreciation for Keiko lanced through him. Truly, out of anyone Yusuke could have chosen as his bride, he had chosen well.

"Botan filled me in about Yamato's aunt," she said, gaze alternating between Kurama and Botan. "Yamato is really friendly with us, but we still don't know her very well. It isn't right for us to pry. And 18 years is a long time for her to feel something. She can't let go of 18 years of emotions in a single afternoon just because a group of complete strangers told her she should. We have no right to tell her how to feel about any of this."

"And besides," Kurama said with bone-dry intonation. "Demanding anything of her isn't fair."

Keiko frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's at our mercy, in many ways. She needs our help, our protection." He thought of the look she'd worn in the woods when she spoke of making herself useful — of that quiet desperation tinged with fear. "Any demand we make of her, she must feel pressured to comply. She can't speak plainly for fear of our rejection."

"I…" Botan's face fell in the wake of hopeless realization. "I didn't think of it like that."

"And neither did I."

They all turned. Genkai stood some meters away on the porch of the temple. A kiseru sat clenched between her teeth, smoke curling into the warm air. She looked as grouchy as ever as she surveyed them, gaze eventually turning toward the garden into which Rei had earlier absconded.

"I'm losing my touch in my old age," the elderly psychic grumbled. To Kurama she said, "I overheard everything, so no need to repeat yourself. I interfered in her affairs, and while I stand by what I did, you are not wrong: I should've done it on her terms. In the end, this is Yamato's fight, not ours. I'll let her lead from now on." She shrugged and took a long puff on her pipe, and while she did not look in the least bit sorry, Kurama saw the sincerity in the hard cast of her wizened fast — and then a sly smile curled her mouth. "And besides. I told her what she needed to hear. What's done is done. What she chooses to do next is up to her."

Botan didn't seem nearly as pleased by their actions in retrospect. "Oh, I feel sick," she lamented, peering over Kurama's shoulder in the direction Rei had gone. "I really should go apologize for meddling. Forcing her into things under the circumstances isn't right, but if she wants help, I will gladly give it." A resolute nod made her blue hair flutter. "I will just have to ask first next time."

Kurama smiled. Botan meant well, and she already cared about Rei enough to want to help her, but Rei was like him more than she was like Botan. Rei needed time to process and analyze new information before her opinion could shift, but once it did, her emotions were sure to follow. Now if only Botan, and other well-meaning people who did not understand Rei, would give her the time and space she needed to do just that —

Three sharp bursts of energy, bright electric blue and pulsing with alarm, lanced through Kurama's awareness, the triplet accompanied by another energy source that rippled and churned with an unsettling, nearly oceanic rhythm. His head whipped northward as Botan and Genkai's did the same, the three spiritually aware people in the courtyard all reacting to Yusuke's signal. From a distance Kurama felt Kuwabara give a signal of recognition before his energy moved in the direction of Yusuke's power. Without a word, Kurama and Genkai broke into a run to head for Yusuke, too.

"Uh-oh," he heard Keiko call from behind him, voice rife with annoyance. "I know that look. What's wrong now? My wedding venue about to get Spirit Gunned off the map?"

"Oh, it's nothing, I'm sure!" Botan told her as Kurama rounded a corner. "Yusuke just called for everyone. This way, this way…"

Kurama left them behind in short order, Genkai leading the way with shocking speed through the temple and out into another courtyard closer to the temple's heart. Kuwabara and Yusuke awaited them in the middle of the large training arena, ground formed of packed dirt, space ringed by wooden practice dummies and stretches of red-painted porch. As Kurama settled in at Yusuke's side, one of the paper doors behind said porch rattled open. Rei thrust her head out with a frown.

"What in the hell was that?" she asked. "Something lit up like a Christmas tree!"

"Wait." Yusuke did a surprised double-take. "You felt that?"

"Hard not to," said Rei. "Felt like getting hit by lightning, to be honest." Her all-black eyes jerked upward, toward the empty sky above the practice ground. "Wait. What the heck is — ?"

It should not have surprised Kurama that she could sense it, too, even before the portal became visible to the naked eye. He'd been able to sense it from the start; it was the source of the undulating energy swirling alongside Yusuke's earlier warning bursts, after all, and he knew what it signaled. He'd traveled through a portal between worlds many times over the years. They all possessed the same pattern of energy that felt, to Kurama, like the tides of an immense sea. This one swirled maelstrom-quick as it bloomed in the air a few meters overhead, a mass of whirling darkness that nearly hurt to look it. The acrid, metallic scent of the Makai's humid air leached from the heart of the portal. Kurama tensed at the aroma. They hadn't been forewarned of any visitors from the Makai stopping by today. Could one of Rei's pursuers be — ?

He relaxed when a familiar shock of brilliant red hair thrust through the portal's core. Brilliant blue eyes and twitching ears followed as the demon flew into the open air, a current of wind accompanying him as the demon spun and cavorted against the bright blue sky.

"Hey there, Urameshi!" said Jin the Windmaster — and behind him, more of Yusuke's friends from the Makai soon followed. "Congrats on your big day!"


END CHAPTER, THIS IS A NOTE NOW

this fucking text editor won't let me bold or italicize ANYTHING and it's pissing me off because that means this note and the chapter title can't look visually distinct from the rest of the chapter... all my italics within the chapter for emphasis can't be kept... at least i figured out line breaks tho?

been away a while, sorry about that… life tried to eat me like a demon pitcher plant

hope you enjoyed this bonding exercise! the other demons are here to spice things up and it should be pretty fuuuuun...

i recently wrote a kurama smutfic for the kurama degenerates over on AO3, so go check that out if you want... i think it turned out good. it's called "The Hunt" and uhhhh please read the tags LMAO

ok that's all from me, gonna update sooner next time, don't want to go on another long hiatus but couldn't really help it... these people are gorgeous for leaving comments on the last chapter btw... Damaged Forest Spirit, Katsip12, Lady Skynet, Sorlian, guest, cruelzy, Fae Lycan, cezarina and Chubby Elf are my personal heroes because rereading their comments is what got me out of my funk and writing again

ok ok, see you next time, thanks for reading, byyeeeee