Warnings: None
Lucky Child
Chapter 47:
"Patience"
The college cafeteria, with its bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the green expanse of the Quad, thrummed with the tense talk of my classmates in the grip of final exam panic. Malory looked across the Caf with dismay, leaning around the students ahead of us in the entry line to catch glimpse of the buffets. They sat on the opposite side of the long, brightly lit room like some distant, glimmering oasis.
"Aw, man," she said. "It's packed. They'll be out of pizza already!"
Pizza, she had told our study group, was her favorite Brain Food, hence the decision to meet in the Caf for our weekly meeting. I didn't have to lean around the girls ahead of us; I was taller than them by a good foot thanks to my favorite heeled boots.
"I'm more worried about finding a place to sit," I said, looking at the crammed tables.
At that, Mal heaved an enormous sigh. "Maybe we should get our dinner to go?"
Neither of us was sure. The rest of the group was going to meet us here; would they want to study elsewhere since it was so loud? As the line moved, taking us closer to the cafeteria doors, Mal sighed again.
"We better decide fast," she said. "Ms. Linney won't let us change our minds once we go past her." Another huge sigh. "Ms. Martha would let us, but Ms. Linney is a bitch."
The aforementioned woman, wearing a smock with a garish floral pattern over loose sweatpants, barely even glanced at the students as she took their ID cards and swiped them through the scanner. Hellos she returned with grunts; smiles she returned with scowls. To her left, atop the small table where she sat performing her duties, the periwinkle corner of a romance novel peeked from beneath a napkin.
"Seriously," Mal muttered as we drew close. "She's just so mean."
I hated that Ma's point was at least partially proven when she chirped a bright "Hello!" at Ms. Linney, and Ms Linney didn't return it. Mal trotted on ahead as I handed over my ID card; she stopped a few feet away to wait for me, an I-told-you-so splashed across her face.
"Hi, Ms. Linney," I said. "How's the book?"
She looked up at once—and then she grinned.
"Jo-Anna married the Count to protect Sir Henry," she said as she swiped my card. She didn't hand it back to me right away, though. "She's one smart lady, that's for sure."
"Oooh, scandalous!" I said, dramatically placing my wrist against my forehead. "But that's kind of sad. She's not with her true love?"
Linney chuckled, looking smug. "I think she's gonna learn she's pregnant and the marriage will be annulled. That's how things usually go in these rags." At that she rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever write romance novels, you hear me? Write something decent."
"Will do!" I said, saluting. "You'd better have finished that book by the time I come back, though; I wanna hear the ending before the term lets out."
"Don't tell me what to do," she said—but with a sly grin. Knowing her, she'd have it finished by the end of her shift. Linney was a reader; even long, wordy classics only took her a day or two.
Linney gave back my card with a smile. When I turned to go, Mal was standing there with her mouth open. She shut it in short order, but as we fell into step and walked toward the buffet, she leaned toward me.
"How the hell did you do that?" she asked.
"How did I do what?"
"Get that harpy to smile?"
I shrugged. "I noticed she reads a lot, so I asked about her book a few months back." It had taken a few asks for Linney to actually start replying in earnest, but after a while she'd started being friendly with me.
"Huh." Mal looked, in a word, flummoxed. "And that got her to like you?"
"People like talking about their interests," I said. "Show you're interested, too, and they open up even if they're a bit prickly at first."
It was as if I'd described nuclear physics to her, judging by the look on her face. "If you say so," she said, "but I've been nice to her a hundred times, and she's never smiled back."
As one of the three southerners attending my Midwestern college, many of my habits (holding doors for people, abundant small-talk, eager smiles and easy familiarity with strangers) had been viewed with bemused skepticism many times before. My southern hospitality had been viewed with outright suspicion in Chiago, when I'd opened a door for a woman who had her hands full and was thanked with a snarled, "The fuck you want?" As we reached the buffet line, I gestured for Mal to go first and addressed the back of her head.
"My daddy raised me," I told her, wincing as a hint of southern accent slipped through. "He's friendly with everyone. Could probably make a rattlesnake feel at home, I've always said. So maybe I just picked it up from him and—"
"Jose!"
Mal darted off, having spotted one of our study group members in the crowd. The explanation died on my tongue. Reaching for a slice of pizza, I stacked my plate and followed Mal into the crowd.
It didn't really matter, why or how I'd made friends with the grumpy Ms. Linney. Mal wasn't interested in hearing about it, anyway.
Hiei's reflective eyes appeared first, fiery will-o-the-wisps summoned by the magic of a woodland sorcerer. His body solidified amidst the shadowy trees next, moving forward into the light like a shadow turned physical. He wore the same black cloak from before, the one with the trailing hem and the tear along a shoulder seam—but he walked with certain stride to stand ten feet from me, not limping or hurt in any way that I could see. Spirit World hadn't been too rough on him, I guessed.
Still. When he looked at me, he appeared pained—as though he'd smelled something foul, and the scent offended him.
Predictably, I found myself quite unable to move.
Ayame watched through shrewd eyes as Hiei and I shared a long, silent look. Eventually she stepped forward, standing neatly between us, looking at each of us in turn.
"Were the conditions of your parole explained to you?" Ayame asked.
Hiei's eyes flickered in her direction before settling back on me.
"Do not leave the prefecture," he said, voice gravelly and harsh. "Stay close to the city. Meet with her once weekly."
The demon pronounced the pronoun with undisguised distaste. My body unlocked at that point, lips thinning into a hard line. I was the one who should feel affronted by all of this, not him. He was the one who'd kidnapped me, the one who had hurt Botan and thrown my Record Keeper job into disarray. What right did he have to be resentful?
Ayame waited after Hiei spoke, but when he said nothing else, her brows rose. "And?"
His lip curled back. "And what?"
The reaper did not react to his snarl; her poker face was as good as Kurama's, probably. "There is one more condition," Ayame said, as if she spoke to an ornery child.
Hiei didn't speak. He didn't move. He stared at Ayame for a time untrackable—and then he ducked his chin and muttered something, words unintelligible but clearly derisive, that same ornery child repeating his teacher's words whilst being reprimanded.
"What was that?" Ayame asked with mocking delicacy.
Hiei's audible growl preceded a snarl of, "No harming humans! There. Is that what you wanted?"
"Yes, it was." Ayame turned to me and bowed; she did not do the same for Hiei. "I'll leave you to it."
Her words had barely registered as a goodbye, abrupt as they were. "Ayame, wait," I said, reaching for her—but moving with surprising speed, Ayame slipped through the trees and disappeared behind their trunks. Pretty sure she'd pulled a Cleo and vanished, because when I ran to the trees and tried to spot her…well, it was very literally like trying to grab a ghost.
"Well." I shifted from foot to foot, staring after her in disbelief. "Well. Um. Never mind, I guess." I glanced over my shoulder; Hiei hadn't moved. "Hello."
The fire demon's lip curled. A small "tch" sound slipped from between his teeth—and then Hiei pivoted on one foot and started for the trees, himself.
"Wait," I said, because everybody kept abandoning me and that was just not cool. Hiei stopped, but he did not turn around. "We need to set up our meeting time."
For a second I thought he'd tell me to go fuck myself, or tell me that Spirit World's order didn't apply to him, or something similarly contrary. Instead his hands fisted at his sides, hard and unmoving and betraying tension Hiei probably didn't want anyone to see.
"I'll come to you," he said.
"No, you won't." The scarlet eye glaring over his shoulder would've scared me had I not felt so righteously indignant about his ridiculous suggestion. Drawing myself, I declared: "Sorry-not-sorry, Hiei, but you will not come waltzing in and out of my life whenever you damn well please. We will have structure, or Spirit World will have to find you a new parole officer." At that I smiled, tight and ironic. "And I can't guarantee they'll know how to make ramen like I do."
His brow shot up, nearly disappearing beneath the fabric of his white headband. I bit back another sarcastic line and put a hand to my head, eyes falling shut for just a moment. While mouthing off certainly felt nice, I knew with someone as taciturn as Hiei that it was a poor idea.
Schooling my features into a more neutral mask, I said, "Meet me at my house at sundown. We'll discuss more then." A glance at my watch had me wincing. "But for now, I'm late to school and need to go."
He made that 'tch' sound again, this time punctuated by an impressive rolling of his vivid eyes.
"Fine," he said. "Whatever."
Unlike Ayame, who disappeared between objects, or Clotho, who disappeared into the space between moments, Hiei disappeared much like he did in the anime: with athleticism. His knees bent, and with a flicker of black and a clatter of air so precise it sounded like a pool cue smacking an eight ball, he blurred from sight—moving too fast for me to follow with the naked eye. I stood there blinking at thin air until, distantly, the ringing of the school bell floated above the dark treetops.
Well, crap.
Even though I knew I'd get sweaty, I ran all the way back to school, stopping only briefly in the area with the shoe lockers to don my indoors slippers—and scribble a hasty note on the back of a receipt. This I stuffed into a certain locker, hoping that the owner would find the note and obey its instructions without being too much of an intellectual ass about it. My teacher made me stand in the hall during the first five minutes of the lecture as punishment for my tardiness, but to be honest, getting to be by myself felt…nice.
I'd likely become very social in the days to come, after all. Especially now that all four of the YYH boys were firmly affixed in different areas of my life. Alone time would likely turn scarce in coming weeks.
My classes passed fast, thank my lucky stars, lectures giving way to lunch without incident. Rather than head for the library stairs, however, I made my way through the halls to the back of the school. "Sorry, Kaito," I murmured as I exited the building and began the short walk across the back field. "But I'll be there in a jiffy."
The greenhouse, to my dismay, was empty. I called Kurama's name as I shut its door behind me, and I even walked to the little sitting area where he'd interrogated me to check for him. He didn't answer, nor did he reveal himself, so I sat on the bench with a sigh and put my head in my hands. Guess he hadn't gotten my note, after all.
But then, loud in the greenhouse's stillness, I heard the door click open. I sat up, head cocked in the direction of the door.
"Kei?" Kurama said.
Relief flooded my chest; I sagged back against the bench, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee and grasping it tightly with one hand. "Over here," I said as I lay my other arm along the back of the bench.
The sound of steps carried through the warm, humid air. Kurama appeared in short order. The pink of his uniform looked more like muted brown in the green light, though of course that same light only illuminated the green-glass of his eyes from within. He gave me a nod as he entered the clearing, but he didn't say anything as he sat on the bench opposite mine.
"You got my note," I observed.
The fox cross his legs, fingers steepling together above his lap.
"I did," he said. His lips quirked. "Kaito will wonder where we are."
"Well, he does always say he keeps me around so I can keep him on his toes."
"Yes. That's true." Kurama's smile faded, giving way to a look of pointed curiosity. "So tell me, Kei. How did the meeting with Ayame go?"
Five days earlier, directly after I got home from my Sunday meeting with Sato Shogo, I picked up the phone and called Kurama. He knew better than to ask why I wanted to meet, or perhaps his mother was nearby and he simply didn't wish to be overheard. Whatever the reason, he came to the restaurant within the hour. I met him on the front steps, hands twisting together like ropes snarled in a gale. He wore those terrible high-waisted mom-jeans so endemic to this time period, though somehow he looked good in them (what a jerk) and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled back. Plain, simple clothes, and yet he looked like he'd stepped off a runway somewhere and gotten lost, showing up in a pedestrian place like this. It's criminal, how good he looked wearing black—a color I couldn't recall him wearing much in the anime. Hiei, that goth wannabe, needed to take notes. Kurama's red hair gleamed where it lay on his shoulder, red highlights made all the more visible against the dark background of his shirt, and above that his pale skin and those luminous eyes glowed like lanterns in the dark—
Stop it, Keiko. You didn't call him for a date, even if Kurama was smiling at you with surprising warmth.
"Kei." My new nickname sounded oddly familiar when he said it, like Kurama hadn't coined it mere days ago. "I wasn't expecting another call so soon, let alone a request to meet."
"Yeah, well." I shifted from foot to foot, looking him up and down. "Consider the circumstances extenuating. Follow me."
He did so without a word. Just a smile, small and bemused, as I took us on a circuitous route through the restaurant to avoid my parents. We climbed to the second floor and headed down the hall in equal silence, until I opened the door to my room and stepped inside. Kurama paused, hand on the doorframe to look around. Surprise widened his eyes a fraction.
"What?" I said, affecting a comically cross expression. "Never seen a girl's room before?"
He smiled, laugh low and wry. "Can't say I have, actually. Not in this life."
"…Oh." But Kurama's romantic history was a mystery to ponder another day. I gestured at my desk. "Have a seat."
He sat; I leaned on the edge of my bed, too nervous to relax. Kurama's hands rested idle and unmoving on his thighs as he trained his eyes on me, expectant. Clearly he knew this wasn't just a social call, as well. I tossed my bangs out of my face and licked my lips. Somehow my index nail found its way into my thumb's cuticle, ripping at it like a piranha feasting on a carcass.
"Can anyone," I said, with a pointed glance at the ceiling, "listen in right now?"
Kurama paused, glancing at the floor. His eyes rose to mine with a reassuring smile. "No," Kurama said. "I have it covered."
"Good." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Said the following in a rush, not giving myself time to pause, to second-guess, to back down from what I knew I had to do: "Spirit World wants me to act as your parole officer and as Yusuke's handler. Maybe act as spy on you both. I'm not sure." I relayed Ayame's exact words with my eyes still closed, reconstructing her offer exactly as I remembered it for Kurama's benefit, even including Ayame's implication that Spirit World considered me 'interesting'. When I finished, I opened my eyes and found Kurama staring at me—expression totally blank, green eyes flat with suppressed emotion. Wincing, I said, "I'm sorry I didn't mention this sooner. I just needed time to process, and to decide what Ayame meant by everything." Taking a steadying breath, I spoke my intentions aloud for the first time. "I wanted to warn you before I accept their offer."
Some small, hidden uncertainty inside me gelled as soon as the words left my lips. Before I accept their offer. Ever since the meeting with Shogo earlier that day, I hadn't allowed myself to speak aloud of my intentions. Saying it aloud, even to myself, would make it all real.
And I'd been right. Now that I'd said what I intended to do, I knew there could be no going back.
Kurama's flat expression sharpened at my declaration, though I could still not discern his true feelings. He wore his masks too well. "So you intend to take the offer?" he asked.
"Yes." I attempted a smile, though I'm pretty sure it resembled a grimace more than anything. "I figure it would look suspicious if I didn't take the offer. Declining would make it look like I have something to hide."
"Which you do," Kurama observed.
"Which I do," I agreed—and at that I let my look turn sly. "But they don't need to know that, now do they?"
"I suppose not," Kurama said (and now a smile peeked through that bland, calculating mask, which made me feeling better far more than it should have). Kurama leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "It's possible they don't suspect the truth—suspect you, yes, but not of what you're truly hiding. When they asked me about you in Spirit World, the questions were general, leading, and unspecific."
A tightness unclenched inside my chest. "I'm happy to hear that."
"I'm glad." His lips twisted into a full, wry smile, then. "Your existence does stretch the bounds of credulity, after all. I truly doubt they suspect the truth. They could, for instance, merely suspect you possess psychic powers they did not predict."
"It's possible." There had been no hints to real truth of my life aside from certain conversations with Kagome; since they'd only begun suspecting me after the Kurama incident, I doubted they were aware of those. "But if I'm to find out what they know about me, I need an 'in.' This job could be just that."
Kurama said, "Friends close…"
"Enemies closer," I finished.
Kurama's neutral mask slipped entirely at that point, making way for a conspiratorial laugh. "I admit the idea of them recruiting you is perturbing, but I think it's prudent to accept their offer."
My heart leapt. "You do?"
"Yes." He looked out the window above my desk, lips curled. "Spirit World would never expect a mere human to attempt to manipulate them. They rely too heavily on the respect of humans, on humans treating them with reverence and deferential awe. But pride goes before the fall, as they say." His eyes slid my way again, warming slightly. "I appreciate your candor on this subject."
I could scarce believe it, let alone form my halting reply. "So…you're not mad at me?" I asked.
"Why would I be? You're being transparent—the only thing I've wanted from you since the day we met." His low, musical laugh made my toes curl inside my socks; I tried not to look overtly please at that tiny Kurama-smile he wore, that subtle look more telling than any overblown grin. He said, "I can hardly complain at honesty from you, Kei."
"Always logical, that's you," I said, hiding my pleasure behind a joke. "I admit there's another reason I want to take the offer, though."
Kurama's posture straightened. "Oh?"
"I don't know what they're planning when it comes to Zombie-kun. Or you, for that matter." My good cheer withered at the memory of meeting Ayame in the forest. "Ayame's wording…it bodes." But I pasted on a look of determination I didn't really feel, because I knew what I had to do. "If I take the job, I can warn you if they're coming after you, or after Yusuke."
The suspicion on his face cleared, making way for amusement. "What did you call it?" he asked. "Acting as an albatross?" Kurama shook his head, but he smiled as he did it. "It's so very like you, to protect others even while protecting yourself."
Agreeing with that statement would feel like paying myself a compliment, so I just hummed, noncommittal and evasive. Kurama laughed again—but then he sobered, one of his long, dexterous hands resting flat on the desk as he leaned toward me.
"Kei," he said. "I can care for myself."
My lips pursed; my brow shot up. "Haven't we been over my whole 'you-can-accept-help-sometimes' shtick before?"
"Yes. And while I recognize the wisdom in your logic, I would hate for you to suffer at the hands of Spirit World on my account." Kurama spoke with odd gravity, eyes intent on my face. "In fact, I will not allow that to happen. Not to you. Not after what you did for my mother."
It felt like the air had been sucked out from the room. Almost lightheaded, not wanting to examine the solemn promise of his words too closely, I lurched forward and smacked Kurama playfully on the knee. He blinked at the motion, looking quite taken aback by my rolling eyes. The spell he'd cast over the room, and over me, crumbled.
"Oh, don't be so dire," I teased, trying to deflect with humor. "Worrying is my job." I pasted on a look of overstated, cartoonish suspicion. "What are you trying to do, huh? Steal my job? Put me out of work?" I lifted a finger and pointed at him, head thrown back so I could stare dramatically down the bridge of my nose. "J'accuse!"
He bore my act with patience, matching it with a dry eye-roll of his own. "I'm allowed to fret, too, Kei. Allow me to be your albatross, for once." A teasing spark lit his eyes from within. "Or do you require me to parrot your own 'you-can-accept-help-sometimes' shtick back at you?"
I huffed, indignant, but I couldn't formulate an articulate response. Kurama's triumphant smile told me that he knew he'd won, but the smile faded when Kurama lifted his hand off the desk. He reached behind his neck, into the thicket of his lustrous hair—and my body reacted like a startled horse when he pulled a large round seed into view, legs propelling me backward over the mattress until I hit the wall behind my bed. Kurama blinked, lowering his hand as I gathered my knees to my chest and ducked my head, embarrassed.
"Um," I said. "Um, sorry. Gut reaction." To remedy his utter mystification I admitted in a small, mortified voice that "I associate plants with danger when you're within ten feet of them."
Kurama didn't react for a moment—and then he blinked, threw back his head, and laughed. It was the most heartfelt laugh I'd heard from him yet, rising from the depths of his chest like warm water flowing from a crack in the earth. A deeper sound than I'd expected from his smooth, sophisticated voice, too. I was so accustomed to hearing low, small laughs from him that this hearty chuckle reduced me to wordless staring, mouth dropped open, eyes bugging unattractively from my startled skull. Eventually the laughter faded, but the sound lingered both in his sparkling eyes and in my aching chest.
"A wise policy for my enemies," Kurama said when he stopped laughing. "Thankfully, you do not rank within that number." He held out his hand again, seed the size of a grape lying innocently on his wide palm. "This emits a field that disrupts Spirit World's typical methods of observation. I can ward them off with my own energy, but…"
"But I can't." Yet another manifestation of my powerless human nature. Ugh. Eyeing the seed, I said, "And that seed will do the dirty work for me."
"Yes. I am confident that this seed will provide you privacy. I admit I did my homework when imprisoned in Spirit World." His lips curled, but not into a smile. "A demon, doing homework. Seems my human life is sinking in at last."
"About time," I said. "You've only been human for 15 years."
"Though I wasn't planning on staying as such for this long," he said. "Seems I still have much to learn."
Tucking the seed into my pocket, I hopped off my bed with a bounce and a grin. "Well, thank your lucky stars you have a teacher." I jerked a thumb at the door. "Have you eaten dinner? My treat."
Kurama accepted the offer. My parents were, of course, absolutely delighted to see him, and even more delighted by the news his mother was set to come home from the hospital within the week. There followed a hundred offers to bring the Minamino family food, and of course they'd love to meet Shiori once she felt well enough to come visit. Kurama bore these offers and overtures with grace—but more than once I caught him watching me interact with my parents with the oddest look on his face. Like he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, or like something about my actions confused him.
But that, I figured, was a matter for another day, and I would not ruin this moment of sudden peace with my awkward curiosities.
"So Hiei is here," Kurama said. "I must admit that I'm surprised."
I didn't say anything. I wasn't surprised Hiei was back, of course—but so soon? Just a week or so after the incident with Botan had happened? I thought Spirit World would keep him locked up for far longer, or at least not let him out of custody quite so fast.
"Was he meant to come back?" Kurama said. "In the legend, I mean."
Kurama had listened to my report about the conversation with Ayame in silence, asking clarifying questions only a few times when trepidation muddied my wording. We had planned to meet after school to discuss my scheduled meeting with Ayame, but I couldn't wait now that Hiei had shown up. I needed to talk ASAP, not wait till after school.
"Yes," I said. "He's supposed to be Yusuke's ally—but eventually."
Kurama's brows shot up at that, not that I blamed him. Hiei's sudden heel-face-turn in the anime had stunned many the viewer over the years, too. The anime's favorite homicidal edgelord had turned into an honorable swordsman out of absolutely nowhere, and with no explanation other than Togashi simply changing Hiei's personality to better fit with Yusuke's group. It was a fandom mystery, wondering what had precipitated Hiei's shift in personality, trying to find a logical reason for a change that made no sense in canon.
And of course, per my usual habits, I had to worry and wonder about what Keiko and Hiei knowing each other would do to canon. Was it my job to turn him into the kind of demon that would become Yusuke's ally, or would that happen without my interference? Or would he become something else entirely thanks to this new association of ours?
"You're worried you'll affect fate again."
My head jerked up. Kurama regarded me with a regretful smile, apologetic as though he'd been the one to cause my anguish. That martyr.
"Of course I worry," I said, closing my eyes. "I always worry."
"I don't blame you. Not in this instance." I heard him shift atop his bench, clothes rustling in the still air. "Truth be told, I'm shocked Spirit World considers Hiei redeemable at all. He detests humans without exception, so far as I know. And he seemed particularly vicious in recent months." A pause, in which Kurama doubtless studied every angle of this problem. Eventually he asked, "What made him decide to aid Yusuke in your legend?"
"Pragmatism, mostly. Orders from Spirit World and the promise of parole."
That was the honest truth, of course…it just omitted the anime's aforementioned uncertainties. Was it worth mentioning that the 'legend' was hazy on the whys and hows of Hiei's conversion? Was it worth mentioning that King Enma occasionally brainwashed demons to attack humans, and that some members of the fandom had speculated Hiei could be counted among that number? I'd seen fans justify Hiei's early-series behavior with that excuse. Brainwashing would certainly explain the personality change…
"To be honest, the legend wasn't so clear about why Hiei joined Yusuke aside from the chance of parole," I decided to admit. Best keep some details to myself, because they might not even be relevant, and Kurama wasn't meant to know of King Enma's deceptions just yet. "It wasn't clear if you and Hiei kept in contact before Spirit World asked you both to help Yusuke, either."
Another brow lift from Kurama. "I'm meant to be his ally, as well?"
Uh oh. Was that too much to reveal? But it was too late to demure, so I admitted, "Yes. With promises of a scrubbed record for your cooperation."
Kurama nodded, considering this as he stared past me and into space. The fox didn't care to share his thoughts on the subject, sitting in silence under my watchful gaze. Eventually he shook his head.
"As for my continued association with Hiei," he said, "I doubt that's up to me. If Hiei does not wish to be found, he won't be. He'll come to me if he wishes, then and only then. So please: try not to worry about him, so far as I'm concerned."
I snorted. "Easier said than done."
His head tilted. "Are you nervous?"
"Who, me? Nervous?" My voice rose with fevered humor. "Are you kidding? Me, nervous? Never. I'm never nervous. Nerves of steel, that's me!"
He pinned me with a look. "Kei…"l
"Oh, fine," I grumbled, deflating. "Of course I'm nervous." I threw up my hands and shook my head, making a wordless sound of frustrated rage. "The last time I met Hiei, he kidnapped me and straight up tried to murder my best friend! Of course I'm nervous! Hiei might try to straight-up murder me, too, and who knows if you'll be there to take a sword through the gut to save me like you did Yusuke? Also, by the way, thanks for that. Yusuke's important and him dying again would've been really, really bad." Dropping my hands, I looked Kurama over. "Speaking of which. Can I ask you something?"
He waved, indicating for me to go on.
"OK, cool. Well, it's been bugging me for a while now, but—why were you at the warehouse that night?" When Kurama arched a brow, I said, "In the legend, you went to help Yusuke since he saved your mom. But he didn't save her, so some of the connective bits for this story's plot aren't adding up."
"Ah. In that case, allow me to ameliorate your uncertainty," Kurama said with a small, amused smile. "Hiei isn't exactly subtle when he wants to show off. I could sense his energy, and I surmised he must be fighting someone." He paused, then admitted, "And you were missing, as well. It wasn't hard to piece everything together."
"Missing?" I said, sitting up straighter. "How did you…?"
Kurama hesitated—which wasn't like him at all. I waited as patiently as I could (AKA, with my foot bouncing like that rabbit from Bambi) as he stood up and wandered to a nearby trellis.
"I went by the restaurant the day after we used the Mirror," Kurama said, fingers trailing up and down the vines climbing to the wooden climber. "I went to get answers from you." Kurama kept his back turned to me; I could not see his face. "I found the bowls in the alley. Saw signs of a struggle. And when Hiei's energy lit up like a bomb, Yusuke's followed suit."
I hadn't known any of this. All I could manage was a small, "So you came to…?"
"Help you, I suppose," Kurama said.
He turned around, then. Our eyes met. The silence said a lot—but to be honest, I wasn't sure precisely what words it spoke. My relationship with Kurama was still so uncertain. We were so similar, our secrets so aligned, but this was so new, a path untouched by feet before…
I did not fear him any longer. But that didn't meant I knew what I felt yet, let alone what Kurama might be thinking behind those cloistered eyes.
"It's not often I act on impulse," he murmured, "but…"
"Well." I ducked my chin, rubbing shyly at the back of my neck. "Whatever the reason, thank you. You saved Yusuke's bacon."
"It was nothing," he said, voice cool but kind. "Repayment of a debt."
"If you say so." I stood up, stretching my arms over my head with a satisfying pop of shoulder. "I'll keep you posted about Hiei. I told him to meet me after school, though who knows if he'll do show up."
Green eyes flashed like thorns in moonlight. "Do you want me to be there?"
"While I'll admit the thought is tempting, no, thank you. Don't want to spook him, and he might still be angry with you." I made a show of flexing my bicep. "I can handle him."
"I believe you," Kurama said, smiling at my bravado, "but do know that you can call me should you require reinforcements."
I didn't look at him. I grabbed my schoolbag and busied myself with its strap, muttering a sidelong, "Sure, sure."
Kurama was smart enough to realize I was avoiding making promises. He stepped toward me, reaching until his fingers just brushed the edge of my sleeve. His scent of mint and earth carried on the breeze, calming and familiar.
"I mean it, Kei," Kurama murmured. "Hiei is dangerous." Green eyes searched my face. "You don't have to face this alone."
"I know," I said. I pulled my arm from his grasp; he kept his hand outstretched, then let it drop at the sight of my can-do smile. "But, ah…give me a chance, all right?"
It took him a moment to reply. "All right," he said—but he said it grudgingly, and I knew that if he felt Hiei's energy spike again, I'd more than likely wind up with an angry fox demon on my doorstep.
The thought, I will admit, brought me comfort.
We left the greenhouse in silence. Halfway across the back lawn, however, Kurama caught my eye.
"Kei," he asked. "Have you told Yusuke about Spirit World's offer?"
"Not yet," I said. Kurama looked skeptical. "Spirit World is suspicious of me, and I wanted to talk that out with someone who's in-the-know about me before telling him." I kicked at the grass, strands green and delicate with spring's new life. "Yusuke knows me really well. I haven't told him yet because he'd be able to tell I'm worried, and about more than just their offer. But I plan on telling him soon."
"Soon is best, I imagine," came Kurama's dry observation. "And you haven't told him your secrets yet, either."
"Yeah." I hated admitting it, but it was true. Yusuke, with his utmost importance to canon, was the last person I wanted to alienate with my secrets…but then a new thought occurred to me, one I eagerly grabbed as a distraction. Cocking a hip, I said, "By the way. Yusuke knows you're on parole and that you go to my school, so he'll probably find out that we're associating no matter what. Are you OK with me telling him about your—I mean, our situation?"
He shook his head. "I don't mind. He knows my true nature, regardless, and does not seem the type to betray my trust."
"OK. Good." I gestured at the school. "We should be getting back."
Kurama nodded; we fell into step beside each other, heading for the school doors and then the library after that. As I opened the stairwell door, however, I paused.
"Say, Kurama?" I asked.
His head inclined. "Yes?"
"Have you ever thought about telling your mother the truth?" I asked. "The truth about you, I mean."
For a moment I wondered if I had crossed a line. Kurama's look darkened, eyes fixing on me like a wolf spotting a rabbit—but then one thin brow rose high. The tension abated.
"Have you ever thought of telling your parents?" Kurama inquired.
His tone said that no, clearly I had never considered telling my parents, and it would be useless to claim otherwise—and damn him, he was right. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Ducked my head, lower lip jutting in a sullen pout.
"Fair point," I muttered.
Kurama's low, satisfied laugh sounded like a smirk made audible. I stuck out my tongue and marched forward up the stairs, hoping that by the time we reached the top, my incriminating blush would have faded. Either way, Kaito didn't seem to notice. He just glared as Kurama and I appeared at the top of the flight, slapping his book closed between both of his hands.
"Finally," he said. "Now where, exactly, have you two been?"
Kurama and I traded a look. The hard edge to his green eyes faded as he adopted a cool, pleasant smile.
"Oh," said Minamino Shuichi, "we were merely exchanging pleasantries. That's all."
Promptly at sundown, I marched into the alley behind the restaurant with a bowl of ramen balanced on each hand. These I set atop a wooden produce crate, a crate flanked by two boxes to use as seats. I'd already arranged the drinking glasses, spoons, chopsticks, and paper placements, creating a makeshift table setting for tonight's featured guest. I'd considered finding some flowers for a centerpiece, but something told me Hiei might just set them on fire to be ~edgy~.
Despite my dramatic tendencies, I just didn't have the patience for that.
"Hiei?" I said when the last traces of sunlight vanished from the sky above. "Are you here?"
Behind me I heard a distinct flitting noise, the hiss of air parting as something moved faster than I could see. Turning, I found Hiei standing behind me with his hands in his pockets, hunched at the shoulders like he'd been walking through a storm. The light above the restaurant doors caught his eyes, brilliant scarlet color reflecting like an animal's in the gloom.
"Hungry?" I said. I gestured at the crate-table. "Sit."
Hiei did not sit. He just stood there, staring, until I lost my patience and rolled my eyes.
"OK," I said. "Be that way and stand, then."
The fire demon didn't move as I sat down; he merely tracked me with his gaze, watching as I cracked my chopsticks and dug into my ramen—and then his eyes flickered to the bowl sitting across from mine. Oh, so he could be plied with food. Or at least tempted by it. Good to know.
"Spirit World has told me I need to meet you with once a week, as your…well. As your parole officer." I paused to slurp down a bite of delicious noodles. When I finished I set down the spoon and crossed my arms. "I'm thinking here, Thursdays, sundown. Is that acceptable to you?"
Finally Hiei moved, even if it was to simply curl his lip into a hateful sneer. "Do I even have a choice?" he spat.
"Well. Yes." When his eyes widened, clear surprise etched into his features, I raised a hand and started counting on my fingers. "I could meet you in the morning instead of sundown, if you'd prefer. Friday mornings before school I have a late-start day so it wouldn't be trouble. Tuesday nights are the biggest conflict in my schedule since I have aikido. But—"
Hiei's low growl silenced me. From between grit teeth he said, "Sundown. Thursday. Fine."
Prim and proper and polite, I picked up my chopsticks and chirped, "Good! Then it's settled." I scooped up another bite of noodles and blew on them, regarding Hiei over their steaming tangle. "So…what are you going to get up to while you're on parole, do you think?"
"That is no concern of yours," he flatly returned.
"Actually, it kind of is?" I said. "As your parole officer, I'm supposed to know what you're doing. But—"
Hiei didn't let me finish. Teeth flashing between snarling lips, he let out a derisive cackle and pointed one accusatory finger in my direction.
"Just as I thought!" he said, voice full and deep with darkly gleeful triumph. "You're just another dog of Spirit World. For all your talk of pride the last time we met, you're nothing but—"
"Excuse you, but I wasn't done."
Hiei shut up real fuckin' fast when I suddenly started talking in Mom Voice. He actually stepped back a pace at my quiet, I'm-not-mad-I'm-just-disappointed tone, watching with grit-toothed apprehension as I patted my lips with a napkin and set my chopsticks down.
"Before you interrupted me," I said, "I was going to say that what you do is, in fact, my business—but nevertheless, I will respect your privacy as best I'm able for the duration of your parole."
Hiei's eyes already dominated his face, giving him the look of a perpetually startled child, but just then they seemed to swallow the rest of his features whole. I suppressed a smile, trying not to marvel at how such a rude, prickly person could look so damn adorable. He'd likely main me if I told him that, anyway.
"Eat your soup," I said, gesturing at the bowl across from me. "It'll get cold if you don't hurry."
Hiei didn't move. I sighed and picked my chopsticks up again. Hiei reminded me of Sorei, my nearly-feral pet cat—unsure if I meant him ill or well, but tempted by the food I offered and surprised that I wasn't mistreating him. But perhaps it was with fire demons as it was with feral cats: patience and avoiding overt eye contact would win him over.
Eventually.
Maybe.
If he felt like it.
I ate my soup for about a minute before Hiei moved. His foot slid over the ground; I looked up and he froze, staring with that oh-shit-they-see-me expression cats wear when they're caught sneaking into someone's home. We held that stare until my eyes started to water.
"So," I said when I couldn't stand the silence anymore. "Do you want to eat your—?"
Hiei's eyes flared like sparks from a summer bonfire. His body rippled in the dark, and with a burst of displaced air the demon vanished before my eyes.
The bowl of ramen across from my vanished, too. I threw up my hands and scoffed.
"I meant eat here, not—" The futility of arguing had me shaking my head and shouting full-voiced at the sky. "At least give the bowl back when you're done, you hear me?!"
Hiei never replied. Part of me suspected I'd never seen that bowl again.
Muttering to myself about devious demonic ingrates ("My goddamn feral cat has better manners that you, Hiei!"), I gathered up the unused spoons and chopsticks ("What're you gonna do, kiddo, eat ramen with your hands?") and put the crates back where they belonged ("I went to all this trouble to be nice, but no-o, you've got a chip on your shoulder like the Mariana Trench and you stole my fucking bowl!"). This whole meeting had been anticlimactic as hell, not to mention annoying. Just how the heck was I supposed to keep an eye on him when he couldn't stand to be around me for more than ten seconds at a time?
On the plus side, he hadn't brought up the vision of Hiruko he'd seen in my head, in this very alley. I'd been wondering if he might, but I hadn't wanted to dredge that up with Kurama just yet (not when I still couldn't decide how many details it was safe to reveal about my association with Hiruko and Cleo). Not before I could ask Hiei himself about it.
Because who knew? Perhaps Hiei could bring to light more of what I had, apparently, forgotten. So long as he didn't try to use it against me somehow…
I put that thought out of my head and resolved to think about it later. Focus on the positive, girl. Even if this night hadn't gone to plan, and even if Hiei had all the charisma of a feral cat, at least nothing bad had come of tonight's meeting.
(Aside from my stolen bowl.)
(And Hiei had best believe I'd be following up with him about that.)
After I cleaned up, I took my dishes inside and grabbed a jacket off the peg by the door, shouting a goodbye to my parents and an excuse about needing to look something up at the library. The walk to Yusuke's house passed faster than I wanted it to (who me, avoiding responsibility? No way) but soon I found myself standing on his porch. I let myself in (I had a key, natch) and saw Atsuko snoring on the couch, empty bottle of liquor dangling from one unfeeling hand. Just as I crossed the room to pull a blanket over her, Yusuke appeared in the doorway to the living room.
"Keiko?" he said, blinking at me like an owl in a floodlight. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi, Yusuke." I straightened up, took a deep breath, and smiled. "Can we talk in private?"
Somehow a moth had winged its way into Yusuke's room. It fluttered around the light in the center of his ceiling like Icarus around the sun; I tracked its futile progress as I explained everything to Yusuke. As if by some cosmic coincidence, the moth found a place to land on the light's ensconcing fixture just as I stopped talking.
Yusuke took a long time to speak, stunned into silence by Spirit World's offer just as I had been.
"Well, isn't that just great," Yusuke eventually groused, every single syllable dripping with sarcasm. "Just fuckin' peachy of them. I can really tell they care about me." He rolled his eyes so hard it's a wonder they didn't come tumbling out of his head. "Spirit World can't be happy just butting into my life; they have to butt into yours, too." But he shot me a sidelong glance, one filled with wry accusation. "Though honestly, this doesn't surprise me."
"It doesn't?" I said.
"Hell, no! You're already so deep in my shit, who else would they ask to watch my back?" He jammed his elbow into my ribs, cackling at my incensed expression and startled squawk. "You've got a severe case of the mom-face, Keiko. Too responsible for your own damn good, that's for sure!"
Like Kurama had days prior, Yusuke listened to my explanation of Ayame's offer in silence—only he'd listened with his mouth wide open, eyes bulging from his skull. When I finished he'd shaken his head and groaned, but luckily for me, most of his ire seemed direct at Spirit World itself.
"So you're not mad I took the offer?" I asked.
His lips puckered. "I mean, I don't like the idea of you being involved, but…look on the bright side. At least this way I don't have to worry about keeping things from you." His look turned sly. "Spirit World can't get mad at my big mouth if you're my assistant, now can they?"
"I suppose that's true," I said—but inside I winced. Yusuke was worried about keeping things from me, but here I was with earth-shaking secrets of my own…and he had no idea. When would the day come that I couldn't keep my secrets any longer, and was Kurama right? Was sooner best when it came to revealing them?
But now wasn't the time to ponder that. Better alone, in my room, where worry could consume me in isolation. I didn't want Yusuke sensing my discomfort. He had his own stresses to contend with.
"And besides," he was saying. Another elbow in my ribs, gentler this time. "This way I can watch out for ya if demons like Hiei get any more big ideas."
"That was my thinking," I confessed. "We're in this together. If I'm in, I can warn when you Spirit World pulls stupid-ass shenanigans."
Yusuke scowled. "And that's probably going to happen sooner rather than later, knowing them." He flopped back, landing with a whump atop his mattress as he draped an arm over his eyes. "Gah! Why the heck did I even sign up for this job, anyway?"
Getting up, I sat in the chair next to his bed. "Easy. You took it so you could come back to life to hang out with me"—I flipped my hair when he peeked out from under his arm—"your favorite person in the whole, wide world."
Yusuke sat up at once. "When the hell did I call you that?" he said, chucking a pillow at me. "Now you're just making shit up!" I stuck out my tongue; he grabbed another pillow and threw it squarely into my face. "Don't make me cut a hole in your skirt again, 'cause you know I will, dammit!"
I picked up the first pillow and held it like a shield, warding off the third and final projectile he lobbed my way. "Fine, fine; uncle, uncle!"
We squabbled for a few minutes more while I re-made his bed and he groused about me claiming the title of Yusuke's Favorite Person (which we both knew was true, but no way would he admit it). Once we settled down again Yusuke let out a long, tired sigh.
"So what happens now?" he asked. "Do they give you assignments to give to me, or what?"
"I think so," I said. "They told me they'd leave case material on my desk."
Yusuke grinned, letting out a raucous, grudging laugh. "Ya know, for all the crap I say about Spirit World, they got one thing right. You're way more organized than me."
I giggled. "You'd lose copies of case files in two seconds."
"What can I say? I've never been very good at remembering homework," he said with a delinquent's preening pride. "It's just one of my many talents."
I could only glower. "Y'know, that's not actually something to be proud of."
"Yeah, yeah, Grandma; whatever." He dismissed me with a nonchalant wave. "So what else? You give me cases and keep me focused? That's it?"
"Well." I shifted in my seat; Yusuke's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "There's one more thing."
It was Yusuke's turn to glower. "Uh oh. That's not good. I haven't seen you look this worried since I died." He smirked. "In fact, I think I just heard your butt-hole clench from across the room."
"Yusuke, gross," I said—but I could hardly be mad, not even when he laughed like a perverted hyena. "Sad thing is, you're not actually wrong." Now to cut to the heart of the matter. I took a deep breath and asked, "Remember Kurama?"
The name caught his attention at once. Eyes dark with sudden concern, Yusuke leaned toward me. "Yeah?"
"He's out on parole."
Yusuke's worry vanished, eyes once again bright as he pumped a fist into the air. "All right, good for him!" he said, pride and approval obvious. "What did I tell ya, Keiko? I always said he wasn't so bad. Just got a little lost trying to save his mom, that's all. Anybody would've done the same."
"Agreed," I said, but my happiness at Yusuke's good attitude didn't last. Bracing myself for a reaction, I said, "But…"
His eyes narrowed again. "But what?"
"But…he's also back at school." Yusuke blinked. I hesitated before blurting: "And I'm sort of his parole officer."
"You're WHAT?!" Yusuke yelped.
"And I'm Hiei's parole officer, too—because he's also out of prison and definitely living in town."
In a flash Yusuke leapt to his feet, right there in the middle of his bed. Arms akimbo, legs cocked like a cowboy swaggering down a boomtown avenue, his face resembled a tomato in two seconds flat.
"Are you freaking kidding me?" he barked. "You're going to be the parole officer of the demon who kidnapped you? Who almost killed Botan? What the shit is Spirit World thinking, letting a demon like that back into Human World?!" He paused, then repeated, "After what he did to Botan?!"
"No idea," I said. "But they must have some reason to think he'll reform, or—"
Or nothing. Yusuke bolted off the bed and scrambled for his hamper, yanking out clothes and tossing them over his shoulder in a storm of dirty laundry. Muttering under his breath about kicking diapered asses, Yusuke dug in the pocket of a pair of jeans and pulled forth a compact mirror. I had barely registered that this must be a Spirit World communication Mirror before he wrenched it open and bellowed into it, device held mere inches from his face.
"Hey, toddler bitch!" Yusuke roared. "You reading me up there? Because I've got a bone to pick with you and I'm two seconds away from getting hit by another car so I can pay your ugly ass a visit! You hear that, ya baby-faced asshole?!"
He paused. I got up and looked over his shoulder, but I beheld nothing more than a set of standard reflective mirrors inside the compact. So too, apparently, did Yusuke. He smacked the mirror against his thigh, then shook it before yelling at the blank screens some more.
"Koenma!" Yusuke screeched. "Koenma?! Answer me, dammit, or I'm comin' up there myself!"
Alas, no one replied. Yusuke shut the mirror and flopped onto the floor with a wordless cry of frustration. I sat by his side, trying to look sympathetic to his plight—but internally I heaved a massive, what-else-was-I-suspecting sigh. I'd had a feeling he'd react badly, but not quite to this level.
"Damn thing must be broken." Yusuke lifted the compact to his face so he could glare at it. "Or they're just ignoring me, which is even worse, because they have some explaining to do, and fast."
"Yusuke, don't worry." When his eyes darted my way, I offered him a soft smile. "I'll be OK. It's all fine."
He sat up, rolling to his knees in front of me with a pointed glare. "No, Keiko, it isn't fine. Making you my glorified secretary is one thing, but making you watch a guy like Hiei? That's nuts!"
He wasn't wrong, but he didn't know the whole story—that Spirit World was likely trying to throw me off balance with the introduction of Hiei, trying to stress me into doing something stupid while they observed me from afar. But I couldn't tell Yusuke that.
…right?
Keeping things from him was getting harder and harder. But where was the line? At what point would he stop trusting me if I revealed my origins? How long could I lie to him without hurting our relationship with my (probably inevitable) reveal?
I wasn't sure. And I hated that I didn't know the answer. But maybe Ayame would out me, make the decision so I wouldn't have to…
No. That was the coward's way out.
I'd figure it out eventually, I told myself. Soon. For the sake of my friendship with Yusuke.
"If you feel that strongly about it," I wound up saying, "why don't you come with me the next time I have to see Ayame?" His ears metaphorically perked at that idea. "It's certainly better than you killing yourself again to win a trip to Spirit World."
I was gratified to see his eyes light up with determined darkness.
"Yeah," said Yusuke. "Yeah. I think I'll do just exactly that."
Relief tingled in my chest at the sound of his acquiescence—because Hiei and Yusuke weren't meant to see each other again until the Saint Beast arc. I didn't relish the thought of them coming to blows before that, before Hiei had his change in personality (however that was supposed to happen). The question was, could I keep them apart until they were meant to meet?
And better yet…should I even be trying to keep them apart in the first place?
At home that night, after my various conversations with Yusuke, Hiei, and Kurama, all I wanted was to sink into a warm bath, drink my bedtime tonic of seltzer water with sliced lemon, and go to sleep. I needed—no. I deserved some Me Time, dammit, full of blessed silence and indulgent self-reflection. After a day like the one I'd had, I felt destiny owed me that much.
Unfortunately for me, fate had other plans.
I'd have to give Cleo a good talking-to when next we saw each other.
Oh, I got my bath, and it was as great as I'd imagined. But I'd only just poured my seltzer and settled into bed with my journals full of stories when my phone rang. I debated answering, but in the end I grabbed it off the cradle and muttered a tepid, "Hello?"
"H-hey, Keiko? It's, um. It's me."
Kuwabara's gravelly voice was uncharacteristically quiet this evening, as though he didn't want to be overheard by whoever might be near. I sat up in bed and set aside my notebook.
"Hey," I replied, trying to sound less peeved at the interruption. "What's up?"
"Nothin', I just…" He trailed off, then breathed a shaky sigh. "Look, are you busy right now?"
"No," I said. Working on my novel wasn't nearly as important as supporting a friend. "Are you OK?"
"Um." Another long pause. "Do you think you could tell me the rest of that story?"
I didn't react for a second.
"The…the one about Buttercup?" he said. As if maybe I'd forgotten telling the first half of the Princess Bride a few weeks prior—though to be fair, it felt more like years prior. "I just—I'd really like to hear the ending, if that's OK?"
"Of course it's OK," I replied. Injecting as much soft understanding into my voice as I could, I asked, "Do you want to hear it for, um…for the same reason as last time?"
Despite my indelicate attempt at being delicate (talk about embarrassing), Kuwabara merely sighed. I didn't need to see his face to picture bags beneath his eyes, nor intuit the tired sag of his broad shoulders. I hadn't seen him since the day I'd been kidnapped by Hiei—the day Kuwabara had shown up at my school to give me a warning, and had apparently been tormented by the ghost of a woman I could not see. Would he look as haggard as he sounded?
"Because the last time I saw you, you seemed really spooked," I said, referring to the day he'd shown up at my school. Going out on a limb, I ventured: "You've told me before you can see ghosts. I can't help but wonder if you're seeing something tonight that's got you spooked, too."
I trailed off, hoping my suspicions weren't too terribly off-base. Luckily Kuwabara just sighed again. He sounded even more tired than before.
"Yeah," he said. "You're right. Somethin's got me spooked."
A long pause followed. I waited, patient, until he found the nerve to continue.
"Tonight there's—" He stopped, then said in a strangled tone, "There's a woman here and she's covered in blood and she won't leave me alone, so I thought—"
"Say no more," I said, because it didn't sound like he was capable of saying more, anyway, and it would be better if we acted like his silence was my idea. "Let me just figure out where we left off, get your mind off things. OK?"
"OK," Kuwabara said—and I thought his voice might crack in half. "OK, Keiko. That sounds good."
The Princess Bride rolled off my tongue with all the comfortable familiarity of a warm blanket. I cuddled down into my bed as I told Kuwabara the story. He listened without speaking, though the farther along I got into the action, the more he began to react, to come out of his shell, to show glimmers of humor amidst the tension gripping him so tightly. By the time we reached Westley's demise in the depths of Count Rugen's torture chamber, Kuwabara had loosened up enough to gasp aloud.
"Wait, wait, no, that can't be right," he said, unknowingly mimicking the little boy from the movie adaptation. "You have to be remembering that wrong. Westley can't die—he has to go save Buttercup from marrying the prince!"
"You want me to finish the story or not?" I said, playing the role of the grandfather with relish.
It took the two of us a while to reach the end of the story (because I had to act out Inigo's famous slaying of the aforementioned Count with all the theatric panache I could muster). When I describe Westley and Buttercup's ride into the sunset, Kuwabara let out a contented, happy sigh. It turned into a squawk of embarrassment when I described their famous kiss, but luckily the boy's blush didn't burn a hole through the phone.
"And that is, of course, the end," I said when it was through.
"Aw, man," Kuwabara said, heaving another cozy sigh. "That was great. I wish I knew more stories like that."
"Unfortunately, the Princess Bride is a singular tale," I lamented. "But I'd be more than happy to tell it to you again, if you have another night like this."
Kuwabara started to say something, but he stopped. My heart shriveled at the sound of his frustrated curse.
"Is this happening often?" I asked.
"Yeah." He spoke quickly, curtly, not like my sweet Kuwabara at all. "It's just getting worse and worse. Some nights, I can barely sleep. It's like—it's like I'm being held hostage in my own skin."
I knew that feeling better than I dared admit, which only made my heart hurt all the more. "Could you go to someone for help?" I asked.
"My sister and my dad just tell me to tough it out," he said, words muffled as though coming through clenched teeth. "They said it got worse for the both of them at my age, too, but I don't know. This is pretty bad."
"Maybe there's someone else who could help," I said. "Someone who could help you control your powers."
"Or just turn 'em off completely," he grumbled. "I'll take whatever I can get."
A frown tugged the corner of my mouth. His sensitivity must be bad indeed, for him to suggest getting rid of his powers completely. I just hoped he'd find his way to Genkai somehow—or should I be the one to mention her, now that I knew of her? Hadn't Shizuru been the one to suggest Genkai to Kuwabara in the manga?
Whatever. I'd force the issue of consulting Genkai if it came down to it…but something told me Fate wouldn't let Kuwabara miss out on that trip into the mountains.
"You'll let me know if I can help, right?" I said. "If there's anything I can do at all?"
"I will," Kuwabara said, "but don't worry about me, Keiko, all right? You help enough with these stories." I heard the grin in his voice so clearly, I could practically see it. "Do you think you could come up with a new one for when I call again?"
I said yes. Of course I said yes. Pretty sure Kuwabara could talk me into jumping off a cliff if he smiled wide enough. In fact, I was smiling when we hung up, rolling over in my bed to hug a pillow to my chest. His attitude, cheerful even in the worst of times, was like the sun after a long trek on a stormy sea.
And besides: Even though Kuwabara was suffering, in his pain I could see a reluctant silver lining. His overactive powers led him to Genkai, which led him to the Spirit World…which led him to battling at Yusuke's side in the Saint Beasts' tower. That in turn brought him to Kurama and Hiei.
It brought them all together.
It brought my boys together.
The bubbles had all popped in my glass of seltzer water by the time I turned off my bedroom lights and curled up to go to sleep, but the bubbles of excitement in my chest just wouldn't quit. As a result, sleep would not claim me right away. My eyes widened in the dark when the reason why hit me—the reason why I felt so energetic as I lay there, why I felt like smiling, why I felt like throwing open the window and howling delight at the waning moon.
Somehow, against all odds—I felt optimistic.
I was in contact with all four of my boys, now.
The wheels of the plot had been nudged into motion, despite changes to our story's canon.
Soon they would meet, and fall into step at each other's sides.
All I needed now was patience.
Kurama no longer desired my blood. Yusuke and Kuwabara I counted among my closest friends. And while Hiei was a work in progress (a prickly, snappish work in progress), he was at least permanently affixed in the picture of our world. From here on out I could support each of my boys in turn, nudge and direct and patiently push the flow of their fates in the directions they were destined to go.
Supporting others, I'd found in recent days, was a form of control I enjoyed. It was in the act of supporting them that I would find my serenity—or would seek it out and claim it for my own, if it came down to it.
Today had been a good day. Best day I'd had in a while, in fact.
As I fell asleep at last, I could not help but smile.
NOTES:
I'll be participating in NaNoWriMo in November. I won't be updating during November but will be back with weekly updates in December. Next chapter will be the last for a month, but I'll see y'all again on December 9 with chapter 49. Wish me luck as I work on my original novel!
(Psst. I think this was the first chapter with scenes with all four boys. Huzzah!)
Am going to try to cram a LOT into the next chapter to leave y'all with a cool ending before my hiatus. THANK YOU SO MUCH to those who reviewed the previous chapter! The comments that were left were just SO KIND; it gave me a ton of encouragement to keep going. Love you all! ED99, Skylar1023, Counting Sinful Stars, xenocanaan, LadyEllesmere, Just 2 Dream of You, Mayacompany, tatewaki2000, Yume, EmmieSauce, zubhanwc3, 431101134, MyMidnightShadow, wennifer-lynn, MusicOfMadness, Kaiya Azure, MemeLord5000, MyHeartBeatingMWMI, Dreaming Traveler, Maester Ta, Lady Rini, MissIdeophobia, SilverNeira, general zargon, Yakiitori, DiCuoreAllison, Bergholt Stuttley Johnson, rya-fire1, Marian, buzzk97, Miqila, RedPanda923, ahyeon, Tsuki-Lolita, Andania Shinrai, Dec Jane, Eternal Raine, marieeula24, Reclun, Finniansama, Ghiro, and two guests!
