Warnings: None

NOTE: 1) The first section deals with an oracle from Greek myth. I learned of her in a college course on moral philosophy and wrote the details of her fortune-telling method/the origin 'horns of a dilemma' as I recalled them, but I'm having trouble finding a source to cite. Even if my details are inaccurate, the point gets across, and it sort of remains true to my character since those are the facts I would've recalled in a world without Google (AKA Keiko's world) or the ability to immediately fact-check myself. Thanks/sorry as needed! 2) Keiko uses the Japanese idiom "猿も木から落ちる" in this chapter, translated as "even monkeys fall from trees." AKA, everybody makes mistakes.


Lucky Child

Chapter 34:

"One Crisis at a Time"


In ancient Greece, kings consulted oracles for guidance in times of trial. The methods of the oracles were as many and they were inscrutable. Some inhaled smoke from volcanic vents and felt the gods sing in their blood. Others drank broths of hallucinogenic herbs and heard spirits whispering in the dark. Others read the whim of fate in the entrails of slaughtered birds. Still more beheld destiny in cups of curdled blood, flights of high-flying vultures, or scatterings of polished stones.

The oracle of the temple of Minos consulted the gods with the help of a bull. With the dilemma of a king held tight in her head, she ran at a charging bull, animal and oracle barreling headlong at one another down the track of a narrow chute. At the last moment she would place her hands on the bull's head and vault—flying like a scrap of silk on the wind—between its razor horns.

In the exact moment she passed between the horns, the answer to the king's riddle would flash certain inside her mind, a god filling her hollow head when it emptied from terror and adrenaline.

Many young oracles died on the horns of the bull—on the horns of the dilemma they attempted to solve.

That day, staring at Yusuke's empty room, I found myself caught on the horns of a dilemma of my own. Unlike the kings of ancient Greece, I had no oracle to consult for guidance—no oracle but my own logic, leaping figuratively above the head of destiny's charging steer.

Was it happening today?

Was today the day Spirit World recruited Yusuke?

Eikichi had been in Kuwabara's life for two weeks. Yusuke's unprecedented recovery was near its end. I hadn't heard from Kuwabara; Eikichi could very well have been kidnapped. Yusuke could very well be on his unwitting way to them, where he'd spy a lawbreaking demon and catch it even before Botan informed him of the crime.

If today was that day, I shouldn't get in the way.

But if today wasn't that day—

I couldn't risk it. Yusuke couldn't risk his recovery being set back by some wild, reckless desire for a premature fight.

Running over every option in my head, every scrap of information, every last detail I recalled from Yu Yu Hakusho's pages and painted cells, I turned and sprinted out the door.

I have no way of knowing, but I suspect the oracles of Minos would envy my speed that day.


I'd run to four nearby cafes by the time I realized how stupid I was. There was a much easier way of determining Yusuke's fate, and it didn't involve frantic and fruitless searching through the local restaurant scene. Cursing, I located the nearest payphone and dialed Kuwabara. Shizuru answered on the second ring and didn't sound at all surprised to hear from me.

"Yeah, he's upstairs," she said when I asked for her brother. "Doing homework." A rustle as she put her hand over the receiver. "Bro, phone call!"

Kuwabara trundled down the stairs in short order and only sounded a little confused when I asked how Eikichi was doing. "Um, she's fine. Just put her down for a nap a few minutes ago. But why—"

"Oh, her cute little face popped into my head and I wanted to check in, is all," I said, masking my relief with humor. If Eikichi was fine, she hadn't been kidnapped, which meant today was not the day Yusuke got recruited by Spirit World. Good. I still had time.

But if not with Kuwabara, then where the fuck was Yusuke?

To be honest, this was much worse than discovering the Plot had started.

"Are you OK?" Kuwabara said.

Leave it to him to sense my mood even through a phone call. "No, Kuwabara, I'm not. Yusuke flew the coop. We have no idea where he went."

"What?! Why the heck didn't you start with that, Keiko!?" A thud and a curse as Kuwabara probably tried to run for the door. "Where are you? I'll be there in, like, two minutes or whatever! We gotta find 'im!"

More relief flooded me because oh my god, yes please: backup! I gave him directions; we agreed to search the neighborhood from opposite ends and meet up at Yusuke's house if we didn't find him in between. Divide and conquer, as it were. I hung up the phone with heart beating in my mouth, like I'd tried to eat a frog that hadn't yet left its mortal coil.

Part of me wished today was the day Yusuke got recruited. At least then I'd have an inkling as to where he'd gone. I left the phone booth without knowing anything, flying blind as I began my patrol through the neighborhood. No telling where Yusuke had run off to, but—

Wait. Actually, I did have an idea where he might've gone…and it wasn't anywhere inside the nice, picket-fence-and-flowerbeds neighborhood Atsuko had moved to after the fire destroyed her former house.

Steeling myself for graffiti and the leers of strangers, I turned my feet downtown.


I found Yusuke in an alley, in the most dangerous neighborhood he could access without a train pass. Stumbled upon him completely by chance, thank my lucky stars. After fifteen dark alleys and two narrow-misses with men who wanted to "show me a good time" (both of whom now sported black eyes and swollen testicles, thank you very much), I located him standing over the motionless forms of three unconscious dudes. He looked over his shoulder when I accidentally kicked a soda can. For a second I thought he might fly at me and attack, but his eyes widened when the sight of my face sank in.

"K-Keiko?" Yusuke said.

"What, you were expecting Bugs Bunny?" I deadpanned.

"Heh. No." He shrugged—and then he winced. He dropped to a knee with a grunt, hand cupping his ankle. "Shit. Those fuckers hit harder than I thought."

I eyed the men on the ground. "Really? They look pretty skinny to me." They certainly weren't any bigger than punks Yusuke had beat down in days of yore. "You sure you're just, y'know…not ready to actually be fighting again, dumbass?!"

He winced again, though not from pain. "Oh, shut, ya old nag." He stood and stepped toward me, but his leg buckled and he went sprawling. "Aw, hell!"

Couldn't help but roll my eyes. "My point exactly. You've gone and twisted something."

"Yeah, your panties into a bunch, maybe!"

"Charming." I walked to Yusuke, turned my back, and dropped to a knee right there in the dirty alley. "Here."

I didn't need to see his face to know he looked freaked because said, "What the fuck?" and that was all I needed.

Hands by my ankles, I flapped my fingers. "Hop on."

Took a minute for my meaning to click, but when it did Yusuke said, "No. No! No way in hell am I letting you carry me." His utterly aghast tone made me laugh. "Not happening, Keiko!"

I shrugged. "It's either that or you sleep in this alley."

"Oh gee, whaddaya know, this place is looking cozier by the second," he whined. Comedy faded into censure. "You're not carrying me piggyback like some little kid!"

"Fine." I stood, turned, and brushed off the front of my pants. "Kuwabara will do it."

Yusuke—still sitting on the ground—stared up at me with wide eyes. I smirked.

"He's on his way," I said. "If you won't let me carry you, then I guess he'll have to do the honors."

"Like hell he will!" Yusuke snapped. He dragged a hand through his hair with a groan. "Aw man, he'd be even more embarrassing!"

"Is that right?" I inspected my fingernails as though painfully bored by the whole affair. I refused to let my burgeoning smile make an appearance. "So who's it gonna be? Me or Kuwabara?"

Yusuke debated his prospects (for a humorous length of time, I might add) before sighing and throwing up his hands.

"Ugh, fine! You can do it!" He pointed at me, glare sharp. "But if anyone sees this, you're letting me down so I can beat them into amnesia, all right?"

I snorted and sank into another crouch. "Fat chance. Now climb on."

Yusuke, grumbling all the while, wrapped his arms around my neck and climbed inch by inch onto my back. I hooked my arms under his knees and grit my teeth as his full weight settled against my spine. Grunting, I said, "Oof. I thought people lost weight in comas."

"Hey!" he squawked. "It's all muscle!"

"Well, it certainly isn't brain tissue that's weighing you down." I stood up and walked out of the alley, mindful of my steps because taking a tumble with Yusuke on my back would probably hurt. I glanced over my shoulder so he could see the full breadth of my scowl. "Seriously, what were you thinking, running off like that to pick a fight? You're not ready yet, dumbass."

"Those guys on the ground?" Yusuke asked with obvious pride. "Yeah. They'd disagree with your little assessment."

I stopped so I could hop in place, jouncing Yusuke. "Think they'd disagree if they were awake to see this?"

Yusuke grumbled, forehead pressing into my shoulder with a crackle of hair gel. "Hey, don't be mean to an invalid."

"Invalid? Who, you? The backstreet brawler?" I tilted my chin with a hearty 'harrumph'. "I don't feel sorry for you one bit. You brought this on yourself."

"Keiko, c'mon! Cut me some slack!"

"Make me!"

I thought that would be the end of it. I thought wrong. Yusuke didn't react for a second. Then he ripped one of his arms from around my neck and dug his fingers into my ribcage. I squealed and bucked and listed to one side, threatening to abandon Yusuke right there on the street for that indignity. The sound of our squabbles filled the air until the task of carrying Yusuke's heavy ass became too much. I stopped talking and concreated on my breath, on regulating the energy in my body so I didn't lose strength before we reached home.

Eventually, he broke the silence with a tone much softer than before. "Hey, Keiko?" he said.

I hummed in recognition.

"…thanks."

He sounded like he had when we were kids, petulant yet grudgingly grateful when I gave him a popsicle after we'd had a row. I shut my eyes and smiled, though only briefly. Didn't want to run into a pole. Yusuke would never let me live that down.

"Don't mention it," I returned.

He took my command to heart. We didn't speak until we reached the foot of Atsuko's apartment building, where he asked me to put him down. I helped him walk to the building, using a fireman's carry to keep him off his damaged ankle. Good thing, too, because as soon as we started hobbling up the steps toward home, Kuwabara appeared like a jack-in-the-box at the top of the stairs.

"You found him!" he said, eyes like dinner plates. "Keiko, you found him!"

"Yeah, yeah, she's got a nose like a bloodhound," Yusuke grumbled. "Now help me up the goddamn stairs before I—"

"Yusuke!?"

Atsuko appeared, then, wild-eyed and tangle-haired. Clearly she'd been tugging at it in her worry over Yusuke; nervous habit of hers. She shoved Kuwabara aside (he squawked, but didn't protest) and vaulted down the steps two at a time. At the last second she threw herself atop her son, arms tight around his neck as she rubbed her cheek against his crackling hair. Even though she wore a grin wide enough to split her cheeks, tears streamed unchecked down her red face.

"Yusuke, Yusuke, oh, my baby!" Atsuko blubbered. "I was so worried!"

"Jeez, Mom!" Yusuke struggled to break free, pushing her away to absolutely no avail. Woman had a hug like a boa constrictor. "I'm fine, OK? What's with the waterworks?"

She snuffled and let out an enormous wail. "I w-was worried you'd l-left me because I'm such a bad muh, muh, mo-ther! Or that you'd d-died" (she almost choked on the word) "and I'd be all alone, and—"

Yusuke looked thoroughly embarrassed by the situation. He awkwardly patted Atsuko on the back and allowed her to cry into his hair with expression most longsuffering.

"I'm not gonna get killed again, Mom. Jeez," he said. "I just wanted a bit of fresh air, that's all! Can't blame a guy for needing a change of pace, can ya?"

I winced. Wrong move, buddy.

As soon as Yusuke finished speaking, Atsuko's tears dried up. She stood up and glared at her son, face a looming stormcloud.

"Fresh air?" she demanded. "Fresh air? You left and nearly gave me a hearty attack so you could get some fresh air?!"

Yusuke shrank away from her, toward me, as if expecting me to shield him. "Um, Keiko? Save me?"

"Not on your life," I said.

Atsuko lunged and grabbed Yusuke in a headlock, proceeding to give him the single most painful-looking noogie I have ever witnessed. He yelped and screeched and cursed, but I could barely hear him under the sound of Atsuko's furious tirade.

"Don't you ever worry me like that again, you little shit!" she bellowed. "I didn't bring you into the world so you could run around and give people heart attacks and pick fights and get hit by goddamn cars and—!"

She lapsed back into crying eventually, then yelled some more, then cried even harder. Only when a few curious neighbors poked their heads from their apartment doorways did Atsuko drag Yusuke inside by the ear (he hopped on one foot the whole way behind her) to continue her polemic in private.

Eventually, however, Atsuko's maternal instinct overcame her anger. She cooked dinner (for once), insisting Yusuke eat a double portion to help regain his strength. Although she continued to needle at Yusuke throughout the night, in quiet moments I caught her gazing at him with a soft smile, eyes glimmering with affection she hadn't taken much time to express before his coma.

She knew better now than to underestimate the time they had together.

Even though that dinner came out a little burned, it tasted a whole lot like love.


I stayed at Yusuke's place late that night, then had to stay up even later to do the homework I'd neglected while looking for his sorry ass. I got to school just before they closed the gates, thank my lucky stars, and found Junko waiting by the shoe cubby in the school's foyer. She watched with pursed lips as I exchanged my outdoor shoes for my interior slippers.

"You OK?" I asked as we started for class.

"I'm good," she said. "But listen—I have a weird question."

"Um. OK? Name it."

She took a deep breath—but the bell rang, cutting her off. She cursed and passed a hand through her bangs.

"Ugh, never mind," she said. We'd reached a branch in the hallway; she took one way, and I took another. "I'll see you in class later, OK?"

"…OK," I muttered. How weird. She looked really bothered by something. I watched her disappear around the corner before heading for class—but it turns out I needed to watch where I was going, instead. I turned around and ran smack into Kaito, of all people. He bore my glare with stoic dispassion as I narrowly avoided falling over.

"Not yet awake, Yukimura?" he said. He adjusted his glasses. "You should be aware that I will be late to lunch today."

"Uh—OK?"

He nodded and walked away with no further explanation.

Well. This was a weird start to my day. Taking cues from my friends, I headed for class and tried not to think about Junko and Kaito's odd behaviors…although it was hard. It wasn't like Kaito to give me updates on his schedule (or even break his own routines, natch). Notoriously independent, that guy. And Junko had looked super bothered by something. I hadn't talked to her since the previous week, so what could possibly be up?

But neither of their behaviors bothered more than the realization I'd be eating lunch with Kurama alone. At least part of lunch, anyway. What I wouldn't give for Kuwabara to provide backup again, like he had the night before. I tried very hard not to think about any dire outcomes (of which my brain concocted many) that could result from alone-time with Kurama. Would only stress myself out, and that was not a headspace I wished to occupy when dealing with a certain fox. Instead I meditated on the walk over to lunch, bento in hand, cultivating a calm mind before joining Kurama on the stairwell.

Minamino, I reminded myself.

I was joining mild, polite Minamino on the stairwell, not a demon who could do me harm.

Yeah.

Nothing to fear here, Keiko. Pretty sure foxes could smell fear…

"Hey," I greeted. Minamino sat on the third step, as always, food resting atop his knees. I moved to the window ledge, as always, and began unpacking my meal (leftovers from Atsuko's dinner the night before). "Kaito said he'd be late."

Minamino's green eyes held nothing but gentle curiosity, which I found infinitely freaky. "Ah. Did he say why?"

"Not sure. He was unforthcoming." I sighed and leaned against the window, pane cool at my back. "Wish he'd hurry up and get here…"

When Minamino lifted one thin brow, I realized my complaint was just the littlest bit insulting. I'd basically implied lunch wasn't enjoyable with only Minamino's company. Argh. That already wasn't going well.

"Sorry. It's not you," I said. "I need Kaito's help with something and I don't like waiting."

"I see." He smiled, helpful and open. Suspicious. "Perhaps I can be of assistance."

"Well, it's something in Kaito's very specific wheelhouse," I hedged. "So I don't know if…y'know. You'd even be interested."

"Unless you possess the enviable ability to read minds," came Minamino's dry reply, "I'm afraid we can only determine if I'm interested if you tell me what's troubling you."

He was right, dammit—but maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Minamino had lived a singularly long life. Maybe he was an even better authority on antique literature than Kaito. Although this was Human World literature, so…but then again, maybe some fairy tales had demonic sources. That'd be neat, for sure. But was it smart to involved Kurama in this?

As I thought about it, I hoped my hesitation didn't look too out of place, too knowing or too serious. Minamino studied me, green eyes at brilliant odds with his red-black hair and alabaster skin. Eventually his eyes shut, lashes fluttering dark against his cheek. I cut him off just as his lips moved.

"Sorry. It's just…kind of embarrassing?" I said. He frowned; I shrugged, scratching the back of my neck. "But I guess you did tell me that story one time, so maybe…know anything about fairy tales?"

My line of inquiry surprised him, if the bemused smile was any indication. His eyes glittered with amusement when he said, "Some things. Why?"

"It's…hard to explain." Asking Kurama for information on fairy tales wouldn't reveal anything about my secrets. Not so long as I worded my questions with care. "Basically, I grew up hearing certain fairy tales, and I tried looking for them again but I can't find them. Like, at all." I traced the edge of my open bento, plastic cool and firm under my fingertip. "I'm wondering if I just made them up."

"Interesting," he said. "Which stories in particular, may I ask?"

"Well, there were a lot of them. Mostly European stories like the Brothers Grimm and Aesop's Fables."

"Aesop?" Minamino pronounced the word like it didn't quite fit in his mouth.

"Yeah—you haven't heard of him?"

"Can't say I have."

"Huh." I traced the bento a little harder. The plastic bit into the pad of my finger. "Weird."

Minamino offered me an apologetic smile, but the hollow ache in my throat didn't ease. Part of me sought to pin Minamino's ignorance on his identity as a demon, but while Minamino wasn't exactly human, neither was he completely lacking in curiosity or basic observational skills. Guy had a mind like a sharpened thorn. Perhaps on some level he disdained human culture, but he wasn't the type to forget something once he heard it. He'd had to learn and observe human culture to blend in, after all—so no. He wasn't a stranger to Aesop because he was a stranger to humanity.

If Kurama didn't know Aesop, I'd bet my hat not many other people would know Aesop, either.

Kurama had no way of knowing I'd already come to that conclusion, however. He looked unerringly helpful when he suggested, "Maybe I would recognize a story if you told me one. A title, perhaps?"

He had a point. Maybe further investigation was in order, after all. I told him, "Aesop fables all involve animals. They have a lesson or moral at the end, most of the time." I thought on it a minute. "Some of the more famous ones are the Lion and the Mouse, and the Tortoise and the Hare."

Surely he'd heard of those, right? Those were incredibly famous…so why had his helpful smile turned to a look of soft puzzlement? My mouth dried as I stared at him.

"What about the Boy Who Cried Wolf?" I said. "Or the Fox and the Grapes?"

Minamino's eyes flashed, at that. His back straightened. Kurama appeared in the space between breaths like a predator appearing from the underbrush. My breath caught in my throat—shit. Why had I picked that fable out of all of them? Bad move, bad move. Cover story, Keiko, quick!

"Oh, you have to know the Fox and the Grapes," I said with an exaggerated roll of my eyes. "It's the one where the hungry fox sees some tasty grapes on a vine, but he can't reach them, so he puts on a show saying they're probably sour, anyway. The moral is people often belittle the things they're jealous of, to make themselves feel better. That's where the expression…"

The expression 'sour grapes' fizzled on my tongue—because I'd almost said it in English.

Because the Japanese translation…I didn't know what it was.

And that was really fucking weird, lemme tell ya. I'd been speaking Japanese for fourteen years. I could translate the words 'grapes' and 'sour' no problem, but the literal translation didn't possess the same nuances the English expression held—because, well, as far as I knew, 'sour grapes' just wasn't an expression I'd heard used in this lifetime.

That realization, as sudden as it was striking, rendered me speechless.

'Sour grapes' had been an incredibly common idiom on my old life. Why hadn't that carried over to this new one? This idiom hadn't come up before, but now that I was thinking on it, I couldn't recall a single person ever using the phrase 'sour grapes' in Keiko's lifetime. Aesop, an ancient Greek slave and storyteller, surely existed in this world, right? Why hadn't his work entered common usage?

Was this just…Japan, maybe? Would the expression be used in other cultures, where ancient Greek stories were maybe more common?

What did this mean, if anything? Was I overthinking it?

Just what the fuck was happening here, anyway?

Kurama was frowning at me at that point. I tugged on my bangs, trying to hide my inner turmoil with an awkward smile.

"Sorry," I said. "Had to translate. We get the expression 'sour grapes' from that story."

Kurama nodded, absorbing this—but then his earlier smile, the one of calm apology and regret, reappeared. At least that look of suspicion had eased…

"I've never heard that expression," he said.

I blinked at him like a surprised owl, mouth working around empty air.

"You…you haven't heard that expression before?" I asked.

"Not that I recall," he said.

"How weird." Chin cupped in hand, I stared at the floor and leaned back against the window. The cold pane on my spine grounded me, chasing the cotton of muffling anxiety out of my churning thoughts. OK. So this confirmed, at the very least, that the expression hadn't carried over to Japan in this reality. "How weird."

"Why is it weird, exactly?"

The edge in Kurama's voice skated across my skin, even colder than the wintry window at my back. He stared at me with eyes like carved jade. The edge in them glimmered, intense and penetrating and impossible to ignore. Uh oh. I'd spoken too soon. His suspicions hadn't been allayed at all.

"Um." I fidgeted in place, unable to look away from Kurama's sharp eyes. "Uh…"

My bumbling didn't please him, apparently. He scowled, an menacing look on his delicate features. With silken precision he asked, "Why is it so odd that I don't know the story the Fox and the Grapes?"

I truly hadn't meant to make a pun today, but…even monkeys fall form trees, I guess. You made a mistake, Keiko; now get up and move on. Make more cover. More coincidence to cover my mistake—not that that was hard to do just then. Mentioning that story hadn't been a calculated act.

"I thought that story was really common," I said, because it was the absolute truth and hopefully he could sense my sincerity. "Like, super common. But the expression from that story is mostly said in English, so…sorry." I shook my head and sighed, sagging in my seat, trying to look innocently disheartened. Kurama's sharp scrutiny did not waver; curse my terrible luck. "Really, sorry for dragging you into this. I think I'm just confused."

"You are? That's a change."

I flinched as a new voice echoed in the stairwell, but it merely belonged to Kaito. He stood on the upper landing and stared at us down the bridge of his long nose. I glowered, noting from the corner of my eye that Kurama had put away his dangerous expression—for the time being, anyway. He was back to being Minamino now that we had company.

"There you are," I said to Kaito. "And me being confused is a change from what, exactly?"

He trotted down the steps, sat, and pulled a customary book from his bag. "You've been awfully chipper lately," he said.

My head tilted to one side. "I have?"

"Yes. You have been ever since we came back from winter break," he said, sounding utterly disinterested in that fact. But I knew Kaito wouldn't have brought up that weird observation for no reason. What was he getting at?

Ah, well. Best give him something to chew on. I flipped my hair and smirked.

"Hm. Weird," I said. "Guess I must have had a really good break."

Kaito's lips pursed; he didn't like being baited.

"Well. Anyway." I looked between my two friends and decided it was high time I changed the subject away from Aesop. Best engage Kaito on the subject without an ornery fox present. "We haven't talked about it yet, but how were your winter breaks?"

"Fine." Kaito shrugged, opening his book and holding it so I couldn't read his expression. "I read. It was relaxing."

"Nerd," I said, but with affection. Typical Kaito. "And you, Minamino?"

"I spent the holiday with my mother," he said, tone neutral despite the subject matter. "Though at one point I took a small trip with friends."

I did my best to keep all traces of pity out of my smile (and I did my best not to ask questions about that trip, because maybe it was a scouting mission for to prepare for robbing Spirit World, but Keiko wouldn't know about that, now would she?). I said, "That sounds nice, Minamino."

"It was." He did not seem eager to expound upon his activities, for he turned to Kaito with obvious interest. "What did you read, Kaito?"

"A treatise on literary theory," Kaito said. He thumbed through his book without making eye contact. "But it matters little. I suppose you're wondering why I was late to lunch today."

Minamino and I exchanged a look. Kaito had a self-absorbed streak we'd mutually decided was sort of hilarious to mess with. We shrugged in unison, adopting expressions of mild boredom.

"I hadn't given it much thought," I said.

"Your business if your own, after all," Minamino added.

Minamino and I both ducked our heads, trying to hide our laughter. Kaito finally looked up from his book with a scowl. "Ha. Very funny. But I regret to inform you that it is your business—for Yukimura, at least."

My head jerked up. Kaito smirked.

"After overhearing a bit of gossip," he said, "I had to consult the rumor mill on a certain matter."

"And here I thought you despised teenage melodrama," I muttered, shaking my head. "What exactly did you consult the rumor mill about?"

"Why you've been so cheerful since we came back to school."

I could do little more than stare at him. This whole 'you've been cheerful' thing had come out of nowhere, and why he was so invested in my emotional state boggled the mind.

"And you couldn't just…I dunno, ask me why I was feeling cheerful?" I said.

He shrugged. "I wished to collect all pertinent evidence before hearing an anecdotal account."

"How very logical of you," Minamino interjected, tone arid, "but I agree with Yukimura. If you have a question, asking it would be the most expedient method of obtaining an answer."

"I suppose. But I like being informed." Kaito pinned me with a dead-fish stare. "So tell me, Yukimura. Is it true a certain friend of yours has come back from the dead?"

For a second his words refused to sink in.

When they did, my jaw sank near to the floor.

How the ever-loving fuck had Kaito—?

"I withhold his name for the sake of privacy, of course," Kaito said, with a sidelong glance at Minamino (who was looking utterly shocked at that moment, I must say). He lifted his book when I didn't immediately reply. "I see you need time to order your reaction. I will wait."

Minamino's head snapped in my direction. I met his eyes, still unable to speak. Dimly I knew it was good Kaito hadn't said Yusuke's name, and that because of this maybe Kurama wouldn't connect Yusuke to me when they finally did meet, but beyond that…

"Where the fuck did you hear that rumor?" I grated out.

"The rumor mill," Kaito said, as if it were obvious. "So is it true, then?"

Minamino, a person who loved being in control as he was, didn't enjoy being out of the loop. Brows raised like questions across his forehead, he asked, "Your friend…?"

I took a deep breath and chose my words with care. "Remember that friend of mine who died?"

Green eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"Well…he didn't exactly 'die.' Or rather, he did die, but he…got better?"

I trailed off and took another deep breath. Minamino and Kaito waited with twin expressions, impatience waging war with their desires to interrogate—Kaito to learn the truth behind a rumor, Minamino to hear of the extraordinary.

It occurred to me, in some deep recess of my semi-panicked brain, that perhaps the idea of resurrection would interest Kurama in a particularly noteworthy way. Too bad I was about to disappoint him.

"For a while there we really did think my friend was dead," I intoned, telling the usual cover-story, "but it turns out the paramedics missed his pulse. Right before we stuck him in a cremation oven, someone realized he was breathing. He was in a coma. And he was in that coma until just recently."

Minamino and Kaito stared as they worked through what I'd told them. Eventually Kaito closed his eyes.

"That's unbelievable," he said.

"Yeah." I nodded, looking at Minamino with a smile—a smile of genuine happiness at the memory of Yusuke's return. He responded with a smile of his own, automatic and perhaps a touch uncertain. "Yeah. It is."

"No. I mean I really don't believe it." Kaito's eyes opened, glaring as if he could wring from me some other form of truth. "What kind of incompetent medical personnel—?"

"The kind who are likely paying quite a lot of money to cover the family's emotional damages, I should think," Minamino cut in. His smooth voice held a breath of humor, but underneath I detected a diamond edge. "Yukimura has no reason to lie about this, Kaito."

Mollified, Kaito ducked his chin and grumbled. I shot a look of thanks in Minamino's direction; he nodded in return.

"Yup. Minamino's got it," I said. "My friend's mom bankrolled a new condo off the hospital, in fact." This was true; Atsuko had had no reservations about allowing the hospital to cut her a check for their apparent oversight. Obviously there was no way for her to tell them about Spirit World. "And to answer your question about my apparent good cheer—my friend woke up from his coma just before winter break."

Setting my bento aside, I pulled my knee to my chest, arranging my skirt so I wouldn't accidentally flash Minamino and Kaito my underpants. Although I hadn't noticed being in a better mood lately, it stood to reason that maybe I'd been just a bit more smiley, a bit less anxious now that Yusuke was back and gaining strength. Leave it to Kaito to notice, right? But then again, how was I supposed to be sad in the wake of a goddamn miracle?

"For a long time we weren't sure he ever would wake up again," I said. "It was months of…nothing. No hope, no idea if we'd get him back. We just cared for him and tried not to lose faith. It was agonizing." Chin on knee, eyes downcast, I replayed the moment Yusuke had opened his eyes. My lips couldn't help but curl. "But then he woke up. He's stuck in physical therapy and hating it, but still. He's alive. My best friend is alive." With a cheesy grin I fought down the sudden ache in my throat, the out-of-nowhere pricking in my eyes. "So, yes. I do suppose I've been cheerful lately, Kaito, but I'd like to think I deserved that modicum of Christmas cheer."

Kaito's lips pursed. Minamino smiled—a larger smile than normal. Even a bit of teeth showed behind his otherwise demure lips. Pretty sure it was the biggest smile I'd seen from him yet. It did things to his eyes that made them sparkle. Light from the window struck the ruddy highlights in his hair, the contrast of red and green coaxing the color of his irises into brilliant, jewel-like relief.

"I'm very happy for you, Yukimura," he said. "That's wonderful news."

I ducked my chin, hiding pink cheeks behind my knee. "Thanks, Minamino."

"I am happy for you as well," said Kaito, not wanting to be outdone. "I imagine this comes as great relief to your friend's family."

"It does," I said with a glance at my bento. The charred chicken and overcooked rice inside it bore the telltale signs of Atsuko's loving handiwork. "It's just him and his mom, and man, you should see her. I look like an emotionless robot next to her. She was shattered when he died, just shattered, but now…she's like a different person." Reaching into the bento, I plucked a morsel between my fingers and rested it on my tongue. Even beneath the layer of burn it tasted very much of a mother's love. "It's not just my friend who came back to life. It's like his mom's been reborn, too."

"A parent should never have to bury their child," Kaito said. He spoke low and soft, with gravity I wasn't used to hearing from the sarcastic genius. "No wonder you're cheerful."

"Yeah," I said. "No wonder."

I took another bite of Atsuko's cooking, beaming with cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk—only when I looked to Minamino, the food turned to ash in my mouth.

Today was a day of firsts, it seemed. If earlier I'd seen Kurama's most earnest smile, now I was seeing…I wasn't sure what, and that uncertainty sent a spike deep into my gut. His smile had gone, replaced by brittle silence, eyes like fragile malachite beneath a fringe of ruby bang. A frown ghosted the corners of his mouth; pain, masked only barely by carefully cultivated neutrality, haunted his hollow eyes like specters in the dark.

But why—?

Oh.

Oh, Keiko. You stupid, stupid asshole.

I'd just been talking about mothers, shattered by the deaths of their sons. And if he was planning what I thought he was planning, he was planning on leaving his mother very soon, and—

Sensing me, he lifted his eyes. Between one second and the next an expressionless veil settled over his face, hiding that horrible, broken look from me completely. Still, I knew what I'd seen. I knew that look—and the emotions that had inspired it—had to linger somewhere. I choked down my food and turned to Kaito, clawing desperately for the quickest subject change I was capable of concocting. Probably set some sort of record.

"Anyway," I said. Even though it was incredibly rude, I pointed my chopsticks at Kaito like they were torture implements. Maybe making a fool of myself would distract Kurama, or something, from the storm brewing behind his pretty face. "I repeat: How the fuck did you hear about my friend? I don't like being part of the rumor mill and the family hasn't released information about my friend publicly, so spill it, mister!"

"Easy," Kaito said, without a single trace of shame. "I heard via eavesdropping. I overheard your friend Junko telling a classmate—Amagi, I believe—that she had to speak to you about your friend. She sounded quite confused by the whole affair. But spontaneous resurrection will do that to a person, I imagine."

"OK. And how did she hear about my friend?"

"Apparently certain ne'er-do-wells at this school engaged in fisticuffs with his ghost." Kaito shrugged, smile smug. "Or his twin brother. But logical dictates both of those events are unlikely."

My brow lifted of its own accord. "Oh, and coming back to life is more likely?"

"It is when paired with your reluctance to speak of his death in the first place." Kaito adjusted his glasses, still wearing that smirk. "You were remarkably reluctant to discuss him when we first met. I deduced there must be more to the situation given your reticence to discuss it, although I confess I asked if he had come back to life mostly in jest."

I stared at him. Because if he was telling the truth, did that mean I could have denied that my friend had come back, and Kaito would have believed me? I could've hidden Yusuke's truth just a little longer, had I been more in control of my reactions?

"…you were joking?" I asked.

Kaito's lips pursed. He hefted his book a little higher. "Yes. I am capable of such things, you know."

Unable to process that I'd been played, and unwilling to admit just how badly I'd bungled this conversation, I used my chopsticks to fling a bit of rice at Kaito's smug face. The dollop of concealed starch splatted against his glasses; I raised my arms above my head and yelled, "Touchdown!" Kaito pretended not to notice my theatrics (nor the glob of rice on his spectacles), flipping through his book in a portrait of unflappable nonchalance. Minamino watched his composure with understated admiration.

"Best conserve your energy, Yukimura," Kaito said. "Junko plans a full interrogation when you see her in your final period."

Even though I'd planned on asking Kaito about Aesop, the mention of Junko (and what was sure to be a vexing conversation) chased away any desire I possessed to unravel the mysteries of the universe during that particular lunch period. The inquiries of curious teenage girls filled my plate enough, thank you.

One crisis at a time, Keiko. One crisis at a time.


Minamino followed me down the hall after the lunch bell rang. This in and of itself wasn't unusual. Kaito had class in a different wing than Minamino and I after lunch. Over the past few weeks Kaito had somewhat relaxed his unspoken policy to keep Minamino and I completely apart, and as a result we'd walked together alone on a few separate occasion. Nothing amiss there.

What did feel amiss was when Minamino murmured "thank you" as soon as the stairwell door shut behind Kaito on the landing above. He spoke so softly I barely heard him, voice obscured by the sound of our feet on the steps.

"Hmm?" I said, looking at Minamino askance.

"Thank you," he repeated. "For changing the subject, earlier."

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the door to the hallway beyond. Minamino stood with hands in his pockets a few feet away, gazing at me with that careful, cultivated detachment I'd come to know expect from him. It was a look he wore when he felt things, and when he did not want people knowing he felt them at all. His mask. His shield. The one I'd seen beyond only for a moment at a time, and only because he'd allowed for me to do so.

Aside from earlier, when I brought up mothers. That look he'd worn…I got the feeling he hadn't meant for me to witness it. It broke my heart to think my words might've caused that look to rear its hurtful head.

"I'm sorry," I said. I hope he knew I meant it. "Talk about insensitive. I brought up moms, and you—ugh, I'm sorry." If I was smiling just then, it was the single most please-kill-me-before-embarrassment-does-the-job smile on record. "I'm kind of the worst, right?"

But Minamino, polite as he was, merely shook his head. "No apology necessary. You were merely expressing your happiness. I hold no grudge for that."

"Still, though. It was insensitive of me."

"No." His firm tone caught me off guard, as did the sudden squaring of his shoulders—Kurama coming out to play. Did he notice when he changed like that, or was it instinctual? Either way, he must have realized that I noticed because he shook his head, softening his expression and lowering his voice. "Please. I need no apology. Your happiness is…uplifting, in a way." I hoped very much that that smile of his was genuine. It warmed my heart like a nip of spiked cider on a cold day. "Do not hold back a smile on my account."

We just looked at each other for a minute. But I'm as awkward as a manatee on roller blades, so I was only able to trade that look with him for a moment. I flipped my hair and pasted on a grin that clowns would envy.

"I can walk around with a massive cheesy grin on my face if that'd help," I said, talking through my teeth to demonstrate my huge, deranged, twitching grin. "Eh? Eh? How's that?"

He chuckled, sound as delicate and delicious as a chocolate wafer—whoa, now, Keiko. Rein in the appreciation. Keep it professional, girlfriend.

"I wouldn't trouble you to go that far," he said, "but I admit, the gesture is appreciated."

"Sure." I let the horrible smile drop. "But, um. You doing OK, lately?" I shook my head and gave a wry laugh before he could reply. "Sorry. That's such a loaded question, I know. I bet that question is super annoying, right? Feel free to ignore it." I held up my hands. "Don't mind me!"

"My father is dead."

Kurama spoke with matter-of-fact dispassion, as though he'd merely revealed his eye color or where he'd been born. I stopped babbling at once. Beyond the stairwell door I heard students talking, unaware of the serious turn in our private conversation. When Kurama didn't say anything more, I swallowed.

"I'm sorry," I said, because there was little else to say.

"Many of the major decisions regarding my mother's treatment have fallen on my shoulders as a result of our current family dynamic," Kurama said, in that same fake blank voice that didn't match the void gathering in his eyes. "She worsened over winter break. I confess my mood, as of late, has not been the most pleasant."

"That's understandable," I said, because that was all I could say, and because it was true.

"Yes. I suppose it is." His chin lowered, eyes hooded as he looked…not at me. He looked Elsewhere. "She's on an overnight hospital stay this evening, in isolation."

"For treatment?"

"Yes. A recent medication compromised her immune system. This should help her recover."

His tone did not waver. No emotion leaked into the caverns of his eyes. Kurama's control over his emotions—it was both impressive and terrifying.

"Makes sense," I said, recalling the time Aunt Diana stayed in isolation after stem cell therapy. "I hope the clean-room helps."

"Me, too," he said.

Neither of us spoke for a time. Our peers beyond the doorway chattered and gossiped like birds on a line. Perhaps some of them discussed Yusuke's apparent ghost. Perhaps a fangirl worried for Shuichi. None of them knew we were there, staring at one another, trading looks on his part vacant, on my part sympathetic.

Shiori was in isolation, and Kurama was a duck: calm above the water, paddling furiously out of sight below the surface. Despite his exacting mask, he must be suffering to be so far away while she battled this new health crisis. He'd sit at home and worry for her, I was sure—

My chest opened up, a black chasm of dread.

The thought of Minamino going home to a dark, empty house, unable to see the mother he so desperately loved, and felt so guilty for breaking, and would feel so guilty for leaving behind…

"I'm sorry for putting this on you," Minamino was saying, apology covering his hollow eyes. "It isn't something I often express."

"Hey. It's OK," I said. "Whenever you want to talk, I'm with you."

"Thank you." He didn't smile, but a certain tension around his eyes eased. "We should get to class."

He reached for the door. I didn't mean to reach for him, but I did. My thumb and forefinger caught the fabric of his sleeve like thorns catching the hem of a coat. His lips parted, surprised, as he glanced toward my roving hand. He looked as surprised as I felt.

"Sorry." I pulled back my errant limb with a mental curse. "Sorry, but—wait a minute. I have an idea. Hear me out?"

His brow knit. "I'm listening."

"Well. Maybe, to get your mind off of things…do you want to go to karaoke with me and a friend of mine tonight?" When his eyes widened I held up my hands and said, "Not the one who was dead, though! The zombie is still on bedrest. This is a different friend. One who is very much a live and definitely not a zombie."

Kuwabara and I had a weekly tradition of eating dinner with my parents before renting a karaoke booth, where we chatted and did homework away from the watchful eyes of family. Since we didn't go to the same school anymore, the routine helped us stay in touch. Tonight was our usual karaoke night. Something told me Kuwabara, with his goofy disposition and friendly demeanor (so long as you weren't a rival punk), might stand a chance of providing Kurama with light, distracting entertainment. Watching Kuwabara belt Megallica songs was truly a sight to behold. And Kuwabara probably wouldn't mind meeting a friend from my new school, either, right? Plus, Kuwabara and Kurama weren't fated to meet till the Saint Beast arc, so what were the chances that their meeting would mess stuff up? In anything, Kurama would just make a new friend. Surely that wasn't a bad thing, right?

Or was I just so desperate to fill that void in Kurama's eyes that I wasn't thinking straight?

Minamino hesitated. "I wouldn't want to impose or inconvenience you," he said. How very Japanese of him. Funny how he'd absorbed that trait of this culture. Surely demons didn't normally worry about such things

"You wouldn't be imposing," I said. "We go all the time. We eat dinner at my parents' restaurant and hang out and do homework in the karaoke booth. But you'd be hearing a whole lot of Megallica, so if metal ain't your thing…"

The clouds in his expression did not scatter. He inhaled a sharp breath, eyes roving across my face. "Yukimura…"

It dawned on me, why he might be hesitating. I snapped my fingers, pointing at him. "Oh. Oh. I totally forgot. I'm sorry! Riling up the fangirls would cause you trouble, and—"

"It's—it's not that." He shook his head, expression strained. "They're friends of yours, it seems. I'm sure they'd understand. I merely—"

He hesitated again. If not the fangirls, then what was he getting at? I waited, frowning as he searched for words, trying on my own to deduce what he might say. But I could no more predict Kurama than I could predict the weather, so of course he beat me to the punch.

"I merely haven't been to karaoke since middle school," he admitted, as though he found the confession embarrassing. "So, my singing voice…"

"Ah." I leaned toward him, nudging him in the ribs with a knowing grin. "You're worried you'll croak like a frog, is that it?"

"Perhaps." And at last he was smiling, for real this time, with a smile that filled his eyes and covered that awful, desperate desolation with cheer. "I haven't accepted a social invitation in a very long time. You surprised me, that's all."

I preened. "I've gotta keep you on your toes somehow, don't I?"

"Yes." The smile softened, warm and…well, maybe almost affectionate. Like perhaps I really had caught him off guard with this overture of friendship, and he liked that feeling just a little. "I suppose you do."

"Well, what do you say?" I swiped my hands through the air, clearing it of expectations. "I promise the karaoke booth will be a judgement free zone."

"If you're certain it wouldn't be an imposition," he said with ponderous, rising determination, "I supposed a distraction…might not go amiss." He bowed, so polite it almost hurt. "Thank you, Yukimura."

I couldn't help but grin. "Awesome. We meet at my house at—"

I wrote the address and time on a scrap of paper from my schoolbag, adding my phone number as an afterthought in case of emergency. He accepted the paper with a chuckle. I practically bounced on my heels as I described directions.

"Oh, and we tend to go in plainclothes, not our uniforms," I said once I finished sketching a rudimentary map on the paper, "but if you're really feeling the magenta vibe today…"

"Thank you." Green eyes glittered with teasing humor. "I'd hate to show up underdressed."

Pretty sure that's not possible, bro. If Kurama could make that magenta uniform look good—which he most certainly did, figure dashing and trim no matter how boxy that stupid coat made everyone else appear—Kurama could look good in anything.

Unless he wore that stupid shoulder strap covered in pockets from the last episodes of the anime. That's where I drew the fashion line. Hopefully he just wore jeans or something, and not one of those anime fashion disasters I used to laugh at on Tumblr…

"Ah, the bell." I pointed up at the ceiling when it rang. "We're late! See you later?"

"Yes." He pushed open the door and waved me through it. "I'll see you soon."

From him, it sounded like a promise—one I admit pleased me a great deal.


"Hey mom—do you mind if I have another plus-one for dinner?"

"Of course not, honey!" she said. She was on break, sitting on a crate in the stockroom with a cold towel around her neck. Dad yelled on the other side of the curtain, running the kitchen with his cheerful, booming voice. "Is Yusuke going to karaoke with you and Kuwabara?"

"Not yet." I leaned against the doorframe, kicking my toe at the ground. "Still on bedrest, especially after this weekend." He's strained some tendons in his calf, badly enough to need crutches for at least a week. "It's a friend from my new school."

"Wonderful! One of the girls?"

"Actually…I need to talk to you about it." I took a deep breath, knowing what I was about to say would dampen my mother's beaming smile. "It's the boy those girls wanted to cook for."

"Oh." Her face fell, as predicted. "The boy whose mother…?"

"Yeah." Neither of us wanted to complete that particular sentence. I soldiered on in spite of the subtext. "His mom has to stay at the hospital for the time being. I wanted to tell you ahead of time so we could steer clear of awkward topics."

She tapped her temple. "Good thinking. I'd hate to step on any rakes!" Mom looked around at the shelves of food and spices; her gusto returned in increments. "Now, let's see…I'll make him a lovely, home cooked meal. Make him feel right at home!"

"Thanks, Mom." I caught her eye and smiled, but I knew the look didn't sit right on my mouth. "Just…I don't think we should overdo it with the Welcome Wagon. He's used to people handling him with kid gloves. Maybe a bit of normalcy…"

"Ah, you're right," she said, nodding. "Normalcy must be in short supply in his household these days."

I sagged with relief. Mom was amazing, but her enthusiasm wasn't always totally apropos. "Yeah. I figured I'd offer him a casual distraction from the whole mom-in-hospital thing. He's always been a loner, at least according to my classmates, but…it just seemed like the right thing to do, you know?"

"I do know." She reached for me, holding my small fingers with her larger, rougher ones. "Don't you worry, Keiko. We'll keep it very casual."

"Great." I squeezed her fingers and gave her a loving peck on the cheek. "I'm going to go take a quick shower."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. See you at dinner!"

The shower felt like heaven. I shampooed my hair, conditioned, and scrubbed until my skin felt raw. Picking an outfit to wear took longer than usual, but this was a special occasion. I wanted to look nice, right? But not like I was trying too hard, either. Kurama shouldn't feel awkward. I wasn't a fangirl, after all, and dressing up to impress people wasn't in my nature, anyhow, but...

He hadn't been out with friends in a long time, he'd said.

He'd been supporting his mother all alone, he'd said.

Clear though it was he needed support during this stage of his life, I was honestly a bit surprised he had accepted my offer. Maybe what I'd said about accepting help sometimes had actually gotten through to him. Or maybe he was still curious about me from all the puns, and this was a chance for him to analyze me outside of school. Whatever the case may be, I was going to treat this the same way: like an outing between friends, to show support as one navigated a difficult time in his life.

No matter what Kurama currently thought about me, he'd come away from this knowing I was first and foremost his friend. That's what mattered.

Plus, it's not like I would be alone in this. I'd have Kuwabara with me. Kurama was getting two friends for the price of one. And since Kuwabara was the best friend a person could ask for, Kurama was getting a damn good deal, if I do say so myself.

Yeah. This was the right thing to do, letting them meet. The reward far outweighed the risk, so far as I was concerned.

I was debating the merits of jeans over dresses when my phone rang atop my desk. I stumbled over the clothes I'd strewn about and nearly fell on my face, but somehow I got the receiver to my ear. Kuwabara's rough voice greeted me a second later.

"Hey, Keiko? It's me."

"Oh, hey man." I wedged the phone between my jaw and my shoulder, holding up a dress in the full length mirror by my closet. "Sup?"

"Um. Nothing good." Worry colored his voice like tacky tar. "Sorry to do this but I gotta bail—it's Eikichi. She's sick and I gotta go take her to the vet."

"Oh my gosh." I dropped the dress, hand covering my mouth. "How sick is she? That's awful! Can I help? I can—"

"No, no, it's fine," he assured me, but his voice cracked, so I knew it really wasn't. "I think she just has a cold or somethin' but I don't want to be too careful, y'know?"

"Of course. She's your baby." In that moment all I felt was worry for the cat, not to mention compassion for my clearly distraught friend. "Tell her I said to get well soon, OK? And give her a nice scratch behind the ears for me?"

"Yeah, sure—thanks." He sounded relieved for some reason. "I'll call you when I know what's up, OK?"

"Good, do that. Best of luck."

"Thanks, Keiko. Bye."

"Yeah, bye."

I hung up, eyes drifting to my window. I unlatched the lock and opened the pane, chirping between my teeth until Sorei swaggered up across the roof tiles. He allowed me to run a thumb across his forehead before deeming that that was quite enough physical contact for one day, thank you. He curled into a ball on my desk and closed his eyes.

"I'm glad you're OK," I told him. "Say a little kitty prayer for Eikichi, would ya?"

Sorei yawned, thoroughly uncaring that my best friend wouldn't be coming tonight on account of his sick cat—

I froze.

Kuwabara…wouldn't be coming to karaoke tonight. Which meant—

"Oh," I said to my empty room. "Oh. Oh. Hoo-boy." I swallowed. "This ain't good."

Sorei didn't care about my plight, obviously. He rolled onto his back and wriggled, crinkling my history homework without a care in the world.

It wasn't like he had to go to karaoke with Kurama alone, or anything like that.

No. Nope. Not Sorei.

Just me.

That enviable task fell squarely on my shoulders—the shoulders of the lucky child who suddenly got the feeling her luck had just run out.


NOTES:

Many thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter. Your reviews kept me going, and I appreciate you very, very much: xenocanaan, Guest (3), ballet022, reebajee, deadkid23, tatewaki2000, ahyeon, wennifer-lynn, MetroNeko, Sesshomarus'Luvr, BlissXyrin, DiCuoreAllison, Marian, AkaMizu-Chan, Miqila, Counting Sinful Stars, buzzk97, mementowhatever, RedPanda923, Kaiya Azure, essex2, Thugs Bunny 009, Lady Hummingbird, 4everfictional, Mr. Jengablock, DreamingTraveler, and HereAfter!