Disclaimer: I have three fickle, fickle friends. And would you believe, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. (Well, by the time this is finished, it certainly won't be, but today, the day I'm beginning it, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Prepare for a slew of Valentine's themed fics.) Not that the two are related, but…well, I'm a little frustrated.

Edit: See there, the note above? I wrote it when I began this chapter and left it in to yell at myself. I'm sorry this took forever and a day, but life has been a lot harder this year than I'd anticipated.

Fall

Remember yesterday
And think about tomorrow
But you have to live today
Oh, lonely yesterday
Don't leave me with the sorrow
Cause I have to live today

Hammerfall, "Remember Yesterday"

Chapter Eleven: Systematic Death Song

If one were to ask Hiei how he reacted to his unprecedented outburst, he would have replied "With quiet, musing dignity," or something of the sort.

If one were to ask Kurama the very same question, he would have replied "Sulking all along the rest of the caves and I could swear he tried to give me the slip a few times," or something similar.

And it wasn't even as though Kurama had let him brood over the thing.

"Did you see me smiling?" he asked at one point. Hiei frowned magnificently and nodded once, shortly, his eyes narrowed and pointedly looking The Other Way. Kurama felt himself beginning to grin again at this shame (he called it shame, whether Hiei did or not) but hid it admirably, remaining completely straight faced. He wondered briefly if that was another sign of mental instability.

Neither spoke for a few moments after this, until Hiei said, still without looking at Kurama:

"Why did you do it?"

Kurama looked pleasantly confused at the question, though Hiei didn't see. "Do what?" Kurama asked, toying with his partner and loving every moment of it.

Hiei sighed meditatively, trying to calm his temper. "Why did you smile like that?" he asked woodenly. Kurama could no longer contain his grin, but it didn't really matter, as Hiei staunchly refused to turn his head from the fascinating scenery.

"Well, only because I knew it all along," he explained flippantly, which he knew would irritate Hiei to some great end (and indeed it did). "You see, I found it funny that you should tell me in such a fashion," he elaborated, looking at the back of his friend's head. "Knowing it for some time, I must admit I envisioned how you would express your love at first, and your accidentally blurting it out while simultaneously expressing your irritation with me was not one of my imagined scenarios."

"Well, that makes it even funnier," Hiei said scathingly. Kurama softened his smile and patted the top of Hiei's head.

"You are quite cute," Kurama said fondly. Hiei shrugged him off, finally turning his head to glare. He wished to end the conversation, to silence the fox, but the game had begun and the fox would not be stopped until it was completed.

Kurama smiled warmly, which annoyed Hiei some (clearly the intent). "Has anyone ever told you that before?" he asked in a sweet, paternal tone that made Hiei shiver as he shook his head.

"Not unless it was a prelude to attempted rape," he muttered icily. "Certainly not; I think anyone who might have said it would know better."

The statement was punctuated by two different laughs, one harsh and short and the other soft and light. Kurama was doing a perfect job throwing Hiei off balance and they both knew it, which did nothing to stop it from happening.

"This is the second-to-final cave," Hiei said, pointing to a large hole in the ground. "Either she's in here, or she's in that one down the road there, or we've been given shoddy information and she's not around here at all."

Kurama nodded his agreement. "Oh, I do hope that's not the case," he said with a small frown. "I'd hate to go running all over this land again, simply to find her."

Hiei honored that complaint with a small grunt and eased himself down into the fissure, which turned out to be more shallow than he had anticipated. He landed on his backside, entirely undignified, and stood, dusting off his cloak with obvious indignation. To his mild amusement, Kurama also misjudged the depth of the drop and landed in a similar fashion, but seemed less mortified to the point of indifference, which was almost more annoying. Muttering quietly, Hiei stalked off down the only apparent pathway, into the overbearing darkness.

Kurama followed.


"So, see that? Right there. See?"

Yûsuke cocked his head and squinted. "Sort of, I think. Is it pink? Or—no, wait, that's not what I mean. Is it black? I mean—hey, wait a minute…"

Kuwabara smirked. "Yeah, well. That's a good sign, really it is. I see it changing, too. Can you tell which is which?"

"Well, Kurama's is the pink, right? Then Hiei's is the black?"

"That was a trick question. Right, of course."

Yûsuke glowered. " 'Of course,' he says. Well, fine, whatever. Can we get going now?"

"I guess this is the best we're going to get. It might be easier to track them once we get there, anyway." Kuwabara nodded. "What do you say, Koenma?"

The demigod shrugged. "It's your funeral."

"So not funny," Yûsuke said as he started for the door. Koenma giggled.

"If you want," he said, raising his hand to attract their attention, "I can get you a portal to the field you were talking about. It might take a few minutes, but I'm sure it would be faster than walking."

Yûsuke and Kuwabara exchanged a glance and conferred for a moment, turning their backs to Koenma as they whispered.

"It probably would be faster," Kuwabara said. Yûsuke nodded, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure it would, but we'd be taking up one of Koenma's offers. Do we really want to do that?"

"Do we really want to find Kurama and Hiei?"

"Point taken."

The two turned back to Koenma, both sporting supremely dark grins. Koenma raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair.

"Come to a conclusion, have you?"

"Well, we're not giving them back to you when we find them," Yûsuke said his grin widening.

"We're not even sure we'll tell you when we find them," Kuwabara added, his expression matching Yûsuke's.

Koenma raised his other eyebrow. "Just find them, and then we'll work out what to do from there."

Both boys faltered a bit at that. "O…kay, I guess."

Koenma grinned smugly. "All right then. Come this way, gentlemen. Your portal awaits."


Hiei pressed his hands against the wall and walked as quietly as he could manage. Kurama slunk along behind him with all his usual grace and stealth—Hiei frowned. Kurama was getting bipolar, which was even worse than his frustrating mindlessness. The "normal" periods (the ones when he was most like himself, of course) were like a blissful reprieve from everything facing the two of them at Miru's hands, but the rest of the time was hell. No pun intended, he amended hastily, glancing out the gaping hole behind him into the dull terrain.

Suddenly, then, Kurama was in front of him. He refrained from jerking back in surprise, but his disdain was clearly expressed on his face. They were supposed to be working together, which meant not surprising one another. Of course, if he mentioned that, Kurama would accuse him of not paying attention, which was true.

"Do you sense anything?" Hiei asked roughly, not acknowledging Kurama's presence. Maybe Kurama would see through his gruffness to insecurity, but maybe not. It was impossible to know for sure.

"I don't think so," Kurama said in a balancing, offhanded way. "Then, I don't think I would trust my own instincts right now, so don't make any decisions based on what I sense."

"Don't worry," Hiei muttered. He hadn't really cared whether Kurama sensed anything or not. Kurama smiled lightly, also not caring.

They continued on in silence for a time until Hiei felt his knees brushing uncomfortably against something he certainly could not see. His brow furrowed in concentration and confusion, he brushed his fingers lightly against the offending spot and found that, while it appeared to be nothing but empty space, it felt like a solid surface of porcelain or glazed plaster. Kurama turned slightly to see what had stopped his companion, but did not draw any nearer to inspect the invisible solid whatever.

"Porcelain?" Hiei asked, still not looking over to the fox. Kurama shrugged, unnoticed. Hiei frowned, looking up and down the empty space. "Is there any reason she would be keeping porcelain?"

"I can't think of one, but she's been full of surprises, hasn't she?"

"I suppose, but this is so odd…"

There seemed to be nothing on the porcelain, either, which made it even more confusing. Perhaps in some child's playhouse, an invisible shelf could hold ghastly eyes and severed heads to frighten his friends, but here it meant nothing. And how was it kept invisible? How was it even made invisible at all? What did it all mean, and why did it matter so much?

Hiei punched the surface and was startled to find it completely unyielding, his fist reddening even at the brief contact.

"What in the world…"

Kurama was on his other side then, touching the surface hesitantly. "Feels cold," he observed sincerely, his eyes darting down to Hiei's red knuckles with mild concern. The other glowered, covering his wound by carefully turning his body, only slightly, away and towards the wall. Both ran their fingers across the invisible surface, seeking its reason for being and finding little.

Aggravated and momentarily thinking in a haze of anger, Hiei punched the wall again, regretting the move even before his fist hit the solid surface—

"Hiei—!"

—and jolting in surprise when he easily shattered it to pieces.

"What—"

Kurama was at his side in an instant, tending to the wound even though it was already healing at an alarming speed. Hiei shook his hand away, observing the injury and subsequent repair. Not bad, definitely not deterring or permanently harmful. He touched the spot he had shattered with a strange delicacy, fondling the bleeding shards. The shelf itself was still invisible, but the blood was certainly not. Hiei touched it delicately, softly, admiringly. The sharp edge threatened to bite into him again.

"But what is it for?" he asked in a whisper, to himself. Kurama drew nearer and placed his hand on Hiei's shoulder.

"Do you suppose," Kurama asked quietly, conspiratorially, "that there is something invisible on top of the invisible shelf? Something we are supposed to find because we are not supposed to find it?"

Hiei frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that Miru does not wish it to be found by anyone but us, and she does not think it will be because no one else would be so suspicious or paranoid as to search."

A soft grunt. "What I want to know is why some of it is made of some pliable stuff and some of it isn't," Hiei said, touching the surface and two separate places and trying to feel a difference. Both were cold. Both felt frozen. Both felt as though they might burn.

"Fire and ice?" he said to himself, moving his fingers as though playing a piano scale. Kurama followed along in his fingerprints, replicating the motions perfectly.

"So cold they might burn," Kurama said, also to himself, though Hiei heard and knew he was intended to. Hiei nodded, not thinking of his actions.

Then suddenly they did burn, but not either's skin—musical notes were burned seemingly in midair, imprinting upon the cold surface. Hiei did not know how to play the piano and could not read them, but Kurama, who had studied musical theory in secondary school, recognized the pattern and began to hum along. As he did so, the notes began to play themselves; curiously, Hiei did nothing to interfere.

The piece was a classical one, soft and lilting and, Hiei realized with a start, accurately described as romantic. It was a song of mourning, he thought, and quite an odd one at that; he might recognize parts of it, but he didn't know from where.

"Claire de Lune," Kurama said dreamily, not so much to Hiei as to himself. The fire demon nodded; he didn't recognize the name, but he was beginning to recognize the piece. It had to mean something, that was certain; Miru probably wasn't well enough versed in humans' music to choose the piece for its sound, so the trick had to be in the name. Claire de lune. What language was that? A human one, of course. Italian? French? Italian didn't have a word "claire," he didn't think, so it must be French. "Lune" was "moon," obviously, and "claire" was probably "clear" or "clarity."

"Clarity of the moon"? "Clear moon"? Surely he was correct in his translation, but what the hell was that supposed to mean? What did a clear moon have to do with anything?

He looked up at Kurama, who did not appear to be giving the matter any thought.

Finally, he ventured to speak. "Do you understand?" he asked softly. Kurama looked down at him with soft, dim eyes and a sad, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry."


Kuwabara and Yûsuke walked in silence for much of the way to the portal—it was a ways, as Koenma claimed that there was no feasible way to set one up nearer to his office (though neither boy really believed that)—but when they reached what Koenma informed them was the last hallways, both burst out at once:

"I'm going first."

Without even a breath in between phrases, both continued with equal fervor:

"No way, I am!"

As the pair continued bickering like an old married couple (with more than one phrase repeated at the same time by both boys), Koenma watched with quiet amusement. It wasn't terribly often that they argued with one another in such a stupid fashion; usually their complaints were directed at him by way of tag teaming. Still, he reminded himself sternly after awhile, there were more pressing matters at hand; namely the portal that would just as soon close as wait for the pair of them to finish screaming.

"They were my friends first—"

"Oh, please! Hiei wanted to flash fry you the first time you met!"

"Boys."

Bicker, bicker. Koenma rolled his eyes.

"Well he wasn't exactly eager to make your acquaintance!"

"At least he didn't try to kill me!"

"Boys!"

"Maybe, but I—"

"Boys!"

Both young men stopped arguing and looked up, both still seething. Koenma glowered.

"Will you be leaving today, perhaps?"

Exchanging a mildly bewildered look, the boys smiled awkwardly and nodded.

"Now one of you please step through the portal to be followed immediately by the other, so it does not matter who is first." Koenma gestured to the portal vaguely and watched the boys glower at one another. "Right now," he insisted, stamping his foot. Kuwabara and Yûsuke stalked towards the portal, shoving one another. Finally reaching it, they tripped into the darkness in such a way that while Yûsuke's head preceded Kuwabara's, the taller man's leg matched him. They would argue about it later, of course, but the rest is unimportant.

Koenma wrung his hands as they disappeared. "Damn… I wonder the consequences this will have on the rest of the world… Potentially disastrous, I'm sure. Should one of them do something to offend a strong demon; they haven't fought in years! And now it's too late to call them back—what was I thinking?"

The demigod fretted busily as he walked back to his office, his head in his hands. Then he perked up randomly, shrugging.

"Well! Time for squid!"


"Shall I take that as a 'no'?"

Though his tone held no bitterness, Hiei sensed that Kurama was displeased. Had he done something wrong? Was he reacting incorrectly? He hoped it was not so, but anything was possible. The fox continued his sad smile and looked on the verge of tears. Hiei nearly reached up to stem them, touching Kurama's cheek, before he realized that no tears had fallen.

The sad smile was almost frightening, and Hiei wished for it to go away. Even if it was not a thing to be scared of, it was somehow wrong, and there had been enough of that. More than enough. Hiei frowned sourly, but it was out of nerves rather than anger. Kurama hummed along to the clear moon.

"Help me understand."

"But I don't know what it means."

"That doesn't matter."

Kurama looked at Hiei with the same dulled eyes, but his expression was turned in a confused fashion, as might be expected. Hiei noted the lack of emotion and presence of "I act as I am supposed to," but made no comment. He needed to understand, and if that meant he needed to explain the situation to the one who would explain it to him, then so be it. Ignoring the lack of actual rationale behind his reasoning, Hiei watched Kurama expectantly with a hint of desperation, in case that spurred the fox into action.

"Of course it does."

"No, it doesn't. You're thinking too much."

"I need to balance out the fact that you are not thinking at all."

Hiei bit back a snap of indignation. He was thinking, maybe more than Kurama was—in fact, almost certainly more than Kurama was, all things considered. To balance him out, Kurama needed to stop thinking entirely, but that would never do; Kurama's thoughts, distorted or completely backwards as they might have been, were keeping him relatively stable, if not properly sane. Of course, Hiei himself couldn't claim total sanity, could he? None of them could. None of them ever could, not since childhood, not since birth. Had they ever been sane, ever, they might not have ended up where they did, inexorably tied together in a complex and often maddening web of fates.

"Maybe you should just let yourself fall down for once."

"I have been trying for days and days to keep that from happening."

"And look where it's got you!"

The notes grew louder now, Kurama's humming nearly covered as Hiei began to predict the next few bars. Clarity of the moon, he began to reason again, almost certainly meant that something would happen at night. On a clear moonlit night, in fact; the night of a full moon. When would that be? Not for a few weeks. Miru wasn't expecting them to arrive for some time. Good, he thought maliciously, all the better to startle her and gain a quick upper hand. But details, details…the question was no longer "when?" but "where?"

"I need your help."

"Funny, I was just about to say the same to you."

"I don't think I'll be of any use to you."

Hiei groaned. Again, Kurama was being self-deprecating. That was bad. Bad, he scolded himself, and you couldn't stop it? You saw it coming, you knew it would happen eventually. Way to go, Hiei, you went wrong again. Again. All right, none of that; get back on your feet and take control. No one else is going to do it, that's certain.

"You would, I'm sure. Just have a little faith in yourself for once and start thinking rationally, would you?"

Kurama laughed hollowly. "I have faith in myself all the time, and look where it's got me!" he finished in a slightly mocking tone at which Hiei took no offense. "I'm sick of it all. I'm done with life. Never cheat death, all right? It only comes back to haunt you."

"I'll remember that."

"See that you do."