Cultural Note: Yamato nadeshiko (やまとなでしこ or 大和撫子) is a term used in Japan to describe the personification of an idealized Japanese woman. She represents pure, feminine beauty, but also a mastery of classical Japanese manners and customs. Her smile is actually a carefully-wielded sword; she can kill you with good manners alone.

**Warnings: Depictions of disordered eating (binge and purge).**


Lucky Child

Chapter 44:

"That Sounds Ominous"


Three blocks north of Meiou lay a park—seemingly standard, ostensibly mundane. A pastel playground sat at its edge. Rarely did I pass the playground and not find it full of children, but these children kept to the slide and the swings. Beyond the playground, left to run wild and untamed, the park turned from children's paradise to feral woods. Thick trees pressed close together as if guarding unknown secrets. More than once while passing this park, I'd heard a worried mother scold a child for wandering too close to the trees.

"Stay on the playground. I've heard monsters live in the deepest woods," they told their children. "You wouldn't want to get spirited away, would you?"

As I followed the woman in black into the shade beneath the trees, I wondered if that might be her intention: to spirit me away like a naughty child in a storybook, never to be seen again.

So much for being on time for school, huh?

The cool of the shade prickled at my skin, a contrast to the warm scents of earth, decay, and growing things. The woman in black did not speak to me as we picked our way over rocks and stones, until the forest opened into a small, empty glen. I wondered, vaguely, if this was the park where Yusuke had encountered Hiei and the others, but there was no real way to tell. As the woman in black walked to the center of the clearing, unnaturally graceful atop the slats of her traditional wooden sandals, I planted my feet and squared my shoulders.

"Lovely trees," I said.

The woman in black tilted her head to the coin of blue sky above. Dark lashes fluttered; she inhaled through the nose, smile crossing her full lips.

Inside my pocket, my index nail dug even harder into the cuticle of my thumb.

"It's been some time since I've visited Human World in a corporeal form," said the woman in the black kimono. "I forgot what joys it can bring."

She inhaled again, with obvious but dainty relish. I allowed her to enjoy the scenery a moment longer before cutting (politely) to the chase. "May I ask why you brought me here?" I said.

"Of course." Hands in the sleeves of her robe, she turned my way and bowed. "My name is Ayame. As I said, I am an associate of Botan's, and a fellow guide to the River Styx."

I bowed back on reflex. Internally I cursed. So I was right. She was Ayame—Koenma's personal assistant (at least according to late chapters of the manga), and Botan's apparent senior in the hierarchy of ferrygirls. Not that I knew much about ferrygirls themselves. The manga and anime hadn't given many details about them, nor about Spirit World in general.

Still. Even with my deficit in knowledge, the fact that Koenma had sent Ayame did not bode well for me. Everything from her kimono to her carriage spoke of gravity. This was not a social call. This was business…but of what nature I couldn't say. I had my suspicions, of course. They were suspicions I didn't want to entertain, not even for a moment, lest thinking of them summon them from conjecture and into the realm of truth.

Whatever the truth, I had to play this interaction very, very carefully—because one wrong move, one mere inkling that I knew more about Spirit World than Keiko was supposed to, and I could give the game away entirely.

"I come on behalf of Koenma, Lord of the Underworld," Ayame said. "And I come with a proposition."

That sent my stomach bucking. Keiko had had no dealings with Spirit World in Yu Yu Hakusho. This was bad. Really, really bad. I didn't let my unease show on my face, though, instead crossing my arms and pasting on a puzzled expression.

"Really?" I said. Ayame's smile was as beatific as it was inscrutable. "A proposition for me?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" she asked.

"I can't imagine that an organization as powerful as Spirit World calls schoolgirls such as myself out of class too often." Too bad for me Ayame didn't seem at all pleased by my flattery, allowing no emotion to slip through her well-practiced smile. I sighed and waved a hand. "Please continue. I'm curious as to what Spirit World could possibly ask of me."

The reaper jumped right into it, speaking with all the pleasant dispassion of a phone operator. "As you are aware," she said, "Botan, Yusuke's former handler, was injured in the line of duty."

That got my attention better than any so-called proposition. My hands dropped to my sides. "Is she OK?"

At last Ayame's expression flickered, though with worry or annoyance I wasn't sure. "There have been…complications, regarding her condition." She smoothed her smile back into place. "However, she is receiving the best of care available for Spirits, and will be able to resume her duties after a period of convalescence. Which brings—"

"Wait." Her wording caught my ear; my interjection slipped out unbidden. "'Spirits'? What do you mean by that?"

Ayame had used the word shinrei—not yurei for ghost, or hito for person, but shinrei, an archaic word for the soul or essence of person I had never heard used outside of myths and fables (the ones that existed in this world, anyway). An odd word to use, one I didn't hear often, and one that sounded too intentional for a random slip of the tongue. This was a capital-letter-word for sure.

Ayame didn't say anything for a moment, but eventually she nodded, coming to some unspoken conclusion she didn't care to share.

"This is not common knowledge, I suppose, so I understand your curiosity. Allow me to explain." She placed one ivory hand on her chest. "Much the way humans are born in and occupy the Human World, so too do Spirits occupy the Spirit World. Unlike humans, we are not born with physical bodies, existing instead in a purely spiritual state. Spirits are much longer lived than humans, and we reproduce at a much slower rate than both humans and demons." At that her cool smile warmed, if only slightly. "In fact, Botan is one of our youngest citizens, though even she dwarfs your age by a considerable degree."

"Interesting." And I didn't say that in jest; this information felt valuable, a little canon nugget lost to Yu Yu Hakusho fans revealed at long, long last. "So Botan is new to her job, then?

"As the guide of souls to the afterlife, no. But as assistant to the Spirit Detective, yes." She placed her hand back in her sleeve. "Yusuke was her first such assignment. Such appointments are rare in general, as Spirit Detectives are not often selected. As such, we have no other operatives trained to replace her at this time. I am afraid Botan's absence has left the ferrywomen short-staffed, even for our regular duties as guides to Spirit World."

"Sorry to hear that," I said. I tried not to wince; that staff shortage was in no small thanks to me.

Ayame nodded. "Thank you. We look forward to her return, as we will not be able to assign Yusuke a replacement assistant for some time. In fact, Botan will likely be healed before anyone else can be trained."

"I see." But that was a lie, because my involvement in this scenario didn't make sense. "Pardon me, but I'm confused. What does all of this have to do with me?"

Eyes dark and composed, Ayame looked me up, then down. I fidgeted under her watchful gaze, painfully aware of the hair I hadn't had time to style that morning and what were sure to be deep bags beneath my eyes. Ayame's aristocratic features and porcelain skin made me feel like a Cabbage Patch Kid that had seen one too many dives into the sandbox, and here she was, a collector's edition Barbie that had never left her packaging. She had that same unsettlingly luminous skin as Botan, though thanks to her darker coloring and boxy kimono, the airbrushed quality of her pores and proportions wasn't quite as obvious. Were all ferrygirls this gorgeous?

"You are close to Yusuke," Ayame intoned after another moment's scrutiny. "He trusts you, and judging by your file, you are a responsible, intelligent young woman. You have already been made aware of the existence of both Spirit and Demon world, and you are acquainted with the demon Kurama, who has been masquerading for fifteen years as the human boy Minamino Shuichi."

She stopped talking. I waited. Ayame looked me over once again, as if searching for something I didn't know how to see.

"…and?" I said when the silence grew uncomfortable.

Ayame met my eyes with frank confidence.

"And," she said, "we would like for you to act as Yusuke's temporary assistant during Botan's absence."

At first I thought I hadn't heard her right. Blinking, I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Gaped at Ayame like a beached fish until her head listed gently to one side—a question, asking if I'd heard her at all.

"Me?" I said.

Ayame nodded.

"Assistant!?"

"Yes." Her mouth lifted at the corner, amused. "Don't look so apprehensive. You would not be expected to investigate cases in any capacity. That remains up to Yusuke. We would merely ask you to keep an eye on him in Botan's absence, and write reports of his activities for our records."

My eyes dropped to her feet, to her wooden sandals and the wild grass beneath them. Ayame's words danced through my head so fast I could barely keep up with their tilt and whirl. I grabbed her speech and wrestled it to stillness, picking the words apart one by one until a single, vital bit swam free and into clarity.

"Records," I repeated. "Write reports for our records." I looked at her for confirmation. "So. Not an assistant at all, really. You want a record-keeper."

She considered this before nodding. "The title of 'record-keeper' might be more accurate, yes."

My hands slipped into my pockets. My index nail slipped back into my thumb's cuticle, pain arching tinny up my finger. What was the angle, here? There was no way Spirit World would ever ask a normal human to—

"Spirit World has eyes and ears everywhere," Ayame said, answering my unspoken question, "but even we are not omnipotent. We cannot monitor the Detective at all times. Having a contact in the field is crucial to maintaining control of the Spirit Detective."

My brow furrowed, blood running chill inside my chest. "Control?"

Ayame's head lowered. "Pardon the phrasing. I imagine that sounds ominous."

"It does. You're right. It sounds very ominous." Thinking of Sensui and Spirit World's complicated relationship with their former Spirit Detective, I asked, "Has Yusuke done anything you disapprove of?"

Her reply was as immediate as it was certain—too certain. Too rehearsed.

"No," Ayame said. "He has been a model detective." Before I could pry, she changed the subject, action as deft as a swordsman swinging a blade. "We would also ask you monitor the Kurama in a similar manner."

I blinked. "Kurama?"

"Yes. He will be returning to his human life in short order." My breathing hitched at the relief flooding my heart; she lifted a hand from her sleeve and gestured at the forest. "We ask that you monitor his habits as a teenage boy and report back to us if you observe any suspicious behaviors. Koenma decided leniency was appropriate, but Kurama will nevertheless remain under strict observation until his parole period expires."

Her phasing cooled my joy somewhat, because here lurked even more buried bombshells. Lips moving as I repeated her words in my head, I parsed Ayame's meaning phrase by phrase until a scowl hardened both my heart and my thinning mouth.

"He's on parole," I said, "and I'm his parole officer."

Ayame tittered. "That's a rather crass term for it."

"Probably so. Doesn't make it any less accurate." Shaking my head, I crossed my arms again. "I apologize, but I think you have the wrong girl for the job."

Ayame's brow lifted with maddening sincerity. "Oh?"

"I'm a normal girl, not gifted like Yusuke. And furthermore, I'm loyal to my friends," I said, emphasis deliberate and biting. "What makes you think I'd spy on them for you?"

Another maddening, close-shuttered smile. "I did not ask you to spy on them."

"Sure. Maybe not in so many words," I snarked, "but the implication is pretty clear."

There followed what can only be described as a standoff: my willful glare versus Ayame's benign smile. A rock and a hard place, an unstoppable force and an immovable object, I glared and she smiled as a wind whistled by, bringing with it the far-off sound of children laughing on the playground. Neither of us budged an inch, until finally Ayame's head tilted a centimeter to the left. Still her smile did not waver.

"Do you hold ill will toward Spirit World?" she asked.

My first instinct was to deny it—to play coy and hold Spirit World in polite reverence, the way any normal human might when dealing with a powerful supernatural organization. I opened my mouth to do that, eyes cast down with humble denial…but then I stopped. Keiko was polite, sure. But she and I had something in comment…and that was a protective street a country mile wide.

I raised my eyes to Ayame's, instead, and did not allow myself to flinch.

"Not ill will, exactly," I said, every word the truth, "but I admit Spirit World isn't on my Nice List."

Ayame's eyes widened. "Oh?" She lifted one dark sleeve to her mouth, covering her dainty laugh with silk. "Interesting. Your file did not indicate you possessed a rebellious streak."

"Your file needs to be update," I said, blunt tone causing her hand to fall at once. "I'm a contrarian, and this contrarian resents the fact that Spirit World sent a child who just so happens to be my best friend into battle against a homicidal demon." My patience and politeness evaporated completely when she tittered as if to object. "And then they sat oblivious on their asses watching as one of their own was nearly turned into a mindless demon slave, which didn't do my opinion of them any favors whatsoever."

To her credit, Ayame did look away when I said that, but I did not allow myself to gloat. I'd had these feelings even in my old life, back when I watched a 700 year old demigod send a teenage boy into battle with bloodthirsty monsters from my nightmares. I'd had these feelings even when I observed not from the sidelines, but from the other side of a TV screen. Koenma had been a real dick in the early episodes, so far as I was concerned.

"To say I disapprove of your methods is putting it lightly," I said. "Asking me to spy on my friends just lowers my estimation of you further." I let slip a wry laugh. "Assistant. Record-keeper. Call a spade a spade, Ayame. You want a spy. Don't shove a fancy title at me when all you want is a mole for Kurama and Yusuke."

I expected Ayame to act cowed. Perhaps she would demure, and change the subject as adroitly as she had before. Instead, she surprised me. She lifted her sleeve back to her mouth and laughed like a swinging wind chime, light and airy and musical in the early morning sun. The sunlight caught the dark orb of her eye, onyx glittering with astonished mirth.

Pretty as her laugh sounded, it set my teeth on edge.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

It took a moment for Ayame to compose herself. She lowered her hand, but her smile—it didn't look the same as before. A tightness around her eyes spoke of steel beneath silk, the unyielding gaze of a true Japanese yamato nadeshiko who had finally decided to snipe back.

"Your file described you as an intelligent young woman, and I am inclined to agree with that assessment," Ayame said. "However…it's interesting that you don't see all the ways Spirit World benefits from this arrangement." Another musical laugh. "But I suppose wisdom and intelligence are not mutually exclusive."

I bit back a joke about Dungeons & Dragons categorizing the two traits separately. Something told me the prim and proper Ayame wasn't into tabletop RPGs, and besides—her words made my stomach sink into my ankles as if it had been filled with frozen lead. A horrible, rising suspicion filled my throat. It was all I could do to grind out the words, "What other objective?"

Ayame paused. Intention colored that pause: the intention of an actress wielding silence like a sword, a targeted strike to grab the attention of her audience. I'm ashamed to say it worked. My breath hooked on the suspicion in my throat and lodged there, suspended on a point of sharp anxiety. Only once she saw she had my rapt attention did Ayame choose to speak.

"Kurama and Yusuke," Ayame slowly intoned, "are not the only ones this arrangement allows Spirit World to keep its eye on." At that she fixed me with a look as pointed and dangerous as her silence. "You are an interesting girl, Yukimura-san. Spirit World isn't as…how did you put it?" She pretended to think, then laughed again, this time with the sound of breaking glass. "Ah, yes. Spirit World is not as oblivious as you assume."

And there it was. My suspicions made clear. My unspoken, unwanted predictions made explicit, undeniable, and clear.

Spirit World knew.

How much they knew, I couldn't say.

But Spirit World knew—knew enough to know they needed to keep me close, under their watchful eye.

Denying it was useless. I wasn't a good enough liar to pull it off, anyway. I just stood there, silent, sweat beading on my oily skin, until Ayame bowed low and long in my direction.

"Have a good day, Yukimura-san," she said. "We would like an answer by the end of the week."

Ayame did not wait for my reply. She merely turned. She walked away. Her black kimono melded with the dark trees, and she was gone—leaving me alone, cold and hollow, emotions spiraling inside me in an unending, uncontrollable whirlpool loop.

At school, no one seemed to notice my late arrival. Whether this was a gift from Spirit World or just happenstance, I can't tell you. Kurama wasn't there. Hotaru caught me in the hallway and threw her arms around my neck. She'd gotten word from her nurse cousin that Minamino's mother had made a full recovery. A miraculous recovery, in fact. I smiled at her, hugged her back, and tried to look as thrilled as the rest of Minamino's fangirls.

At lunch, I scarfed my mother's home-packed bento. When it was done, I excused myself from Kaito's presence and bought more food at the cafeteria. Crème buns, a pork roll, onigiri, seaweed chips. I ate every bit until swallowing hurt and my tongue sat thick with saliva in my mouth.

Then I went into the bathroom and forced my fingers down my throat.


The next day, in the evening, Kagome intercepted me on the sidewalk on the way to aikido practice. Her ponytail bounced as lightly as her heels when she came my way, a rabbit skipping over stones. She took one look at my face and blanched, lurching forward to tangle her fingers in the hem of my shirt.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look like death."

I forced a polite smile even though the sight of Kagome's small, adorable face filled my gut with dread. Mom and Dad had bought the story of stomach flu without quibble and hadn't questioned my refusal of dinner, my refusal of breakfast, or my claim I'd had a late lunch and didn't need dinner before attending 'study group'—my weekly lie for my whereabouts during aikido. Somehow I got the sense Kagome would not be so easily fooled, however. And since she was pretty much the last person I wanted to talk to that night—swallowing a fucking needle sounded more appealing than having to explain everything that had gone wrong in the past few days—I had to put her off the scent in short order.

"I'm good." I shook my head when she started to argue, brow knit into concerned creases. "I'm fine, OK?"

"You don't look fine, Eeyore." Blunt as always. She stepped close, peering up at me with wide, gleaming eyes. "What's wrong?"

What was wrong was that I'd binged and purged for the first time in this new, precious life. What was wrong was that apparently that destructive behavior hadn't died with my old, disordered body. What was wrong was I hadn't eaten in 18 hours, stomach roiling with hunger, brain raging with unnamable rebellion that made the sight of food nausea-inducing—that's what was wrong. But I couldn't tell her that purging had given me a hot, fluttery adrenaline spike rivaled only by my recent run-ins with angry demons, or that it had given me a fleeting feeling of relieved control amidst the chaos of my decidedly out-of-control life.

I couldn't tell her that, though—just as I couldn't tell her that by listening to her advice regarding Kurama, his mother had nearly been killed. In all the excitement with Hiei and Ayame, I hadn't had time to think about her indirect involvement with that situation. It wasn't Kagome's fault, per se, but resentment festered. I needed more time to get over it before I could confide in her again.

Time. That's what I needed. Time to percolate and think before having to commit to the explanations she's surely wanted.

Time to regain control.

"It's a long story," I rubbed the back of my neck, shooting wary glances at the warehouses around us. "We need to get lunch at some point, probably. Now's not the time, but…"

She glanced at the warehouses, too, then ducked her delicate chin. "Meanie. Secrets, secrets are no fun—"

"Sorry, Kagome. Now's not the time."

She stopped talking at once, mouth flapping open and closed at the sound of her formal name—her name spoken in tones more brisk than she'd probably ever heard from me. Not 'Tigger', not 'kiddo'…just 'Kagome.'

"Wait. What?" she said. Kagome smacked my arm, gently but firmly. "C'mon, Eeyore. Talk to me. What's been going on? I haven't heard from you in days. What have you—?"

The woven rug of my nerves could only sustain so many snags before disintegrating. Every one of her questions snarled into a strand of my anxieties and yanked, yanked, yanked until the edge of my frayed patience fell apart entirely. My teeth ground together like cotton paddles tearing at stubborn burrs.

"Drop it, Kagome," I snapped. "Just drop it."

I wasn't proud of snapping at her. I wasn't proud, and immediately my face began to burn. She searched my scorching face with a frown, then seemed to settle on something. Her eyes hardened, rosebud mouth thinning into a pout.

"We'll talk later," I told her. "Right now, I'm not in the mood. OK?"

Kagome drew herself to her full, if not diminutive, height. "Oh. Well." She tossed her head, hefted her gym bag a little higher, and turned up her nose. "I guess we'll talk later, then."

We didn't talk later, for which I was grateful. Perhaps Kagome sensed I just wasn't in the right headspace for it. Perhaps I'd really hurt her, denying her the way I had. I wasn't sure. We spent that evening's lesson avoiding each other's' eyes, watching Hideki-sensei and following his directions in near silence. Hideki noticed, of course, dryly remarking on the stark atmosphere with a pointed look at the two of us, but we avoided his gaze the way we'd avoided each other's all night. Poor Ezakiya looked bewildered; we spent most lessons tag-teaming the big guy, whom we always needed to double-team to take down, but now we left him uncharacteristically alone.

Dread and lightheaded, wobbly nausea after the day's workout were the only things that kept me from apologizing to Kagome when the lesson ended. I watched with my head hanging as Kagome grabbed her bag without even saying goodbye. She latched onto Eza's belt and demanded he walk her, the vulnerable young lady, to the train station since it was so late.

"Vulnerable?" I heard him mutter as they walked out the door. "You could probably beat up a bear." But then they were gone, leaving Hideki and me alone.

Hideki wasted no time. "Yukimura. What's wrong?"

I didn't reply, sitting at the edge of the mat and pulling on my shoes without looking at my sensei. The last time I'd been here, in this warehouse dojo, Botan had nearly been turned into a mindless demon thrall. That had led to Ayame approaching me on behalf of Spirit World, hinting that they knew…something. And now here we were, Hideki gearing up for an interrogation I really couldn't handle right now.

"Your friend. The reaper," he said. "How is she?"

I yanked my shoelace a little too hard. "She's being healed."

"That's a good thing, and yet you're anxious."

Suppressing a curse, I looked up to find Hideki standing with hands in pockets, face as impassive as a statue carved from marble. Lucky for me he didn't ask any prying questions—just voiced that one statement and waited for me to take the lead. Given my mood, that was about all I could handle. He was either ridiculously perceptive or just lucky.

"Spirit World wants me to work for them," I said, keeping it simple. "I now find myself in an ethical dilemma. That's all."

Hideki's head rose, like a nod that went up but never came down. He pulled a hand from his pocket and swiped it over his mouth.

He asked, "What are you doing this Sunday?"

I frowned. "What? Why?"

Grey eyes rolled, impatient. "Are you free this Sunday?"

"Yes. But what—"

"Meet me here at noon." He stepped backward, toward the door, but then he stopped and lifted one warning finger. "Don't wear your practice uniform. Dress…professional."

"Professional?" My voice rose a cracking octave as he turned and walked away, leaving me in a state of suspense I utterly hated. "That sounds, uh…ominous?"

"Shut up," he said, throwing a glare over his shoulder. "There's someone I think you should meet. See you here, at noon. Sunday."

"Oh—OK?"

He left me alone in the dark, both metaphorically and figuratively—and I felt my control on my life slip just a little further.


The next day at lunch, I stood in the cafeteria line alone, surrounded by a hundred of my classmates.

I didn't want to be there.

I'd been thinking of lunch since I woke up and slipped out the door with only a cup of miso soup for breakfast. Between the turn of every page and every word spoken to my teachers, I'd thought of the bento in my bag. If I'd eat it. If I'd not eat it. Calculating calories and wondering how many grams Mom's egg omelet precisely weighed. I thought of if I'd eat it, and then eat more food from the cafeteria until it became impossible to keep everything down, like it had the day before. I wondered if I should just skip meals altogether for a few days until I grew too faint to go without. If I should eat a bite now, and a bite later. Eat a bite every hour until I felt better—or if I should purge again, feel that buoyant body high and the sense of overwhelming, numb-edged, shake-handed relief that followed.

No, I told myself below the buzz of planning and plotting and purging. No. No. Bad idea. Do not do it. Do not ruin Keiko's poor body with your neuroses. She doesn't deserve that. If you can't refrain for your sake, do it for hers.

I gazed up at the cafeteria menu for nearly three minutes before finding the courage to turn away and head for the library stairs. Focusing on one step at a time, focusing on nothing but the feel of my feet against the stairs, I ignored the gnawing hunger in my stomach and the burning acid in my throat. I hoped Kaito was in a talkative mood, because I sure as hell wasn't. I offered a silent plea to the universe that he'd distract me as I hit the stairwell landing where he waited.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, walking straight to my window sill. I didn't bother to look at him until I said down. "I got held up—oh. Oh."

Next to Kaito, clad in a pink uniform that showed no sign of the duel he'd fought with Hiei, sat Kurama.

I'd been too caught up in my own drama to think about Kurama. I knew he'd be coming back soon, but I hadn't expected to see him today. The sight of his garnet hair, his brilliant eyes, his delicate features, his long legs splayed over the step he sat upon—

"You're—you're back," I blurted.

Kurama…he didn't react.

There followed a moment of silence. Kurama stared with those deep, crystalline eyes of his, boldly meeting my gaze with an expression that betrayed nothing but polite awareness...and beneath it, the razor edge of calculations I couldn't begin to name. Kaito looked between us in silence, a longsuffering, annoyed kid at the dinner table wondering why his parents were fighting.

I tore my eyes from Kurama's and smiled at Kaito, instead.

"Hi." I swallowed, hands freezing around my bento. "Hi, Kaito."

"Nice of you to join us, Yukimura," he said. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his thin nose with his middle finger—I wasn't sure if he meant to flip me off, or if that was just a happy accident. "I was beginning to suspect Minamino and I would be dining alone. But you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"Never." I forced a smile I'm sure looked broken and tried my hand at teasing. "Or maybe I'm sparing Minamino from yet another lecture on solipsism."

Kaito huffed, snatching his book off the step next to him and lifting it before his face. Kurama's maddening stare didn't waver, not even a tick. I felt it on my skin like burlap, itchy and tight and hot and thoroughly unwanted. But because it would be even odder if I didn't talk to him, especially since he'd been away from school for days, I forced myself to meet his eyes once more.

Despite their cool color, looking at them almost burned.

"H-how are you?" I asked.

His head tilted to one side, motion barely visible. His hair fell over his shoulder, caressing the length of his long, white neck.

"Feeling rather free, at the moment," he murmured.

The innuendo was too specific to ignore. He felt free from Spirit World. I nodded, hoping he knew I'd understood—because I didn't want to say anything more on the matter. Not then. Not so soon.

"Good to hear. I'm glad." I shifted my knees, pointing my body and my attention straight at Kaito. Tone stuffed full of artificial breeze, I asked, "So, Kaito. What topic with you regale us with today?"

"Really?" he intoned. "You don't want me to spare you and Minamino my conjecture, after all?"

"Not at all," I said. I pinned him with the most understated version of a glare I could muster. "Please, Kaito. Talk to us."

His thin lips opened, perhaps to argue—but then our eyes met, and I happened to be pleading with mine very, very hard. Kaito's glasses gleamed, a glare from the window obscuring his darkening look of understanding.

"Very well," he said—and he began to talk.

If my sensei Hideki hadn't been perceptive of my needs, Kaito did not follow suit. He launched into a discussion of his latest literary theory paper with far more gusto than usual (and that's saying something), lobbing just about all of his questions in Minamino's direction. The fox had to look away from me to pay attention to Kaito, sparing me from the lunchtime activity I truly feared: Kurama's demands for answers.

If I wasn't even ready to talk to Kagome about all of this—if I wasn't willing to talk to the person who already knew of my situation—no way in hell was I ready to talk to Kurama.

I didn't eat that lunch period. I didn't have the stomach for it. All I could do was make a few small jokes, some futile attempts at participating in the conversation as I avoided looking at Kurama. Kaito filled the hour with aplomb, only shooting me a concerned glance when Minamino briefly turned his back to access his school satchel. I just shook my head at him and mouthed the words, 'Not here.' Acid splashed inside my gut with every passing moment, burning like fire until the bell rang. I hopped off my windowsill and headed for the stairs the second the chime began to sound.

"See you guys tomorrow," I said.

"Wait."

Minamino's voice cut the air at my back. I stopped walking, but I did not turn around.

"I need to get the reading pages from you before Tsukame's class," he said. His low, musical voice held nothing sinister—just a reasonable request for the study material he'd missed from a shared class. "Can I get that now?"

"Do you need me to walk you to—?" Kaito began, jumping in to save me…only I was not to be saved today.

"I can walk her, if she needs it," Kurama cut in. "See you later, Kaito."

My eyes fell closed.

Knowing Kaito could not save me from this, I nodded, hoping he could see even if I didn't turn around.

I got my wish.

"…very well," he said—but he did not sound happy, and every beat of Kaito's retreating feet rang like a war drum in my ears.

In the silence that ensued, all I could hear was the sound of my thumping heart—until a shoe slid across the tile toward me. I flinched away on reflex; the shuffling stopped, Kurama keeping his distance from his wary, bolt-prone prey.

"I didn't expect you back so soon," I said. The words came out in a whisper.

"Nor did I." All traces of his earlier civility had disappeared into hard, cold steel. "We need to talk."

I swallowed, still not looking at him. He waited for me to reply. He did not know I was incapable. My knees nearly buckled 'neath the weight of that horrible silence, until he finally got the picture.

"After school," he said when he realized I was not going to reply. "Greenhouse."

That was all the instruction I needed, not to mention all the suspense I could take. My feet move of their own panicked accord for the stairs.

"Oh. And Yukimura?"

I froze.

A low, velvet chuckled skittered up my spine like the hand of an amorous ghost.

"Don't try to run," Kurama told me—but I disobeyed.

Unable to stop myself, unable to command my traitorous feet, unable to stop the surge of nausea that set me immediately to terrified dry-heaving, I sprinted away from Kurama and down the library stairs—into the nearest bathroom.

I ate all the snacks in my bag, not to mention my mother's bento, but could not keep them down.


NOTES:

NQK as record-keeper is literally just a ruse to give Spirit World an excuse to monitor her. She literally gets no positive benefits from her (mostly honorary) appointment whatsoever, and in fact only accrues negative side effects. And you, dear readers, will wind up getting one GOOD side effect, so just hold on a tick and let me work this out.

Re. pushing away Kagome: I tend to withdraw when I'm at critical stress levels. Not a good habit. But it's me. Binging/purging is (in my situation) all about power and control. NQK has no power here, so she has suffered a relapse (or has developed a new habit, depending on your POV). This chapter was an emotional battle for me; thanks for abiding it. NQK is on her last mental leg and desperately needs a break.

Thank y'all so much for coming out last week and reading NQK's pepper-spray adventure. Next week we get the Kurama Confrontation. Stay tuned and many thanks to Yakiitori, Kuroyuki no Ryu, WistfulSin, LadyEllesmere, mskittyholiday, xenocanaan, Shadow Friend, Counting Sinful Stars, MyHeartBeating-MWMI, Maester Ta, rya-fire1, TMNTurtwig, shen0, Just 2 Dream of You, general zargon, wennifer-lynn, ahyeon, Selias, AkaMizu-chan, MetroNeko, Tw2000, Lady Rini, Red Panda923, buzzk97, Corralinne, DiCuoreAllison, Marian, Yunrii, MyMidnightShadow, sousie, Solemn Nocturne, Can't Stop LOLin, FireDancerNix, Reclun, Kaiya Azure, Marie, zubhanwc3, Tsuki-Lolita, and a guest!