Warnings: Cursing
Lucky Child
Chapter 25
"Knowing You"
Kurama wasted no time, much to my displeasure. The next day at lunch he walked right up to me in the middle of the cafeteria and said, "Yukimura. Would you mind keeping me company over lunch today?"
Thank my lucky stars I'd prepped for something like this. I'd been prepping for interactions with Kurama—no, Minamino (don't mess up the name!) the way I'd been prepping Kuwabara for his English test…namely, with flashcards. I'd prepped an answer for just about anything Minamino might ask, scenario like this included. Yeah, I'm good.
"Sorry," I said, with an appropriately apologetic smile, "but I promised to eat lunch with my friend Kaito."
One brow lifted. "Kaito Yuu?" Minamino asked.
"Yes."
"Ah. I know him from an academic decathlon, but we haven't spoken in some time." He offered me an innocent smile—one I did not trust in the slightest. "It would be nice to reconnect."
Well, fuck this guy right in the earhole.
Minamino had just pulled an insidious social move mastered by my Texan grandmother, back in my old life: the good old Southern Passive-Aggressive Non-Suggestion. And he'd done a flawless job of it, too. He'd told me what he wanted, and was waiting for me to be a nice person and offer to help him get what he wanted. That put all the decision-making on my head. He hadn't asked to be re-introduced to Kaito, but dammit, he certainly expected me to make that happen now that he'd said that's what he wanted.
Basically, if I didn't suggest that he come with me to reconnect with Kaito like he wanted, I'd look like a jerk.
…too bad for Minamino I don't really care if people think I'm a jerk.
"Yeah, Kaito's cool," I said. I turned and waved over my shoulder. "Maybe another day. Bye!"
Much as I wanted to see Minamino's reaction, I didn't linger. I bolted from the cafeteria and all but ran down the hallways, glancing over my shoulder as though I might see a fox slinking around a corner in my wake.
I'd wondered if I'd said too much when I thanked Minamino. I hadn't said anything outright to acknowledge his powers, but perhaps my verbiage had been too loaded. Minamino was smart, after all. Perhaps calling out his mask, even just his social one, had been enough to tip him off, and the flower-thank-you only stirred the pot further. Minamino seeking me out for lunch certainly suggested he considered our business unfinished…
When I found Kaito in our usual spot on the library stairwell, he put down his book and favored me with a confused expression.
"Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" he said.
"Try a demon," I muttered, hopping onto the windowsill so I could unpack my lunch across my lap. "Minamino wanted to eat together."
Kaito's unflappable demeanor flapped, eyes popping wide. "He what?"
"I said, he wanted to eat together."
"Why?"
"Hell if I know." I hid the following lie under a liberal dressing of sarcasm: "I thanked him for helping me with Junko and I think he thinks we're friends now."
"Preposterous." He glared at the pages of his book so intently I feared they might catch fire. "You already have one genius friend. You have no need for another."
"One: Good point, you're enough of a handful as it is. Two: You have no say over my friends list."
"I am under no illusions as to the contrary. You are far too independent for that," he said, not deigning to look up from his book. "I am merely stating a logical fact. You and I possess sufficient intellectual capacity on our own. A third party would only complicated our lunchtime soiree."
"OK. Sure," I said, "but can you really have a soiree in a stairwell?"
He shoved his glasses up his nose—a movement I'd come to realize indicated he'd been thrown off balance, or he was buying himself a moment to think without looking like he needed one. Prideful guy, Kaito.
"Perhaps 'soiree' is too grandiose a word for our lunchtime tête-à-tête," he admitted, and then he sighed. "I long for the day we can take lunch off campus."
"Too bad we have to be in the 12th grade for that."
"Yes. I suppose I must be patient." He settled back against the stairs, book closing around one placemark finger. "Time cannot pass quickly enough. Graduation seems eons away. But once I'm rid of this place…"
He peered off, eyes distant. Oh, the woes of a teenage genius. Despite his intelligence, Kaito didn't know how good he had it—how good it was to just be a kid, devoid of real responsibility. Not that teens don't have very real problems and whatnot, but still. This second life had been rather illuminating when it came to the value of childhood.
"Don't be so quick to grow up," I chided. "Enjoy high school while it lasts. College, too. Adulthood isn't all it's cracked up to be."
Thin brows arched above his narrow eyes. "Watch it, Yukimura. You're younger than me, even if you're up a grade."
Despite the wording, Kaito didn't actually sound offended (Kaito was not so easily bruised). I apologized regardless. "Sorry. Didn't mean to patronize. It's just ironic that kids are the only people who can't see how great being a kid is." I shrugged. "Grass is greener, I guess. Kids want to be adults, but once you reach adulthood, you'd do anything to go back to the playground."
"I do suppose George Bernard Shaw said, 'Youth is such a wonderful thing; what a crime to waste it on children,'" Kaito said. "If the literary greats agree with you, so too must I."
"Forgive me for being pedestrian, but glam metal band Cinderella and singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell agree with me, too," I added. "'You don't know what you got till it's gone,' as they both said. So—"
"Yukimura. Kaito. What a coincidence."
Kaito and I flinched in unison, turning as one up the staircase. Minamino (of course) stood at the top of the stairs holding a bento box in his pale hands. He wore a surprised smile, as though he had happily stumbled upon a box of free kittens and was just so pleased, how wonderful, I must tell my mother about this lovely moment! Or something. I felt a little too freaked to come up with a good metaphor.
When his eyes met mine, I saw the smile didn't quite reach them.
"Fortuitous indeed. I was just talking to Yukimura in the cafeteria, and I mentioned I'd like to reconnect with you," Kurama said. He bowed down at us, mouth still curved and pleasant. "Kaito. You might not remember me. My name is Minamino—"
"I know who you are," Kaito said, deadpan. "What do you want?"
"Merely to say hello and ask after your health." He gestured toward us. "May I sit?"
Kaito's back stiffened, but even he knew better than to be needlessly rude (or maybe he had determined that if he buddied up to Minamino, he could find out his weaknesses and beat him on tests—wouldn't put it past Kaito to calculate those odds). Whatever the case, Kaito eventually muttered: "I suppose."
Minamino's smile widened, warming his eyes just a touch. He trotted down the steps and settled in next to Kaito. I maintained my spot in the window ledge, lunch spread across my lap, and began counting the grains of rice in my onigiri.
I needn't have distracted myself, however. Minamino didn't talk to me. Instead he turned to Kaito and began reminiscing about the academic decathlon they'd competed in the previous year. Kaito replied with short answers, measuring up Minamino's cheerful and polite demeanor with barely masked suspicion. His social masks weren't as developed as present company's, but despite his dislike of Minamino, Kaito managed to keep an impressive veneer of polite distance in place as he fielded Minamino's chipper recollections.
Minamino rarely looked at me while they talked. Occasionally his eyes slid my way. Never for more than a moment, though, and only at times when it would've been rude not to acknowledge all people in the room. At those times I ducked my head and counted my rice.
"Are you still competing in academic contests?" Minamino asked Kaito. He had moved up a step, leaning against the wall so he could stretch one leg along the stair's length. "I confess I have not, as of late, unless specifically asked by the administration.
"No," Kaito said. "I've specified my interests. Too busy writing papers on literary theory. Speaking of which…"
Kaito set the drink he'd been holding on the edge of Minamino's step and reached for his school bag on the floor. Just then Minamino moved his leg as if to adjust position—and his calf collided with the drink. The carton tumbled off the step and onto the stair below, a spray of liquid dotting Kaito's shirt. Kaito made a sound of disgust and yanked his bag far away from the spill. A puddle had threatened to consume his homework.
"Oh—I'm so sorry," Minamino said, rising to his feet. "Let me get paper towels—"
"No. I need to wash this out before it stains, anyway," Kaito said. He stood and walked up the stairs. "Be right back."
My stomach lurched. I hopped off the windowsill. "I'll go with—"
"No need," he called over his shoulder. "One minute."
…and with that he was gone, leaving me alone with Mina—no.
Leaving me alone with Kurama.
I assure you, there is a difference.
Kurama watched me through cool green eyes, smile vanishing the second Kaito disappeared from view. Much as I wanted to avoid making eye contact, I knew I couldn't avoid it forever—which meant I might as well try to get the upper hand. I rounded on Kurama and stared right at him, bold as brass and cold as a glacier.
"J'accuse," I said.
His brow furrowed. "Hmm?"
"It means 'I accuse.'"
He hummed. "And what, precisely, are you accusing me of?"
"Do you really have to ask?" When he offered nothing more helpful than a sunny, synthetic smile, I sighed and said, "Did you follow me here?"
"That is quite an accusation, Yukimura. Did you notice me following you?" he asked—too innocently for comfort.
"No," I had to admit.
"Then it appears you have your answer." His prim response had my teeth gritting. "You left the cafeteria long before I did. Following you would have been difficult, since you had a head start."
The absurdity of that statement raised my hackles. If Kurama wanted to follow someone, he damn well would figure out how. I said, "Yeah, but knowing you, you probably have ways—"
I stopped talking.
Kurama's smile faded.
"Knowing me?" he repeated, silky voice pitched low.
Fuck fuck fuckity fuck—
"Never mind," I said.
"No. Tell me." He took one step in my direction, but that was enough to send me backing up until I hit the wall. He did not seem to notice, green eyes locked and loaded on my face, pupils ablaze with energy that lit them up from the inside like thunderheads. "'Knowing me', you said? Need I remind you we met mere days ago? What ways might I have, that you could possibly know about?"
His voice was like thunder and velvet had had an auditory baby, and in spite of the danger I knew he represented, a shiver skated up the length of my spine. I pushed the feeling deep, deep down, though, and tossed my hair as I crossed my arms over my chest.
"Knowing how smart you are, since you're the only person who ever beats Kaito in exams, you could easily find me without following me outright," I said, madly grabbing for the first panicked reason I could grasp (thank you, flashcards!). "Maybe you asked classmates where I eat lunch."
Kurama's stormcloud expression cleared—a little. A summer shower instead of a typhoon.
"I see," he muttered.
I hummed. "You've got a reputation, Minamino. I don't have to know you to know it."
I turned my back on him (which was perhaps a stupid decision in retrospect) and grabbed my onigiri off the windowsill. Better I shoved food in my mouth than keep talking and shove my foot in it—because I had very nearly blurted out that Kurama's fox nose could've tracked my scent and followed me to this spot and oh my god, Keiko, you are such a dumbass! Dead giveaway I knew too much. So glad I came up with the alterative 'ask other students' possibility and the bit about knowing how smart he was thanks to exam scores. Even alluding to the idea of him having powers would be a bridge too far. Thankfully my panicked brain and my flashcards had—
"So tell me," Kurama said, "what do you know about adulthood?"
I flinched at the sound of his voice. I choked down my onigiri (even Dad's brilliant cooking tasted like sandpaper just then) and turned to Kurama, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. "Beg pardon?"
"I overhead." His eyes still stormed, but they didn't crackle with lightning like before. "You cautioned Kaito against growing up too quickly. You were quite authoritative on the matter." His lips quirked, hair tumbling in a glossy wave when his head tipped. "One might suspect you spoke from experience, if not for your youthful features."
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit. Was Kurama really that perceptive, to see the truth in my offhand, overheard comments to Kaito? Or was he just casting desperate fishing lines and hoping for any sort of bite? Too bad for him I was smarter than your average fish. Think, Keiko, think, remember your flashcards—!
"What can I say?" I said with a shrug. "I grew up fast."
"Is that so," he said. He did not sound convinced.
"My parents run a restaurant," I said. Arranging my features into my Keiko-at-school mask afforded me confidence; my beatific smile betrayed none of my internal panic. "Was expected to learn the business and help out as soon as I could walk, so…" Another shrug, a helpless smile. "I didn't mean to patronize Kaito. Call my attitude a consequence of coming from a working class family, I guess?"
Kurama didn't say a damn word. He just looked at me—playing that game of initiating an awkward silence so the other person starts to talk, perhaps? For once, I succumbed to his ploy.
"Mom's always telling me to slow down." I rolled my eyes at the notion of a nagging mother—a typical teenage look, one I'd perfected with the aim of blending in. "I was just parroting what she says about kids growing up too fast, that's all."
My answer was perfect, of course. The best lies spring from truth, and everything I said was true. Mom always told me to slow down, be a kid, go on dates, make friends…so, yeah. When paired with my practiced Keiko-smile and nonchalant attitude, my answers were absolutely plausible and perfect.
…so why did Kurama's still look so suspicious of me?
Green eyes traced my face as though looking for answers in the map of my pores. I bore his scrutiny with a bemused smile, trying to affect an air of 'What's this guy's problem?' mixed with 'OK, this guy is weird, but harmless, so let me humor him a minute.'" Kurama didn't appear to notice, of course. He just looked me over the way my dad looked over cuts of meat before purchasing, then eventually lifted his eyes to meet mine.
My smile faltered at the certainty I observed in them.
His lips curled at the corners.
"You have an answer for everything, don't you, Yukimura?" he murmured.
For once in this overthinker's collection of lives, the constant worry, the constant overthinking…all of that melted away.
Inside my head, it was quiet—because the feeling of complete and utter horror had chased all coherent thought right out the fucking window.
Kurama stared at me.
I stared at him.
Neither of us spoke.
Kaito chose that moment to return (I might be an atheist, but I offered up tearful thanks to any and all deities that might've had a hand in that cosmically fortuitous timing). We heard his footfalls in the corridor before we saw him, but in the scant time before he appeared at the top of the stairs, Kurama smoothed his satisfied smile into one of blank, pleasant benevolence. He greeted Kaito smoothly, picking up the conversation right where they'd left off.
Before replying, Kaito spared a moment to shoot a concerned, inquisitive glance at the expression on my face—one I can only assume looked quite dire indeed, if it did anything to reflect the disturbed way I felt inside.
My answers had been perfect.
Maybe they had been too perfect.
Maybe a more natural reaction to Kurama's interrogation would've been to look confused, stutter and stammer, ask him what the hell he was talking about, rather than bust out a response both perfectly calculated and smoothly executed. Was I too good at dodging his questions? Did my preparedness make me look guilty of his suspicions, somehow—or was I just overthinking this, and reading too far into those narrowed eyes and thin lips?
Maybe, just maybe, he was counting on me to overthink things, and trip myself up in the process.
I didn't get my answer that day. The bell rang, forcing us to part ways and head to class. After school I ran home before anyone could speak to me. I took refuge in the absorbing task of tutoring Kuwabara. His goofy smiles and loud laugh soothed my panicked soul. I went to bed that night resolving to avoid Minamino as much as possible. If that meant avoiding Kaito, too, so be it.
I would not get caught by Kurama. I would not put my foot in my mouth again.
…though knowing me (and knowing him), that was a fate inevitable, and a promise made to be broken.
Too bad for me, and despite my best efforts to slip away after class and hide, Kurama found me during lunch every day for the next week. He always made a big production over it, much to my chagrin. If he saw me in the hall he'd call my name in that musical voice of his (it carried way farther than I suspected it could) and say something about how coincidental it was to run into each other in that particular hallway. Students whispered behind their hands as Kurama walked at my side, guiding me like a deranged sheepdog to our lunchtime destination. The antisocial Minamino being social? How novel. Of course people noticed, and talked.
A few times I saw Amagi in the crowd, watching us without whispering with the others. She kept her gaze locked on Kurama and I, fists clenched tight at her side. Every time our eyes met, she'd turn and dart away, lost amid the crowd of gaping onlookers.
Kurama never acknowledged the other students. He walked me from class to my spot with Kaito, all pleasant smiles and polite greetings, then sat with us and chatted over our bento boxes like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Lucky for me, Kaito is smart—smart enough to see the stricken expression on my face after being left alone with Kurama and know exactly what it meant. I didn't have to say a word for him to realize Kurama made me uncomfortable. He never allowed me to be alone with the fox demon again. A few days later his drink mysteriously spilled a second time, but he pulled a fistful of paper towels from his bag and mopped up the spill on the spot.
Kurama's polite, helpful smile faltered just a smidge at that.
"After last time, I thought it prudent to carry these in case another spill should occur," Kaito said, deadpan eyes meeting Kurama's without flinching. "We seem to be a clumsy group, after all."
Kurama's eyes slid my way for a fraction of a second.
"Yes," he said when he looked back at Kaito. "It seems we are."
Kurama knew better than to bug me after school, I think, or to follow me home. Harassment on school grounds was one thing, but stalking me after hours would be too obvious. He never tried to talk to me after our last class of the day. He would just offer me a polite smile, an obligatory nod, and leave to pursue his personal after-school activities.
One week of lunches later, however, someone else decided they wanted to talk to me.
Kurama had just walked out, and I had just remembered how to breathe for the day, when a shadow fell over my desk. Amagi didn't have this class with me, but somehow she'd materialized in the room mere seconds after the bell rang. I couldn't hide my surprised reaction; she countered it with a tight, brittle smile.
"Keiko-san," she said. "Can I talk with you?"
"Um. Sure?"
"Good. Come with me."
She cut a path through the students in the hall, leading me to a wing of the school I wasn't all that familiar with. She didn't talk to me. Her eyes stayed forward, focused, not deigning to shoot even a sideways glance in my direction. Once we cleared the throng of milling students I said, "What's this about?"
"Just something I need to discuss with you," was all she would say.
Eventually we stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and tried to wave me inside. I didn't move and instead smiled at her, questioning and pliant, but she didn't smile back. She just waved, indicating I should enter ahead of her.
I did so.
The room was full of girls.
Ten girls, to be precise. They sat on desks, leaned against the chalkboard, stood in whispering knots here and there like clustered, gossiping hens. I recognized most of them from various classes, though I only knew the name of one: Junko, the girl who had tried to pry details about Yusuke's death from me. She didn't talk to me, though. Another girl walked forward, looked me up and down, and clucked her tongue.
"This is her?" the girl asked. She was tall enough to look down her nose at me, which she did with obvious relish.
"Yeah, Hotaru," said Junko. Her long brown ponytail flipped like an annoyed horse tail. "That's her."
Hotaru's lips, coated in a layer of gloss, curled around her gleaming teeth.
"Thought she'd be prettier," she said.
I bristled. I started to tell Hotaru to back off, because I didn't appreciate strangers stepping to me like this, and she did not want to mess with me today.
The words never came.
Behind me, I heard Amagi lock the door.
NOTES
Made a Tumblr! Username LuckyStarChild. Let's connect!
Kurama is just too sharp. Keiko's over-preparedness and too-perfect answers don't work in her favor. Damn flashcards!
This list of people right here gave me life this week when they reviewed, because they're awesome and fantastic: rya-fire1, rezgurnk, Melissa Fairy, DarkDust27, Yunrii, xenocanaan, La Femme Absurde, buzzk97, Drachegirl14, wolfzero7, DiCuoreAllison, Marian, giant salamander, reebajee, Kaiya Azure, Maester Ta, Evalyd Yamazaki, FireDancerNix, MetroNeko, Just 2 Dream of You, reveress-plegue, Miqila, Guest x2, InTheArmsofaThief!
