Warnings: None


Lucky Child

Chapter 31:

"Not Alone"


Despite my occasional flair for the dramatic, the spotlight doesn't appeal to me. I get too nervous to stand in its hot light—nervous and sweaty.

A few weeks after learning the truth of Hiruko's origin, and after a very eventful weekend, when I went to school I kept my head down and did my very best to blend into the wall. Amagi and Junko weren't fooled and jumped on me the minute they saw me, despite my efforts to remain invisible, but Kaito reacted in a markedly different fashion. He looked up from his book when I arrived for lunch and said, "You're late."

No other reaction. No commentary, no widening of the eyes, no questions.

When Minamino arrived a minute later, he stopped midway through 'hello' and stared.

"What?" I touched the back of my cold neck. "Cat got your tongue?"

He immediately schooled his features into a less curious expression. Still, I could see the questions brimming behind his mild façade.

"Apologies," he said in that rich silken voice of his, "but—your hair?"

I touched my neck again, conscious of every little breeze brushing my bare nape. Sometimes I reached up to grab my hair, pull and twist it between my fingers to cope with stress, but in those moments I tangled my fingers in nothing but my shirtfront.

"Yeah," I said, running my hands over my short, thick locks. "I got a little trim."

Minamino lifted a brow at my bland understatement. Kaito merely lowered his book and peered at me, lips pressing into a confused line.

"Is your hair shorter?" he asked.

Minamino's brow rose even higher. "She cut off more than a foot of hair, by my estimations."

Another searching look in my direction. Kaito shrugged and raised his book again.

"Oh," he said. "I hadn't noticed."

"Kaito—her hair was even longer than mine." Minamino stared at our bespectacled friend in utter disbelief. "How could you not notice?"

Unamused eyes appeared over the top of Kaito's book.

"I suppose I was distracted by the bandages on her chest and arm," he said. "Those seemed slightly more important than a haircut, by my humble estimation."

Ugh—how had he noticed? I thought my winter uniform concealed the bandages. I tugged my collar and my sleeve to cover any edges peeking from my clothing, wincing as adhesive tugged my sensitive skin, but Minamino—more like Kurama, given the intensity of his stare—swung his eyes in my direction before I could completely hide the evidence.

"Of course," he intoned. "I noticed them as well. I merely thought I'd begin with the most obvious change to Yukimura's appearance."

I met his stare with insouciance and a shrug.

"Rough weekend," I said, in lieu of a real explanation.

"Yes. I can see that," Kurama said, in lieu of a sardonic what-the-hell-aren't-you-telling-me.

"I'd ask if you went through a bad breakup," Kaito cut in, "but the bandages suggest a more harrowing story…unless, of course, there is someone Minamino and I might be compelled to murder on your behalf."

"I don't know if I should be creeped out or touched, that you basically just offered to kill any abusive boyfriends in my life," I said, because…aww! How cute, in a totally weird way! Even Kurama looked oddly in tune with Kaito's logic, offering me a disarmingly innocent smile. I chose to ignore that; thinking of how the fox might enact revenge (even on someone who deserved it) chilled me to the bone. "But why would you assume I went through a breakup because I cut my hair?"

"It is my understanding that women often cut their hair when they go through an abrupt life change," Kaito said. "Breakups are the cliché example of an impetus for this behavior. But as I said, the bandages suggest an alternative explanation." He licked a thumb and turned the page of his book, though I don't believe for a second he'd actually read anything. "Furthermore, I have it on good authority that you do not date under any circumstances, reducing the likelihood of a breakup to zero."

Kurama frowned at me, then. I rolled my eyes.

"Leave it to you to turn my new haircut into a chance to show off your deductive skills," I carped. Walking past Kurama and Kaito, I plopped down on the window sill and reached to adjust—shit, no pigtails. This would take some getting used to.

Kurama watched me with expression shrewd and searching. "If not a breakup, may I ask what prompted this change?"

Careful to only touch the edges, I traced a finger over the bandages on my arm.

"It's a long story," I said.

"Then it's a good thing we have all lunch," came Kurama's silken reply.

One look at his charming, hard-eyed smile told me I couldn't avoid telling them the truth about what happened.

most of the truth, anyway.


The city watch vans circled my neighborhood like buzzards, announcing that despite the cold weather, dry conditions had led to multiple fires in the area. Residents should be on high alert for sparks catching on dry debris, and to keep their eyes peeled for arsonists. Two fires lit that afternoon appeared to be the handiwork of a firebug; don't let your home fall victim next!

As soon as I heard the messages, I knew. I knew the way I'd known Yusuke would die, when I heard his name over the loudspeaker at Sarayashiki.

I knew that today, I would have to run into a fire to save Yusuke's life.

And I had to do it, too. Yusuke had to throw that egg to save my life. If he didn't, the beast within would eat him alive, and he'd never come back to life.

Risking my life, then, meant saving his.

…only did it count as risking my life when I knew he'd come to my rescue and save it?

But did I know he'd save it?

Maybe, if I'd changed too much about our relationship…maybe he wouldn't throw that egg. Maybe the fire would consume me as Yusuke fell prey to the call of self-preservation. But that was impossible, right?

…right?

Packing up my things and leaving his body comatose in the house felt wrong, but I had to do it to give the arsonist the chance to set that fire. I left the house when I heard the vans and wandered to the shopping district, prattling an excuse about going shopping to benefit any prying (not to mention ghostly) ears. Tried to look casual in case Botan was watching, of course—a difficult feat when questions of fate, love, bonds, and destiny ran through my head like a roadrunner on crack. I played it cool while I shopped, keeping my eyes on the sky as I searched for a column of smoke in the direction of Yusuke's house.

The moment I saw a ribbon of black stain blue, I turned tail and dashed back the way I'd come.

Even though I knew Yusuke would save me (right?) I still had to steel my nerves before dumping a bucket of water over my head and charging toward the house. I had to do this, I had to do this, I had to do this, I had to! The mantra screamed inside my head as I fought the crowd, pushing through them toward the front door. A few people tried to stop me, of course. I rounded on them with a snarl, recycling a line of Keiko's dialogue so I could call them cowards—and I meant it, too, in that moment. I told them someone was inside, but they still grabbed at my clothes and tried to hold me back.

"My best friend is in there!" I screeched at them, wrenching myself away. "Don't you fucking touch me!"

Despite my big words, fear gnawed my gut like a hungry coyote. How had Keiko done this without the knowledge Yusuke would save her? How could she have been that selfless, that brave? My whole body shook like a taut bowstring as I tore myself from the grasps of strangers, but I tried not to think about how dangerous this was as I turned to face the flames.

I had to save Yusuke.

I had to.

But how could I, when I was so afraid? My limbs quaked with every step, with every movement—but, no. Don't think of it that way.

I had to think of these limbs as Keiko's, not my own.

Right now, I couldn't afford to be myself. I couldn't afford to listen to anxiety, to the voice of fear shouting deafening condemnations in my skull. I had to put myself aside and just let go, give in to being Keiko—strong, brave, indomitable Yukimura Keiko. A woman far braver than my past self had ever been. I had to stop thinking of myself, right now, and simply fulfill Keiko's destiny.

Yusuke's life depended on it. It depended on me letting go of my ego and becoming a woman I was not.

Somehow, against all odds, against my own sense of self-preservation both physical and spiritual…in the wake of that realization, my shaking ceased.

My fear abated, and I plunged headlong into the conflagration.

My newfound determination didn't dull the pain of crashing into a burning building, unfortunately. A gout of flame spouted from the door when I pushed it open; my eyes watered, nose streaming from the smell of burning hair and wood. I tugged my sweater over my mouth and nose and pushed my way inside, picking past the burning couch and coffee table, dodging debris when it fell from the smoldering ceiling. I relied mostly on memory of the house because the heat—the pulsating, suffocating heat—made seeing almost impossible. Breath came in hot gasps as I trekked through the burning wreckage and burst through the door into Yusuke's room, air filling my lungs like boiling water poured into pitiful, thin balloons.

I shut the door behind me. It was hot in here, but nothing had caught fire (yet). I sucked down a great gulp of smoke-free air and ran to Yusuke. Offering silent thanks to Yusuke's caregivers and their tutelage, I removed his IVs and feeding tube and strapped his catheter bag to his leg (no way was I touching Yusuke's dick, emergency or no emergency). I just hoped and prayed that whatever magic had brought him back to life would sustain him though the ordeal to come. Just hang in a little longer, Yusuke, just hang in there…

I took off my soaked cardigan and wrapped it around his thin frame to protect him from the fire. Then I wrapped him in a blanket, hefted him over my shoulder, and kicked open the bedroom door.

The fire surged forward like a living, hungry beast, licking against the arm I threw up with a lash of searing pain. I screamed and stumbled back, but sparks had ignited the bed behind me.

No way through but forward, Keiko.

Get moving before you get killed.

The carpet—cheap and made mostly of plastic, I guessed—had melted more than burned. It stuck tackily to the bottoms of my shoes as I slogged through the house, sucking at my feet like quicksand. I yelped when we reached the middle of the living room and a ceiling tile fell on top of us. I thrust out my arm, screaming yet again as fire seared my skin. When I felt embers trickle down the collar of my shirt I tried to let out another scream—only this time smoke clogged my lungs. I choked, coughed, spat out black saliva as my hair started to smolder. My knees weakened as my vision swam, lack of oxygen turning my impaired vision even blurrier. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't scream, oh Yusuke, where are you? I couldn't smell anything but smoke—

This is where I die, I thought in an adrenaline-fueled burst of clarity.

But then, in the scant space between seconds, something changed.

One second I thought, briefly, that I might actually die here. One second, I could only smell choking, suffocating smoke. The next, an acrid chemical tang undercut the scent—a familiar smell. One I'd been smelling for years. One that my heart identified before my brain could catch up. I relaxed the second I smelled it, lips curling in a comforted smile as it wafted like a cool breeze across my face. It smelled like home and safety, a warm hand and an open heart.

I opened my eyes

The fire had turned blue.

Out of nowhere, a cool wind sprang up, zephyr spiraling past me and into the fire like a spear thrown by steady hand. The fire rippled and shifted, a whirlpool of empty space opening amidst the flames in a tunnel leading—

The front door.

The front door lay at the other end, unobstructed by flames at last.

And then, I was not alone.

Kuwabara ran through the door a moment later, with a scream of my name so desperate for a second I thought he might be in pain. I screeched his name in return, handing over Yusuke's comatose body so he could carry it from the house. We stumbled out together, my hand clasped tight in his, and collapsed on the ground near the edge of the property in a heap. I lay there panting, clearing smoke from my lungs with vicious, bone-shaking coughs. Eventually I wretched, stomach heaving as the last inhaled bits of ash and cinder forcefully left my body. Kuwabara patted my back and murmured comforts until I could speak. Fresh, cold winter air bit at my face like snapping teeth.

"Yusuke," I rasped, vision still full of soot. "Is he—?"

"He's fine, I think," Kuwabara said. He looked around, at the crowd staring at us and the firemen rushing toward the house. "But Keiko, it's not safe—"

He didn't have to say more. Yusuke had died, and as far as the public knew, we were carrying the corpse of a dead boy. I nodded and stood up. Kuwabara joined me, Yusuke slung across his back like a sack of potatoes.

"I know where we can take him," Kuwabara said. He grabbed my hand. "C'mon. Follow me."

Eyes sooty and stinging, mouth full of grit, body thrumming with energy—I didn't question Kuwabara. I grabbed his hand back and ran after him up the street.

If I trusted anyone to take care of Yusuke—and of me—it was Kuwabara.


After a few minutes of lung-wrenching running, we stood in front of Kuwabara's house. Bigger than expected, two stories loomed above us behind a bit of yard out front. Kuwabara trotted right up the front steps, but I hung back and stared at the flowerbeds by the porch. Kuwabara glanced at me over his shoulder.

"Right," he said. "You've never been to my house." He beckoned me with an impatient wave. "Nobody'll bite ya! Let's get Yusuke inside. C'mon!"

Despite his assurances, I had my doubts…because inside I knew I'd likely encounter Shizuru. No telling how that reunion would go. Did she even remember me? We'd met years ago, after all. Maybe she'd be suspicious of the same girl from the playground worming into her brother's life so many years later, and—

No. Now was not the time. My worries were less important than Yusuke's health. We needed to get Yusuke examined by his doctor, and to do that I needed a phone, so I had no choice but to follow Kuwabara inside.

We found Shizuru in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window above the sink. Her hair had grown to the length in the anime, but she still rocked dapper menswear, same as she had as an unimpressed teen girl. The minute she saw us she dropped her cigarette in the drain and turned on the sink to drown the embers—and thank god for that, because when I smelled that smoke, my stomach clenched with sudden nausea. Shizuru looked at the bundle in Kuwabara's arms and lifted one well-plucked eyebrow.

"Wow, baby bro," she said. "You making friends with dead people now?"

"Shut up, Shizuru, this is an emergency!" he said. He took Yusuke through the kitchen and into the living room beyond. "Keiko, should we call Atsuko?"

"No telling where she is, but I've got Yusuke's doctor's number memorized." I looked at Shizuru and bowed. "Hello. I'm sorry to barge in, but can I use your phone? It really is an emergency."

She studied me a second, sizing me up like a piece of brisket at the market. Apparently I passed muster because she tossed me the handset of the cordless phone on the wall without a word. I dialed the number of Yusuke's doctor and hurriedly told the nurse what had happened. She gasped when I mentioned the fire, but I didn't pause to give her the juicy details. Yusuke needed his doctor, now.

"We'll send an ambulance immediately," she said, "but where should we send it—?"

Something touched my shoulder. I flinched, but it was only Shizuru handing me a piece of paper between two fingers. I recognized it as a phone bill and for a minute I had no idea why she'd handed it to me—but then, oh, that was their address at the top of the letter. Perfect. I shot Shizuru a thankful look as I read the address to the nurse.

The next ten minutes passed in a flurry of activity. I called my mother and told her what happened, and what was happening now, and asked her to track down Atsuko, or at least go to the hospital and wait for Yusuke to show up. I promised to meet her there as soon as I could. Then I checked Yusuke's vitals. He seemed to be breathing OK on his own; his pulse beat faint but steady under my fingertips. So far so good. We arranged him on the living room couch where hopefully he'd be comfortable—and when that was done, my strength failed me. I sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs and put my head in my hands.

It was done.

It was done.

Yusuke had survived the fire. He'd sacrificed the egg to save my life.

All according to plan. No rules broken.

Suck it, Hiruko!

Kuwabara's big, gentle hand descended on my shoulder. I tangled my fingers in his, squeezing to acknowledge him and provide comfort in return. I heard a siren in the distance, far but getting closer.

"I think they're almost here," he murmured.

And so they were. I had only a moment to rest before they pounded on the door and whisked Yusuke away. I started to follow, to get into the ambulance with him, but the paramedics shook their heads.

"Only family can ride in the back," they said.

"He's basically my brother," I snarled, trying to get my leg over the back bumper, but Kuwabara dragged me off before I could do anything stupid. We watched in silence in the middle of the street as they took Yusuke away with a blare of strident sirens.

And then those sirens faded, and we were alone.

"Well. Time to go, then," I said. Before I could run after the ambulance like Forest-Gump-determination, Kuwabara caught me by the arm.

"Keiko—take a minute to breathe, OK?" he said. His dark eyes glittered with concern, blocky brow furrowed as he searched my face. I didn't move when he swiped a thumb across my cheek. "Geez. You're covered in dirt!"

I touched my face. I expected my fingers to come away sooty, but they were already stained black. I stared at them in disbelief before scrubbing a hand over my face. Mealy dirt rubbed hard into my skin. Oh god. What did I even look like right now? I spread my arms and looked down at my clothes—oh. My shirt had been yellow earlier. Now it was brown and black and ruined. I lifted my collar to my nose and inhaled, but I couldn't smell anything but the scent of pervasive smoke.

"Do…do I smell like an ashtray?" I asked.

Kuwabara looked away—but he nodded.

"Oh." I paused. "Um. I guess I'll go home and—"

"Sorry. But you're not going anywhere."

Shizuru stood on the porch. She'd lit up another cigarette, watching us the way a cat watches a bird through a window.

"Not while you look like that, anyway," she said. She jerked her head toward the door. "C'mon. You can shower here, borrow my clothes. And we'll fix your hair while we're at it."

I frowned. "My hair—?"

I grabbed at my chest where my pigtails normally lay, but my fingers encountered only one pigtail. I patted my head and neck, gingerly searching for my hair, eyes widening when I found only one tail where there had once been two. I lifted my eyes to Kuwabara's and gaped at him.

"My hair?" I repeated.

His cheeks colored. "Um. It's—it doesn't look bad, honest!"

"Liar," Shizuru said, sparing no time for niceties. "She looks like hell."

Kuwabara stammered something about tact; Shizuru laughed. Without a word I walked up the steps and went indoors. Shizuru showed me to the bathroom upstairs without speaking. Only when I stepped past the door did she say, "I can wash those clothes if you want, but I'm pretty sure they're ruined."

"You…you can just throw them out," I said.

"Sure." She grabbed the doorknob. "I'll bring you new clothes once you're in the shower."

"OK."

She left me alone…alone except for my reflection, staring at me from the mirror above the sink. I barely recognized myself at first. Huge, dark eyes stared out of a face covered in ash. Though a pigtail hung down from the right side of my head, the left bore only a ragged fringe of ruined hair. Must've gotten burned off when that debris fell on me.

My mom had really liked my hair.

I'd always considered pigtails juvenile, but my mom was going to pitch a fit when she saw this. People would be able to hear her scolding in the next prefecture when she found out I'd run into a burning building.

For no reason whatsoever, my eyes pricked with tears.

Half of the water that cleaned my face, I suspected, came not from the shower I eventually took, but came rather from the fountain of my eyes—eyes that wept with grief for my hair, and the aftermath of peril, but mostly from the feeling of stark, intense relief bubbling painful inside my chest.

Yusuke had sacrificed the egg.

Yusuke was coming back to life.

I hadn't fucked up canon, after all.


All told, I came out of the fire ordeal with only minimal injuries. My chest and forearm both sported slick, red, bubbling burns, which I made very sure not to scrub or agitate as I washed my ruined hair and soaped my overheated flesh. They only hurt when I touched them, thank my lucky stars. When the water stopped running black, and when I'd scrubbed the last of the soot from my skin, I dressed in a pair of women's running shorts and a man's soft t-shirt. The neckline hung low off one shoulder, keeping the burn on my chest exposed and away from chafing cloth.

"You OK in there?"

I jumped, but it was just Shizuru with gauze and ointment. I dressed my wounds under her watchful eye (conscious all the while that I was two inches away from flashing a boob in this oversized shirt). She held up a hand when I made to leave the room.

"Wait," she said.

She left, then retuned bearing a chair, a sheet, and a small, zippered black bag of dubious purpose. I eyed the bag with a raised brow.

"I'm not letting you leave with your hair like that," she said.

"Oh, right. Your brother mentioned you're a beautician." I smiled. "Are you any good?"

"Kid, count yourself lucky I'm not charging for this. My haircuts are worth gold." Shizuru thrust the chair toward me. "Sit."

Shizuru cut my hair for me right there, sheet draped around my shoulders to catch spare clippings. She murmured she was sorry to see such pretty hair get burned to a crisp, but I just shrugged.

"About time I updated my look," I said. "Pigtails are pretty 'young.'"

"Yeah. And you've been wearing them for, what…five years now?"

I met her eyes in the mirror above my head. Even if she hadn't been holding a pair of very sharp scissors next to my ear, the cold, hard look she shot me would've chilled my bones regardless. As it stands, I took a deep breath and tried very hard not to look like I was about to throw up. Certainly felt like I might toss my cookies at any moment. My pulse fluttered beneath my burned skin like moths trapped under tissue paper.

"You wore them the first time we met," she continued. Shizuru ran a lock of my hair between her fingers, then sheared it with a precise snip. "On that playground. You remember, right?" A long, measured, searing stare. "And don't try to play me. I'm not my brother and I won't fall for it."

Of course she wouldn't fall for it. This was Shizuru. When it came to the preservation of my secrets, I counted her among the three most dangerous threats in this world alongside Kurama and Genkai.

Of course she recognized me.

Of course she remembered.

I'd been a fool to think she wouldn't. She'd just been waiting to bring it up until Kuwabara left the room. I'd jumped the gun, thinking I'd escaped her eagle eyes. Too distracted by Yusuke to read the signs, I guess.

"Yes," I said. Better to admit the truth than play a game with someone like Shizuru. Wearing a mask would do no good here. I met her eyes with candor. "I remember."

"Thought so." She smirked, but fondly. "Too bad my baby brother doesn't remember you."

"Well, we were a lot younger then," I said. "And you were older than us. So your memory is probably clearer."

She hummed, acknowledging my point. Her hands touched my scalp with firm delicacy. For a few minutes she cut my hair in silence. I closed my eyes.

"Was wondering when I'd see you again," she said. "So what's your deal? You stalking Kazuma or something?"

Shizuru didn't sound particularly worried, which I counted as a small victory on my part. I resisted the urge to shake my head and said, "No. Your brother and I went to the same school until recently, by chance."

She hummed again. "I heard you got kicked out."

Took a fair bit of willpower not to look uncomfortable beneath her intense scrutiny. "Yeah."

She didn't reply for a minute, concentrating on my haircut. She didn't look at me when she spoke. I guess she knew I hung on every word.

"Our family has a tendency to attract weird bullshit," she said. "We sense things. Call it intuition. I don't get anything bad from you…but you're an odd one. So I'm assuming you're sort of like us. Maybe you attract weird bullshit, too."

I couldn't help but wince. "Yeah. You could say that."

"You planning on dragging my brother into that bullshit?"

Although she spoke with casual indifference, a threat unspoken lurked beneath her calm exterior. Hurt my baby brother and you die. Shizuru didn't need to say it. I heard her loud and clear.

"I would never, ever hurt your brother," I said. "He's the best friend I have."

The scissors paused in their snipping.

"You mean that?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, instantaneously and firm. "I mean what I say."

"I remember you saying that to me before. At least you're consistent." She scowled. "Whatever your deal is, it's clear you didn't meet my brother and become friends with him by chance. Not after all these years, and not after what you said on that playground."

"I…didn't plan on being his friend." And that was the honest truth. "It just sort of happened."

She didn't react—but then she shook her head.

"Hmmph. I believe you." She looked troubled by her own admission, eyes downcast as she trimmed my hair. Soon her lips curled in a subtle smile. "Kazuma's been talking about his new friend Keiko for months now. We've been teasing him about getting a girlfriend. Was wondering when he'd bring her by. I got a nagging feeling she'd be interesting, but…I didn't expect you."

I shrugged, smile apologetic and cheesy—'yeah, I'm here, oops!' Shizuru chuckled, a low caress of throaty humor.

"Is my baby brother aware that his best friend is Volcano Girl," she asked, "or was he too busy gloating that he'd made friends with a pretty girl to notice?"

At first I only registered the compliment, ears heating under my shortening hair (hey, Shizuru was super pretty and I'd had a bit of crush on her even before seeing her in real life). Then the first part of her comment sank in. I sat up a little straighter. "Volcano Girl?"

Shizuru's eyebrows rose. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Ask him." She put down the scissors and ran her fingers through my hair, lifting the roots from the base of my scalp—it felt nice, and she stopped too quickly. "All done."

When I looked in the mirror, I didn't really look like myself anymore—well. I didn't really look like Keiko, I mean. In my old life I'd always worn my hair long. At one point it had fallen to my hips. Keiko's long hairstyle (even when worn in those despised pigtails) had felt like a callback to my previous existence. Long brown hair comforted me, as it was the one physical commonality Keiko and I possessed.

Short hair, barely brushing the collar of my borrowed t-shirt, felt and looked as foreign as waking up in a new body…OK, maybe not quite that foreign. Still felt pretty weird, though. Luckily Shizuru appeared to know what she was doing. She'd layered the bangs and side pieces to frame Keiko's delicate features, highlighting the curve of her jaw and cheekbone with silky curls. I wasn't accustomed to the hairstyle, but even I had to admit this 'do suited Keiko better than the previous.

Caught between the shock of change and feelings of appreciation, I said, "It's nice."

Shizuru's glower could melt stone. "It's fucking perfect."

"Yeah. Sorry. You're right," I amended. "It blows the pigtails out of the water."

Leaning toward the mirror, I tugged at my bangs, experimenting with their fall. When I felt eyes on me I looked up and found Shizuru staring, a frown etched lightly across her mouth. I met her stare and quirked a brow.

"Um…is something wrong?" I asked when she didn't say anything.

Shizuru flinched like I'd startled her from a deep sleep, though she covered with a laugh at her own expense. A smile haunted the corners of her mouth when she said, "Like I said a long time ago—you're not what you seem. Trying to put my finger on how." She tossed her hair. "Anyway. Like I said last time, don't hurt my baby bro."

Her earlier undercurrent of unspoken threat had faded, thank my lucky stars. Still, best not tempt fate. I nodded and said, "I care about your brother very much. I'd never let him get hurt."

Shizuru's small smile faded into solemn, contemplative examination. We stared into each other's eyes via the mirror for a quiet moment, until she ducked her head. Her smile returned, head shaking as though she'd heard a really bad joke.

"I believe you mean that," she murmured. Then she looked over her shoulder toward the bathroom door and barked, "Kazuma!"

Her voice echoed in the tiled bathroom like a gunshot. Immediately Kuwabara yelped from somewhere far off in the house; two seconds later his huge feet pounded up the stairs.

"Yeah, sis?" he said from the other side of the door.

Shizuru glided over and pushed the door open, free hand waving in my direction. "Walk your friend home."

"Oh, sure." He looked past her at me—and then his mouth fell open. He shut it just as quickly, though. "Oh. Um. A-are you ready to go already, Keiko?"

"Yeah. I need to get to the hospital soon. Atusko'll need backup." I patted my hair like someone in an infomercial and batted my eyelashes. "And I gotta show Mom my new 'do!"

Kuwabara didn't react. He stood there with knees knocked, hands awkward and stiff by his sides, eyes on me, face turning pink. Shizuru rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs—hard. I heard the thud of the impact from across the room.

"Yee-ouch!" Kuwabara said, jumping back a step. "What the heck was that for?"

Shizuru pinned him with a dead-eyed glare. "Tell the lady she looks nice, dumbass."

His eyes widened. "Oh!" And then he stared at the floor, face thoroughly reddened. "You look—very pretty, Keiko!"

Damn near thought his head would explode when he ground out the compliment, voice like rocks caught in a vacuum cleaner. I just laughed and stood up.

"Thanks," I said. I bowed low, conscious of the stinging skin beneath my bandages, of how light my head felt without all that hair to weigh it down. Bowing felt different than before, but not in a bad way. "And thank you, Shizuru, for allowing me the privilege of experiencing your hospitality."

She huffed. "Where'd Kuwabara meet you, charm school?" She turned and waved over her shoulder in clear, uncaring dismissal. "Anyway. Beat it, both of you. I need a nap. Too much excitement for one day, that's for sure..."

No arguing with Shizuru. Both Kuwabara and I knew better than to disturb her when she requested space for a nap. We exchanged a look, put our fingers over our lips at the same time, and tiptoed out of the house like mice avoiding the wrath of a certain sharp-eyed cat.


Only took me a minute to realize Kuwabara had something on his mind. His shifty eyes, grunt-like-a-caveman responses, and shuffling feet gave him away. Kuwabara couldn't hide anything from me. I knew better than to press, though. I waited, idly chatting about the day's events, letting him work through what to say without any pressure. We'd walked halfway to my house before he finally found the words he'd been looking for.

Those words apparently started with: "Um. So."

I smiled, warm and supportive. "What is it?"

"Um. The fire." He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wandering anywhere but my direction. "I was wondering…I tried to get in, to go after you, but I couldn't get past the door." He didn't seem to notice my shocked expression—he'd tried to go in after me? He'd tried to save me? Wow. Good ol' Kuwabara. He continued, "I touched the door but it was too hot to open. It didn't seem like I'd gotten there in time to help. But then I felt this weird…"

He stopped talking, shooting me a sidelong look of question, trepidation, and uncertainty. I stopped walking, glancing up and down the quiet residential street. No one nearby. Good. We could talk freely. Our only audience—aside from a certain ghost and his blue-haired companion, perhaps—was the houses lining the street, windows glinting golden in the afternoon sun.

"Yusuke saved me," I said.

Kuwabara blinked. "Yusuke…?"

"The fire…you saw it. It was blue, right?"

"Yeah." His shoulders sagged, tension draining from his eyes. "It was blue. So you saw it, too."

I hummed. "Yeah. I'd gotten burned really badly, and I had to shut my eyes against the smoke, but then…I smelled something." I smiled at that memory, even though I'd likely have nightmares of fire and smoke when I went to bed that night. "When I opened my eyes, the fire was blue, and a path to the door had cleared."

Kuwabara frowned. "What did you smell?"

"Uh…it smelled like Yusuke's hair gel." Admitting so made my ears heat a little, but I pushed the feeling of tender vulnerability aside. "I think he did something to save my life."

Kuwabara didn't speak. He just stared, face smoothing as his thoughts consumed him. I reached out and tangled my fingers in his sleeve.

"I had that dream, remember?" I said. "That he was coming back? And then this happened." I stepped close to him, voice low, urgent, and heartfelt. "Yusuke is out there. He's trying to come home—and he'll make it. I believe in him."

I thought Kuwabara would react with emotion, like he had when he first learned Yusuke had come back to life and intended to return. Instead he surprised me. He put his hand over mine and squeezed, meeting my eyes with an urgent expression of his own.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked.

I blinked. That…had come out of nowhere. The short answer was 'yes,' but only in this life and in this world. I hadn't believed in ghosts (or any supernatural phenomenon, period) in my past life. No evidence suggested its existence, so I just didn't believe.

Truth be told, in this world I hadn't yet reconciled my atheism with the supernatural shenanigans of Yu Yu Hakusho. I still considered myself an atheist, even though I knew an afterlife of some sort existed and that demigods like Koenma walked the Spirit World. It's just that despite the existence of some 'supernatural' occurrences, nothing in Yu Yu Hakusho had ever pointed to the idea of a supreme being existing. Ghosts, souls, and demons existed here, but that didn't mean a supreme being did. Koenma and his father were as flawed as any human being. They didn't fit the bill of a true god. Thus, my atheism continued.

Ghosts, however? Evidence pointed to something that fit the traditional definition of a ghost. Evidence made room in my beliefs for the supernatural. Ipso facto…

"I didn't used to believe in them," I said, because I felt I should be honest. "But now, after everything I've seen since Yusuke died…"

That slightly noncommittal answer appeared to be enough for Kuwabara. He gripped my hand tighter, mouth pulling into a thin line. Light shined through his hair. It looked like spun amber in this context, coaxing ruddy highlights from the depths of his dark, narrow eyes. In a few years he'd grow into those ridiculous cheekbones and rugged jaw, I suspected. Maybe Shizuru's teasing about him getting a girlfriend wasn't too preposterous, after all.

"Keiko. There's…something I need to tell you," he said.

I frowned. "What is it?"

"You…you're probably wondering how I knew to come by Yusuke's house when I did, right?" he said.

I hadn't been wondering—because I knew from seeing the anime that Botan and the Tickle Feeling had led him there. Now that he mentioned it, it would be logical for Keiko to wonder, because Kuwabara's presence was more than a little coincidental. I pasted on my best puzzled expression, as though the thought hadn't occurred to me until he mentioned it. I fancied even Sir Patrick Stewart would approve of my acting ability just then.

"I've been so distracted," I said. "Now that you mention it, how did you know to come by?"

He took a deep breath—and when he resettled his hand on mine, I noticed that it shook. Not dramatically, just a light tremor resonating through the length of his fingers. He licked his lips and swallowed before looking me dead in the eye.

Was Kuwabara…nervous? But what did he have to be nervous about?

"This is gonna sound crazy," he said, "but just let me talk and get it all out before writing me off as some nutjob, OK?

"I'd never do that to you," I assured him. "But OK."

"OK." Another deep breath, this time a shuddering breath that rattled in his barrel chest like nails in a jar. "Well, ya see, Keiko…I'm kind of psychic."

He told me everything, then—everything I already knew from the anime and manga, but he spoke as if revealing a secret he'd been hiding all his life, confession a popping balloon under the pressure of a sharp needle. The Tickle Feeling, seeing ghosts in his dreams, being followed by specters, phantom hands on his neck in the dark, cold whispers sending shivers down his back. He'd been experiencing it since he was a kid. People hadn't always believed him. People had mocked him for an over-active imagination and being a scaredy-cat when he didn't like being alone in the dark.

His bravado, his need to fight, his desire to be strong had all developed out of his need to protect himself, he said.

He'd gotten behind in schoolwork when concentrating became hard, and studying alone in his room at night had become impossible, he said.

"For years I've been coping however I can, but lately, the weird stuff has kicked into overdrive," he said, barely sparing time to breathe. "I'm sensing things I never sensed before. It's honestly getting ridiculous, and I just wish it would stop, y'know?" He looked exhausted just talking about it. "Sleeping is hard. Ghosts hover in my ear saying horrible things and—" He stopped, cheeks sallow, and shook his head. "Not the point. The point is I couldn't lie to you about it anymore. Since you seem chill with the whole supernatural thing, I just thought…I just thought since we're best friends, I should be honest with you. And I hope you're OK with that."

He stopped talking like a car hitting a brick wall. His chest rose and fell with near-panicked breath, eyes shining with hope and doubt and fear and supplication all at once. When I grasped his arm, the look changed. He looked at my hand like it might belong to one of the ghosts that haunted his nightly rest. My heart beat in my mouth like a drum.

"Oh, Kuwabara," I said. "I'm so sorry you've been going through that."

His chest visibly hitched. "You mean you believe me?"

"Of course I do." I offered him an empathetic smile. "You'd never lie to me, ever. And besides: My childhood friend died and came back to life and communicates with me in dreams. You seeing ghosts is not outside the realm of possibility."

"Oh," he said. His head tilted back, face toward the wintry blue sky. "Oh, thank god."

I squeezed his arm a little tighter. "Are you OK?"

He didn't look at me right away. Kuwabara blinked up at the sky until he composed himself. I didn't say a word. Take all the time you need, honey.

"It's just—no one ever believes me aside from my sister, but she doesn't count," he said, voice thick with suppressed emotion. "I don't tell people about this. They already think I'm a delinquent. But a freak on top of that?" He shook his head, eyes closing. "Okubo and the rest know about the Tickle Feeling, but even they don't know the worst of it." He tried to smile. Mostly failed. "I guess I was just afraid you'd think I'm a freak or something."

For all my forethought, planning, and knowledge of Yu Yu Hakusho...in that moment, I had no idea what to say.

It had never occurred to me that Kuwabara might not feel comfortable talking about his powers—but now that I thought about it, he'd never directly referenced them in my hearing. I hadn't considered that he might not reveal them to me until we become close, or that he might try to hide them…but this behavior made sense. The supernatural existed here, but common people didn't seem to realize it. And hell, late in the anime he'd actually tried hiding his abilities from his college classmates. There was a precedent for Kuwabara's secrecy, and I'd been too distracted by my own inside knowledge to even notice.

This confession of his was…was a sign of trust, really. A sign that he believed I wouldn't reject him, or be scared of him, or mock him like so many others.

A sign he thought I'd believe him.

I knew what that was like, needing to be believed. Needing to feel like you weren't alone, and someone was there for you.

"I'd never think you were a freak," I said when words availed themselves. I swallowed and tried to think of something clever, something empathetic, something that would wipe the haunted look from his carved features. "I wish you'd told me earlier. I could've…made you dreamcatcher or something, to keep the bad ghosts away."

He laughed at my terrible suggestion, so that was nice. At least I hadn't stepped on a rake and offended him somehow. Still, he laughed way harder than he should've. I cocked my head to the side and scowled.

"What?" I said. "Do dreamcatchers not actually work?"

"No," he chortled. "I tried making one and it didn't do nothin'. But I probably did it wrong."

"Maybe we could get a book from the library and try again."

His eyed lit up like fireworks, warming me to my core.

"Yeah," he said, "we should!"

We walked to my parents' house chattering about his experiences with the supernatural, small though they were at this early stage in his life. When he dropped me off on my front porch, his smile could've powered an entire city block. He looked at me with gratitude I couldn't fathom and promised to stop by soon. He missed studying with me, he said. It had been fun, and he wanted to keep getting better at English even though he'd passed Iwamoto's test so many weeks before.

He wanted to tell me more about the ghosts, he said, and maybe go to the library and learn more about them, now that he wasn't alone.


Kaito and Minamino stared at me for a few seconds. Kaito pushed his glasses up his nose with one deliberate finger.

"So you ran into a burning building to save...your cat," he said.

"Yup." I flipped my short hair with exaggerated conceit. "I'm a hero."

"No," he deadpanned. "You're a liar."

"But she's only lying about part of something," said Minamino (more like Kurama, given the look in his bright eye). "She's telling some truth, but not all."

I did my best not to shrink beneath his perceptive gaze. To recognize that I'd told him the truth about some things (like running into a fire) but to know I'd fudged others (like the identity of whom I'd saved)? That took skill. Kurama basically had superpowers, and not even the plant-based kind I already knew about.

Speaking of powers—what were the odds he'd ever tell me about his supernatural abilities like Kuwabara had? What would it take for me to get a confession like that? From Kuwabara the confession had been a sign of trust, but I got the feeling Kurama would not willingly tell anyone the truth of his demonic nature.

Not that I wanted him to. Our game of pun-based "chicken" was too much fun to give up, even if coming clean would simplify my life.

"Why, Minamino," Kaito said. "I didn't know you were such a psychology buff, to recognize deceit with such alacrity."

Kurama did not take his eyes off me when he murmured, "It's a hobby."

"Your other hobby appears to be prying into my personal life," I groused. I threw my hands into the air and rolled my eyes. "I ran into a burning building to save a beloved pet. What's so hard to believe about that?"

Good luck trying to find a lie in that, Kurama. I was responsible for feeding Yusuke. That basically made him my pet, didn't it?

Kurama and Kaito both still looked suspicious, but the bell rang and afforded me a reprieve from their incessant questions. Kaito, as per his custom, made sure to walk with me to a fork in the hallway and then accompany Minamino to class—still dutifully keeping Kurama and I away from each other when he could manage it, bless him.

Too bad for Kaito, Kurama and I had the last class of the day together. The redhead rapped his knuckles on my desk as soon as I slid into it and said, "Yukimura. Can you accompany me to the greenhouse after school?"

I eyed him with withering suspicion. "What, you wanna harvest my kidneys and feed it to a Venus flytrap or something?"

He coughed. "As their name purports, Venus flytraps eat flies, not kidneys."

"Yeah, I know." I patted my hair like I starred in a shampoo commercial. "But have you seen my fashion sense lately? It's pretty fly."

Kurama heaved a delicate, tired sigh at my (innocent, this time) pun. "I suppose. So can you make it?"

"Sure, sure." I stuck out my tongue when he walked away, muttering, "Sorry my puns bug you."

Of course, I spent the rest of class wondering just what the hell he wanted, puns fleeing in the shadow of looming panic. After class he approached my desk with a polite smile, then escorted me to the greenhouse without saying anything revelatory whatsoever (that boy could fill the silence with idle, diversionary smalltalk like his life depended on it). By the time we entered the greenhouse's damp heat, I still had no idea what he wanted from me, and I didn't like that one bit.

I stopped just inside the door and planted my hands on my hips. "OK, mister. What did you want to get me in here for, anyway?"

I didn't like his charming smile one bit, either. "I have a present for you," he said.

My response was as immediate as it was emphatic: "I do not accept carnivorous plants."

So was his: "And I don't grow them."

My eyes narrowed. "Why don't I believe you?"

His eyes did, too. "What are you implying?"

Ah, yes. Our game of "chicken" was still on. We stared each other for a prolonged minute, assessing each other, wondering where the line between knowing too much and revealing too much lay. Eventually I sighed and thrust out my hands, fingers curling in a grabby-hands gesture.

"Never mind," I said. "Now gimme."

He lifted a brow. "So demanding."

"Nothing like a brush with death to make a girl appreciate random gifts." More grabby hands. "Well, don't leave me in suspense. Where's my present?"

He snorted, eyes closing, lips curving. The smile did something subtle to his features, lifting and lightening them in a way that highlighted the line of his jaw and the tilt of his eye. He looked…peaceful, when he smiled. It eased a tightness I hadn't realized lingered at the edges of his mouth.

It revealed a handsomeness that, at times, I was too pun-panicked to notice.

Kurama turned away and reached beneath a table covered in flowering plants. From it he pulled a small pot. In the center of it sprouted a small succulent plant, long triangular fronds covered in spikes, green flesh dotted here and there with milky white spots.

"This is—" he said.

"Aloe vera!" I interjected. For a second I hesitated (this was a plant from Kurama, after all) but then I took the pot from him with a smile. No reason the real Keiko wouldn't take this when its intention was so obvious, and no reason for Not Quite Keiko not to take it when his previously gifted plants had proved harmless. "Thank you! For my burns, right?"

"Right." He looked oddly impressed with me, for some reason. "You've used it before?"

"Oh, all the time. Put it on all kinds of bumps and scrapes as a kid." I eyed the little plant with fondness, burned flesh itching and stinging now that I was thinking about it. "It grew out back of my Grandma's house. She would always take cuttings and put them on sunburns."

"Interesting." Kurama studied me a moment. "It doesn't grow wild in Japan."

Uh oh. Shit. Leave it to a reference to my past to give me away. Ironic, really, when that's what I hoped to do to Kurama with all my puns.

"Well," I covered. "It wasn't wild. She planted it there." I changed the subject by bowing, pot held carefully upright. "Anyway. Thanks! I'll pop a cutting in the fridge for a bit and use it as a treatment on my burns tonight."

My lie seemed to satisfy the fox, although I confess it was hard to tell for sure. He smiled and said, "I hope you recover in short order. And oh, Yukimura?"

I paused midway to the door. "Hmm?"

"Your new haircut." A long pause, followed by a very stiff: "It…suits you."

I stared at him. He didn't move. In fact, he looked rather uncomfortable all of a sudden—like complimenting me hadn't been part of his original plan, and he didn't yet know how to handle his own actions.

Still. I'd never heard a compliment so forced before.

"Wow," I deadpanned. "What an effusive commendation. Such a ringing endorsement of my new hair. I brim with confidence in the wake of your approval."

That produced another of those light-bringing smile of his. "Apologies. Allow me to amend my statement." His eyes glittered like leaves fallen in a clear mountain stream. "It looks lovely on you, Yukimura-san."

I might've been older than I looked, but even I wasn't immune to the effects of a compliment from someone as attractive as Kurama. I covered the hitch in my breathing and the blush in my cheeks by sticking out my tongue—and concocting a rather daring pun, if I do say so myself.

"You're just happy to have the longest hair in the group again, you silver-haired bastard—sorry." I waved an apologetic hand, gosh-golly-gee, how silly of me to confuse that idiom. "Meant to say silver-tongued. Consider that a slip of mine."

He shook his head, still smiling—but the dangerous edge I expected to see in his eye stayed dull, unfocused, and distant. Huh. How weird.

"Of course it was." He turned toward the depths of the greenhouse. "See you tomorrow, Yukimura. And please. Avoid any more burning buildings, if you can."

"Will do, captain." I saluted. "See you tomorrow."

I left the greenhouse that day feeling proud of my pun. By the time I reached home, however, I'd begun to wonder why it hadn't elicited more of a reaction from the suspicious, taciturn fox. It had been the most in-your-face pun to date, by my reckoning, but he had merely smiled when I said it. That was weird, right?

Too bad I didn't have time to ponder what might be happening behind the scenes, to account for his distracted response. The restaurant was in full swing when I got home, and between running tables and finishing homework (not to mention talking with Atsuko on the phone about her move to a new apartment) I didn't have a moment's respite before falling into bed.

Not even my dreams gave me a moment to wonder, to think, to deliberate.

That night Yusuke took center stage in my dreams—and on that imagined stage, he glowed the color gold and asked me to kiss him back to life.


NOTES:

In manga canon, Keiko meets Shizuru after the fire. Shizuru, a beautician in manga canon, trimmed Keiko's burnt hair. I wanted to explore how that meeting might have gone down, even if this is NQK and not Real!Keiko. Yay for exploring the unexplored!

Kuwabara hides his gifts in late manga chapters (from his college peers, mostly), so I expanded on that concept here. I doubt he'd broadcast his abilities to anyone but his close friends. That's why in a very early chapter he asked if Keiko had prophetic dreams, and why he looked disappointed when she said no. He was hoping he'd found a buddy.

Also, that put at the end was very bold. But there's a reason Kurama didn't react.

Also-also: Two new Kurama scenes have been added to Children of Misfortune (one from Kurama's POV, one a deleted scene of banter between him and NQK; Hiei appears in the former).

Also-also-also: the first chapter of a new story is up. It's Not Quite Keiko and Not Quite Kagome travelling to the past together, way before Kagome's canon should start. Will explore the reality of NQKagome's situation. Check it out if you're curious! Will be a short fic but I hope you like it.

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