Warnings: None


Lucky Child

Chapter 50:

"Surprises & Prophecy Fulfilled, Part 2"


So as not to get trampled when I made a mad dash for Shizuru, Kuroko stepped neatly aside and rounded the couch as I ran past. From the corner of my eye I saw her approach Shogo and give him a small, chaste kiss, but the cute moment barely registered. I had bigger things to worry about—things like lifting Shizuru off the floor and into my arms, laying her head on my knees so I could peer into her sunken face. She didn't reply when I said her name once, then twice, then a third time, and her mouth only thinned when I (perhaps too aggressively) patted her cheek.

"Oh, don't worry," Kuroko called. She'd taken up her spot in her favorite green armchair, one leg draped casually across the other. "She's just tired, that's all."

"Tired or dead?" I muttered.

"Tired," Kuroko said with a bright and merry laugh. "Fubuki and Kasei really wore her out."

I shot the woman a sharp look, because oh my god, anything but that. "You sicced the kids on her?"

"Of course! How else will she learn to take on more than one opponent at a time?" At that Kuroko winked. "Plus, it tires the twins out and gives Shogo and I a little peace and quiet. They probably put on that video you gave them and fell right to sleep."

"That's true," Shogo agreed. He seemed to notice my worried expression for the first time, slapping on a reassuring expression for my benefit. "And besides, Keiko. Shizuru gave the twins a run for their money the last time they sparred. There's nothing to worry about, I promise."

"If you say so," I said, meeting Shogo's sincere eyes—but then Shizuru stirred atop my thighs, and I had to look away.

"Keiko," Shizuru grumbled. Her eyes opened into mere slits, like the lights above could blind her. "Keiko, you're…"

"I'm here," I said.

"And you're loud."

She chuckled when I gaped at her, a soft, chuffing laugh low in her chest. I flicked her nose and scowled. "First time I see you since I dropped you off at the start of the summer, and first thing you do is insult me? And to think I was worried about your ass."

"Your mistake, kiddo," she grated out, and with a grunt she managed to sit up. "Now help me into bed before I fall asleep on the floor, would ya?"

Kuroko directed me through the archway below the stairs and down the hallway beyond, where a small guest room availed itself on the other side of a cracked door. Shizuru's suitcase sat open in a corner, her bed unmade and unkempt. I dumped her on the bed and hauled her feet atop the sheets, tutting at the sight of her muddy boots. The Sanada/Sato household followed the Western custom of wearing shoes indoors (mainly because it proved impossible to train the kids to take them off at the door, Shogo had once explained) so it was up to me to remove them from Shizuru's leaden feet. She didn't help me at all, head lolling atop the pillow, hair tangled over her mouth and nose like it wanted to strangle her.

"Look at you," I murmured when I set her shoes aside. Combing the hair from her face, I studied the lines of her mouth, jaw, eyes, and brow, noting the myriad scratches gouged into her pale flesh. Bruises darkened the complexion below her eyes and peppered the skin below her collarbone, exposed under the scooped neckline of her tanktop. More bruises and cuts adorned the length of her arms, the jut of her thin knees. Dirt had collected beneath her fingernails in black crescents—but the gashes on her knuckles drew my eyes away. She'd been punching things, clearly, but the twins had appeared unscathed.

Just what did Kuroko have Shizuru doing, anyway, to reduce her to this condition?

The apology came out on a whisper. "I'm sorry, Shizuru."

One baleful hazel eye cracked open. "What're you moaning about now?" she asked, voice a rasp of displaced air.

"I got you into this mess. This whole thing, it was my idea." I waved at her bloody, bruised, battered body. "And now you're…"

When I trailed off, Shizuru suggested, "Stronger?"

"Are you?" I asked. "Or are you just beaten beyond recognition?"

She managed to glower using just one eye. "Takes more than a few brats with fast fists to beat me, kid."

I didn't agree, looking instead at the torn skin on her hands. Shizuru's other eye opened, turning the glower into a full glare. She ignored me when I told her to lie down, rising up on her scraped elbows despite my urgings, winding one hand into the front of my shirt for purchase. I shut up when she hauled me down to eye level—and not merely to placate her.

The fire in her eye could've rivaled Hiei's, just then.

"Listen up, sugar. This might have been your idea, but I agreed to it." Her grip tightened, pulling me even closer. "Don't hog all the credit, now. You hear me?"

My throat lurched when I swallowed—and though I hated to admit it, in that matter, she was correct.


Shizuru listened to me in silence for almost an hour as I explained everything Kuwabara had kept from her—and the things even he didn't really know. She had burned through at least three cigarettes by the time I finished, sitting back in her chair with a fourth glowing between her fingers.

"Huh," she said, pensive. "Interesting."

I fidgeted in my seat at her kitchen table, hands a knot in my lap. "You're not freaking out."

Shizuru tapped her cigarette into the ashtray at her side, thoroughly unimpressed. "Kid, Yusuke got smashed into jelly by a car and then came back to life. Demons ain't shit." A long, dispassionate drag, smoke exhaled in a silver plume toward the ceiling. "So this Genkai. She'll make Yusuke and Kuwabara stronger?"

"Yeah." My voice dropped low. "And good thing, too, considering what Spirit World has already thrown at Yusuke."

"And considering my baby brother's habit of sticking his nose places it doesn't belong, he's got a snowball's chance in hell of staying out of it." Shizuru took another drag, longer and slower than before. "So who's this lady demon-slayer you mentioned?"

"Sanada Kuroko. She was the Spirit Detective before Yusuke." I didn't bother mentioning Sensui. Now was not the time.

Shizuru considered that a moment, eyes like a shark's—sensing everything, blood scented on the water, a drop in the ocean but still as clear to her as a summer day. If she heard the omission in my voice, she chose not to mention it.

"And this Sanada woman can make me strong?" Shizuru said. "Put me on baby bro's level?" At that she looked utterly disgusted, as if her cigarette had been packed with roach droppings. Shizuru muttered, "God. 'Baby bro's level'. Even saying that makes me nauseas."

"If we can get her to agree to train you, she can do that—probably, anyway." It pained me to be so honest, but I had to tell Shizuru, "I have no guarantee she'll be interested in training you, but…"

"But if she isn't, I'll just find someone else. She's as good a place to start as any." Ever the practical, unexcitable woman I'd admired so much in the anime, Shizuru took another drag and shrugged. "So how do we find her?"

For a moment I couldn't speak. Much though I'd wanted Shizuru to agree to my plan, it hadn't taken much convincing at all to get her to agree—just a recitation of Yusuke's story, explanations about demons and Spirit World, and yet she was already on board. It had never occurred to me that convincing Shizuru would be this…well. This easy.

Things didn't typically come easily for me in this life. I guess I just wasn't accustomed to getting my way.

I said, "You want to train with her just like that?"

"Keiko, if I don't get on his level, baby bro is liable to get his dumb ass killed," she said with maddening calm. "Least I can do is make sure I can punch out a demon if need be, right?"

I stared at her. She stared at me, as unimpressed as ever, unflapped and unruffled even in the face of staggering impossibility—but even if I hadn't expected her to agree so readily, this was Shizuru we were talking about. She of the razor mind and hidden competency, the woman I'd long lamented had never been trained in canon to her fullest potential.

And now, here we were. Here she was. Willing to be trained, and perhaps realize that potential at last.

I needed to calm down, I decided. No sense looking this gift horse in the mouth.

"Well—well, OK, then!" I said, forcing myself to smile. "I know Kuroko's husband and can call him right now, set up a meeting, test the waters and whatnot."

Her head jerked toward the kitchen proper. "You know where the phone is. Hop to it."

And with that, there was nothing else to talk about—not really, anyway. I walked to the phone, dug my datebook from my purse, and plugged in Sato Shogo's phone number. As the line connected and began to ring, I glanced over at Shizuru. The light from the kitchen window turned her brown hair gold, her eyes to chips of amber in her dusky skin. She leaned her chin on her hand, watching me, cigarette poised over the ashtray, smoke from its tip winding in lazy spirals around her tumbling hair.

She was so much older than the rest of the Yu Yu Hakusho gang—older, but still young.

Still so young.

The words came out before I could check them. "You're sure about this?" I asked.

One expertly-plucked brow lifted. "I'm not in the habit of agreeing to shit I'm not sure about, Keiko." A smirk curled across her mouth like smoke from a cigarette. "And besides. No way am I letting my baby brat brother get the one-up over me."

The line engaged before I could reply. "Hello?" Shogo said.

There would be no going back after that. Shizuru had made that clear.


Even though the hand tangled in my shirt felt strong and sure of itself, the haggard, hollow cast of Shizuru's thin cheeks made the breath catch in my throat. "I just—is this too much? Did I put too much on you by suggesting this?" I asked, breathless with nerves and anxiety.

"Like I said. Stop worrying so much. It'll give you wrinkles." She smirked, that cunning curl of the mouth that made her bright eyes glitter and made my pulse start sprinting. Her arm flexed, pulling me another inch closer. "You're too pretty for wrinkles."

My cheeks colored in spite of myself, and I rolled my eyes. "Aw, shut up."

"I will if you will." After one more smirk, she let go of my shirt. The action sent her flopping back over the pillows again, head bouncing boneless atop her neck. She managed to summon enough strength to pull a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and pull one forth, filter catching between her chapped lips. "Now leave me be, kid." Her eyes fluttered. "I have a date with…my mattress…and…"

Shizuru lapsed into sleep mid-sentence, cigarette hanging from her mouth until her lips parted in a snore and sent the object tumbling. I plucked it off her shirtfront and set it carefully on the bedside table before covering her with a blanket. Was it just me, or didn't the exposed muscles of her arm seem more defined that before, the cut of her waist slimmer under her baggy shirt? Hard to tell. It had been a month since I'd last seen her, and then her curves had been hidden under a men's suit jacket and baggy trousers. However, if she said she was stronger, I had little choice but to believe her.

It's not like I had the spiritual sensitivity to check that claim for myself, after all.

Once Shizuru began her well-deserved nap, I headed into the living room. Shogo and Kuroko stopped chatting when I entered, greeting me with nigh-identical smiles and murmurs of greeting. I nodded in return, coming up behind the couch so I could grasp the cushions for support.

"You're not going easy on her, I see." My low voice carried in the quiet, echoing room. "Isn't that right?"

Kuroko's eyes thinned into merry crescents. "Of course. She'd never get strong if I went easy." The woman stood. "Would you like another glass of lemonade, Keiko?"

As she busied herself with fixing the glass, I sat down. Kuroko cut an impressive figure, one I couldn't help but admire even though I'd met her many times by then. So tall, with such trim and defined musculature beneath her simple jeans and loose black blouse—and that hair, long and shining and tied back in a simple, low tail. Had she been so inclined, she could've been a model in another life. Her cheekbones were certainly defined enough, and she would stun on camera with those liquid eyes and her lovely, delicate jaw.

Too bad her carriage ruined all of it.

Well, maybe 'ruined' was too harsh a term. It's just that she angled her body so her back never faced an entrance to the room, and even when smiling her eyes roved across the room in endless rounds, studying and cataloging and monitoring moment to moment in an endless loop. Her hands, too, moved with the surgical dexterity of a killer's, not a single movement wasted or unintentional. Watching her had unsettled me the first time we met, but it had taken a few visits to realize exactly why—not to mention the time she'd walked up behind me on silent feet and nearly made me piss myself when I turned and found her staring at me from no more than six inches away. She'd even regulated her breathing down to nothing, I noticed, rendering her as imperceptible as a shadow in the dark.

Kuroko, for all her pretty face, had the demeanor of an assassin and the calculating eye of a practiced hitman. To see her was to see death walking, even in spite of her pretty smile.

I tried not to stare as she poured the lemonade and sat down, though I know I likely failed. Words babbled forth to cover my unease: "So may I ask what you've had Shizuru doing? Now that I've seen her, I feel secrecy isn't necessary anymore."

Kuroko looked pensive, then laughed prettily behind a hand. "No, I suppose it isn't. And nothing special. Strength and endurance testing, plus mediation to hone her spiritual powers." She paused, then added, "Oh. And basic survivalism."

My brain conjured an image of Bear Grylls drinking his own piss; my nose wrinkled. "Survivalism?"

Shogo turned a warm eye toward his wife. "My darling Kuroko is of the opinion everyone should learn to start a fire, gut game, build a lean-to, and construct a deadfall in the event of pursuing enemies."

"Don't knock it, sweetheart!" Kuroko laughed. "Served me well hunting demons in remote areas. I'd be dead if I hadn't studied survivalism, and you wouldn't have such a lovely wife to dote on." Her gaze returned to me. "Nature tests your skills in ways a living opponent never could, and Shizuru has adapted flawlessly. She's a great student, your Shizuru." A wry smile twisted her lips. "Though I'm afraid she's taught my children some rather interesting new vocabulary."

"Sounds like Shizuru, all right," I said, unable to keep a smile at bay. "Thank you for training her."

Kuroko laughed again, hand waving in dismissal. "You always thank me when you come here, and you really don't have to!" A measuring look, though a humorous one. "So polite. Maybe I should get your mother to teach my little monsters some manners, since she did such a remarkable job with you."

That got me to laugh, too. "Yeah. Mom is a stickler for proper decorum, that's for sure."

"Perhaps she's why you overdo the thanks." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Really, Keiko. Shizuru is gifted. I was happy to take her on. And it's good practice for the day the twins start training in earnest." Kuroko preened a little. "Never thought I'd be a teacher, but I'd like to think I'm not half bad."

"I don't think you're half bad," Shogo assured her, and she swatted his arm and giggled.

"I don't thank you because of my mother."

Shogo and Kuroko looked my way with surprised looks, falls of their faces similar thanks to years of mirroring each other's expressions. I told clarified, "I don't thank you because of my mother. I thank you because it's warranted." I reached for my lemonade, hands slipping around the cold glass as I composed myself. "Shizuru is protective of her brother, and if he's associating with Spirit World, I want her to be safe if she starts looking out for him. To have the ability to fend for herself against all Spirit World throws at her." My smile felt brittle, somehow, like the fragile glass in my hands. "That's why I have to thank you. Because you're safeguarding her wellbeing."

Luckily Kuroko got it, to some extent. Smile empathetic, she said, "I understand. Spirit World isn't known for their care of their employees. They truly embody the utilitarian Japanese notion of putting the good of many over the good of the individual." A glance askance at Shogo, loaded and dark. "I will admit that was my second reason for agreeing to this. All those who ally with the new Detective ought to be able to protect themselves."

"Right."

"It's just too bad I can't do much to help you, Keiko." And suddenly she wasn't smiling anymore. No—quite the opposite, in fact, voice tinged with a worried resignation that made my pulse kick up. "I wish I could…especially considering the company you keep."


As Shizuru had before her, Kuroko listened to my story—the story of Yusuke, Kuwabara, Kurama, and Hiei, not to mention me—in silence. This silence didn't unnerve me as Shizuru's had. After all, Sanada Kuroko—the Detective two appointments prior to Yusuke's—knew about Spirit World and Demon World already. A lack of reaction from her seemed normal enough.

For the most part, anyway.

When I fell quiet, she didn't move. She merely stared at me with those liquid black eyes of hers, eyes tight at the corners yet revealing no emotion. I fidgeted under her gaze, under the unspoken tension in her presence, but eventually Shogo put a hand on Kuroko's knee. They sat huddled together on the couch like twin statues of the Buddha, watchful and still.

"Honey," Kuroko said, eyes locked on me. "What do you make of all of that?"

"She's sincere, if that's what you're asking," Shogo replied. "Furthermore, Hideki vouched for her."

Kuroko's eyes flickered to Shogo, the tiniest bit of recognition lightning them from behind—along with the barest zephyr of sharp regret. So Hideki's word did matter to her, then. Not for the first time, I wondered at that relationship, though I knew better than to pry.

"And I trust her personally, as well," Shogo said. He managed to spare a smile, where before he had remained so stoic. "I read her palm, and I saw candor there."

Between the recommendations of Shogo and Hideki, Kuroko appeared satisfied—at least in part. She sat back in her seat, legs crossed, arms folded beneath her breasts. She gave me a long, slow onceover, then did the same to Shizuru. "Hmm. And you're the sister of the new Detective's best friend?"

Shizuru, lounging indolently beside me, didn't move an inch. In fact, her lips barely moved when she said, "That's the story." Mostly because a cigarette perched between said lips, unlit, but not wasted. Kuroko had made Shizuru put her cigarette out at the door. ("I hope she doesn't think she can make me give up smoking," Shizuru had muttered as she put out the light under her heel, back when Kuroko first asked. I got the feeling she kept the unlit cigarette in her mouth for comfort, even if she couldn't smoke it indoors.)

Kuroko's eyes returned to me. "And you're another friend of the Detective's."

"Yes," I said.

"The one Spirit World decided to turn into a…parole officer, was it?"

"A record-keeper, is the term they keep using. But yes." Hoping I hadn't botched my explanation of my duties, I repeated: "I keep an eye those two demons Yusuke defeated in a recent case, and I send written reports of Yusuke's activities to Spirit World."

Kuroko's eyes fell shut. Movements deliberate and economical, she rose to her feet and walked silently to the window beside the fireplace. Her back to me, I saw only the barely reflection of her face in the glass when she said, "You never should've taken that job."

At first, the comment refused to sink in. "Excuse me?" I managed to blurt.

"You never should've taken that job." Fatigue, old and creaking, turned her rich voice brittle. "Spirit World shouldn't have asked you, but you never should've accepted. Shogo's told me he thinks you're smart, but if you ask me, you have a lot to learn."

Shizuru inhaled through her nose, sharp and startled. I merely froze. Shogo, however, immediately sat up straight, pivoting toward his wife in his seat. Light from the window caught his glasses, obscuring his eyes from view.

"Kuroko," he said, words low and full of warning.

"No, Shogo." She turned, face finally full of emotion she didn't bother hiding—but I didn't see anger there, despite her heated tone. "You remember all the demons we fought back in our day. But do you remember the people they killed?"

Shogo started to speak. Kuroko shook her head.

"I remember," she said. "Their names, their faces, every last one of them. I remember them all." And then she rounded on me again, eyes blazing like coals. "That demon who took the body of a human boy, the kitsune you spoke of—he may well have killed that soul to takes its place. Has that occurred to you?"

Amidst the horror of that suggestion, it clicked—what I saw in her eyes, I mean. It wasn't anger driving her in that moment, to make that suggestion and call me an idiot.

It was fear.

It was fear, raw as an exposed nerve, totally incongruous with what I'd expected of Sanada Kuroko. I'd expected…well. I'm not saying anyone who's afraid disqualifies themselves from being a badass (fear is too universal for that generalization), but in that moment, that's how I felt. The first Spirit Detective, afraid? What the heck was going on here?

"That's not what happened," I said, rising to Kurama's defense. "He didn't kill anything to become human."

"How would you know? You really trust a demon to tell you the truth?" Her words, despite their structure, didn't sound derisive—merely tired, edged with apprehension, and blunt as a club of wood. "I've seen things you wouldn't believe. Terrible things. And if those things taught me anything, it's that demons are not to be trusted."

The thought of Sensui invaded, that Detective who could not handle shades of grey thanks to his dependence on monochrome. Heart in my mouth, I said, "Surely it isn't so black and white as that."

Kuroko surprised me again. "No. It's never black and white," she said, with a toss of her long black hair. "I'm not so dense as to lump all demons together. I've met many who merely wished to be left alone, who didn't prey on humans. But the demons you're dealing with moved against Spirit World, to the detriment of the humans in their path. That is what makes them what they are: their callous disregard for human life."

And yet again, my surprise rendered me speechless…because she was right, at least so far as Gouki and Hiei went. They didn't give a crap about human beings and considered them cattle for the slaughter.

Kurama, however…

It was as if she read my mind. Hands fisted at her sides in quivering lumps. "You might have found yourself going to school with a demon, Keiko, and he might do a convincing impression of a human boy, but don't forget what he is." Those eyes left no room for argument, no room for doubt. "Don't you forget that, not even for a moment."

It was all I could do to mutter, "He isn't like the others."

"Maybe not," Kuroko said, dry and muttering. "But from what I've heard, he had no problem allying with Gouki, eater of children. And we are the company that we keep."

The accusation stung, even if it wasn't aimed at me. Yes, Kurama had allied with Gouki in order to rob Spirit World, but then he had parted ways with Gouki, and on poor terms. Gouki had been a means to the end of healing Kurama's mother. That was it; that was all. It's not like Kurama had stolen the children's souls himself, right?

"Kurama wouldn't have approved of Gouki's behavior," I said, readying myself to defend him. "He was busy with his mom. If he'd known what Gouki would do, I'm sure—"

"If he'd known?" Kuroko countered. She shook her head, tutting. "I'm sorry, Keiko, but the Rapacious Orb is used for the sole purpose of stealing souls. What else would Gouki have used it for?"

My words died. Kuroko shook her head again.

"Kurama was preoccupied with saving his mother, yes," she said, "but he didn't try to stop Gouki from hurting children, nor did he try to stop Hiei from using the Shadow Sword—not until after he owed you a favor, and not until after he'd saved his mother. And that, to me, speaks volumes about the kind of demon this Kurama is."

Though she'd made a point—a point I hated to concede rang true—no pleasure or triumph colored her voice. She looked weary after pointing out the obvious, and nothing more than that. She didn't taunt or rub my face in her logic. She spoke with all the exhausted enthusiasm of a surgeon after a day's-long surgery, all facts and cold logic and tired, tired feet.

And I felt weary, too, hearing these words from her.

Kurama…he hadn't tried to stop Gouki or Hiei, even knowing what they might do with their stolen treasures. He'd focused on his mother and nothing else, with no thought to the innocent humans who might run afoul of his former partners.

On the one hand, I could rationalize this as a moment of selfishness. Kurama once admitted he had a selfish streak, especially when it concerned his mother. But here I was, trying to defend his honor, and even I had to admit his record of decency was not clean. That he wasn't totally virtuous, and had made decisions hat ignored the potential for collateral damage in his haste to complete his goals.

That fact made my heart hurt, like Kuroko had reached her hand into my chest and squeezed.

"And that's saying nothing of the fire demon," she went on. If Kuroko drew any conclusions from my silence, she didn't voice them. "That one tried to kill you, and you willingly monitor him for Spirit World. You willingly associate with a creature who tried to murder you, and harmed the ferry girl." She drew herself up to her impressive height, shoulders squared, feet spread. "You I can forgive, Keiko. You're still a child, and you're clearly an optimist. But Spirit World…they should be ashamed, putting this burden onto you, or onto your young friend Yusuke."

She nearly spat the name of Koenma's domain. A hundred forgotten histories lay in the pronunciation of that title, in the way she voiced it with contempt and—at last—barely-restrained fury. I got the sense her aggression in this moment didn't lie with me at all, even if I acted as her current whipping boy.

And of course, I was keenly cognizant that this woman had led a markedly different life than mine. This first Spirit Detective possessed a wildly different perspective than Keiko—and a perspective wildly different than Sensui, and even Yusuke, despite their shared title. Sanada Kuroko saw Keiko as an ignorant teen, and she saw demons as adversaries she had fought many times before. I couldn't fault her perspective, not knowing precisely all she'd seen—but that didn't make her judgmental words any easier to hear.

Against my thighs, my hands curled tight. Nails bit into my palms in cutting moons.

"I might be an idiot," I said, voice shaking in spite of my attempts at control, "but I'm not totally without a form of rationale."

Kuroko's brow lifted. Next to me, Shizuru murmured to hold steady, kid. I shot a glance at her and managed a shaking smile.

"That's why we're here, after all." Looking at Shizuru girded my nerves as if my bones had been replaced by steel. "To ask if you'll train Shizuru, and to see if you'll…"

"I can't make you psychic." Kuroko looked like she regretted saying the words out loud; when I'd asked for that from her during my earlier story-telling, she hadn't replied right away. Now, though, she spoke with apology in every syllable—apology that stung, because asking her for that favor was only slightly less important than seeing Shizuru trained by the former Detective. "It would help me sleep at night if I could, knowing you had a way to defend yourself, but I can't. I'm sorry." She glanced to my left. "You. Shizuru, was it?"

A curt nod. "Yeah."

Kuroko lifted a finger and trained it right on me, though she still addressed Shizuru. "If I train you, you'll protect her. Promise me."

I couldn't suppress a gasp. Shizuru, meanwhile, just shrugged. "Sure."

"Promise me," Kuroko repeated—and her eyes were blazing again, on fire with purpose and passion and a ferocity I had only before seen mirrored in the eyes of my own mother, the day she marched up to Iwamoto and ripped him a new one at Yusuke's funeral.

Shizuru knew what that look meant. Her legs uncrossed. She plucked the cigarette from her mouth, sat up straight, and met Kuroko's glare head on.

"I promise," Shizuru said.

Her hand crept sideways off her lap to tangle with my fingers. Kuroko watched as our hands intertwined, and then something in her sagged.

"Then fine," Kuroko said. It was her turn to smile, lips thin and set in stone. "If you're going to tangle with demons, I'm going to make sure at least one of you is prepared to take them on."


In the present, Kuroko heaved a heavy sigh. "It's just a pity you lack spiritual sensitivity, and that I don't know how to trigger it in others." Her wry smile held little humor—only kind remorse. "You looked so disappointed the first time you asked and I said no."

I got the sense Kuroko would've done it if she knew how, if only to afford me protection from the demons in my life. I told her, mostly sincerely: "It's OK. I'll figure out a way someday."

"I bet you will," she agreed. "And good thing, too. If there's one thing I'm all for, it's women learning to kick ass and take names." She aimed her following comment down the hall, voice raised. "Isn't that right, Shizuru?"

Silence replied. Shizuru did not. Kuroko giggled. Shogo coughed into his fist and said, "Perhaps let her sleep, dear."

"Oh, fine. Spoilsport." Kuroko settled back against her seat, favoring me with interest. "Tell me, Keiko. How go your duties? They never formally recruited Shogo or Hideki as my assistants, and I admit I'm still shocked they recruited you." Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "And that you accepted, of course."

That last line wasn't snide, nor even accusatory. Kuroko was above petty bickering or passive digs. I did, however, detect a current of concealed frustration—the same frustration that dogged all of our conversations about demons or my association with Spirit World. Last time I'd visited, I hadn't been careful enough with my temper or pride and had reacted badly to one such remark, innocent though I knew it was.

Her distrust of Kurama, however warranted given her past, still managed to strike a nerve with me.

"Listen, I get that you saw a lot of crap when you were Spirit Detective," I'd snapped during my last visit, when she muttered a remark against demons under her breath. "I get that you think I'm some dumb kid who can't see the forest for the trees, but Kurama and Hiei aren't like other demons, OK?"

We'd been washing dishes at the time, standing side by side as Shogo picked up the remains of lunch. Kuroko's hands stilled around her work, eyes sliding toward me askance. I don't think she'd expected me to hear the remark, much less react to it, but she didn't act overtly put off by my reaction, either.

Kuroko's smile came thin. "So you've said."

Her casual, dismissive reaction crawled under my skin and snuck there, a subtle but persistent parasite. "What, and humans are really so great all the time?" I shot back. "You ever read a book about prison camps, genocide, war? Humans aren't some paragon of virtue, y'know."

"I don't deny humans can be just as callous as demons, Keiko. I never denied that," she said—as calmly as a parent arguing with a stubborn child, infuriating in her patience. "But you have to stop acting like a naïve girl. Kitsune are famous for their preference for pretty girls. Do you really think that that fox of yours won't try to get a taste if you let him?"

I'd been spoiling for a fight, honestly, weeks of remarks rolling off my back finally too much to bear…but the suggestion that Kurama wanted a "taste" rendered me quite mute. Mute and red-faced like a tomato with a sunburn, much to my chagrin. Kuroko watched me stammer and blush before chuckling under her breath.

"So that's it. Teenage hormones, eh?" she murmured. "The fox is pretty, so he gets a pass?" But it wasn't a criticism, just a thought, and she began to wash her dishes again, no longer looking at me. "Demons bank on human emotion and attachment when hunting prey. It's just the truth of it. Keep an eye out. Demons do not change their ways, Keiko, and no amount of wishing will alter their true nature."

Thank my lucky stars Shogo is the perceptive sort, because I'm pretty sure that when he called Kuroko away to help him with something, he didn't actually need help at all. Her absence gave me the room to breathe, and to remind myself that she didn't know Kurama. That she was wrong, and she'd see it for herself eventually.

I just hoped I didn't cause a repeat of last time today. It was time to be on my best behavior, lest I incur another blow-up.

"They demons I'm watching aren't all bad," I said, voice pleasant and even and not at all defensive (I hoped). "At least Kurama is a good conversationalist."

But that little tidbit didn't bring Kuroko any peace of mind. "The fox. He worries me more than the fire apparition," she said with a slow shake of her dark head. "I tangled with more than one kitsune in my day, and they are too tricky for their own good."

Ugh. This again, her fixation with the deviousness of the fox demons. A deep breath quelled my need to come to Kurama's defense—and gave me the calm necessary to agree with Kuroko, at least in part.

"Well, this fox certainly fits the tricky stereotype." When Kuroko looked startled by my admission, I added, "But he's also…softer. Gentler."

That pulled a laugh from her. "Gentler. No doubt thanks to his time spent in Human World."

My smile came polite and cool.

It was possible she was onto something with that theory.

It was also possible she was just plain wrong.


"Sooo… I need your help."

Kurama didn't bother to ask with what. He chuckled, said "I'll be over shortly," and hung up.

It was rare for us to talk on the phone these days. We called to request company, but asked little by way of explanation before coming to one another. It was nice to have such trust established, even if it left us in suspense from time to time.

I just hoped Kurama wouldn't turn around and march in the other direction when he heard what I wanted him to do for me this summer.

The midday rush had caught my parents in its tide, so we avoided small-talking with them when Kurama appeared in the alley behind the restaurant half an hour later. "And a good thing, too, because we'd be stuck with them for hours if I didn't sneak you up," I explained as we climbed the stairs. "They really roll out the red carpet for you."

"Do they?" Kurama asked, but in that too-innocent way that meant he knew damn well what I was talking about. "I can't imagine they'd treat me any differently than the rest of your friends."

"Of course you can't," I said, eyes rolling. "Mister Humility, that's you."

Another of his low, musical chuckles. He was well aware my mother thought him cute, and smart, and well-spoken, and certainly a fitting match for her darling daughter ("If only you'd relax your silly dating rules!" she'd lamented to me, well within Kurama's range of hearing at a recent dinner). Eyes rolling harder, I opened the door to my bedroom and ushered Kurama in. He'd been there a few times at that point, but even so, he entered the space with all the hesitant care of an explorer walking a slippery bridge over a plummeting waterfall. I sat on my bed and watched him make a circuit of the room—the same circuit Hiei had made when he crawled in my window, in fact.

And Kurama ended up in the same spot, too. Namely in front of my record player. Interesting. These two had more in common than I thought. Kurama showed the record player some interest, too, skimming one long, pale finger over the player's lid.

"I have this same kind at home," he said.

"Ah. Really?" It was rare for Kurama to talk about his home life, for all the theories and philosophies about our existences we'd shared with one another. "That rig is really nice. Great sound quality. My parents got it for me for my birthday last year. I told them not to get the good one, too expensive, get an off-brand and cheaper option, but they'd just opened the second location and wanted to splurge." Hyper-aware that I'd rambled, I added with haste: "Your mom get you yours?"

He hummed an admission, hand travelling from the lid and down to my collection of records, alphabetized by the names of their artists. He traced the titles one by one, eyes roving across their names as if to memorize them.

"So you like music?" I said. But then I shook my head. "Stupid question. Of course you do. Everyone likes music. I guess it'd be better to ask what kind you like."

His hand stilled. Green eyes narrowed, mouth turning down at the corners. My own mouth thinned in response. It wasn't often anything gave Kurama pause, much less a mundane topic like music. So why…

"I…don't, actually," he said.

I frowned. "What?"

"I don't know much about music at all." Kurama looked sheepish, or something close to it. "I'm afraid it's simply not my area of expertise."

"You…" My mouth worked around empty air for a moment. "Oh. Um. Well, what records do you have?"

"Just the ones the player came with," he said, shoulders rising and falling almost imperceptibly. "They, too, were a gift from my mother."

We lapsed into twin silences. Kurama continued to peruse my collection, ticking through the sleeves and observing the titles on the spines. I, meanwhile, stared at him, until my mouth moved of its own accord and a single word slipped through.

"…wow?"

His quizzical green gaze turned my way. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Maybe?" I swallowed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Just…I guess I figured everybody likes music. That's all."

While I'd never pegged Kurama as a true music junkie or anything, he'd listened to swing-dance tunes with me when we watched the Lindy Hoppers at our usual café. He'd abided the moments I played Megallica in the background while we chatted, and he'd never complained about pop music during nights at the karaoke lounge. Sure, I hadn't heard him express preference for any one song or another, but…to not like music at all? To have no preferences at all? That I hadn't expected. That I hadn't counted on in the slightest.

And here I thought I'd really gotten to know the guy. Joke's on me, I guess.

"I enjoy listening to music, when it plays," Kurama said with another understated shrug. "I simply don't have any opinions about different types."

"Everyone has opinions about music," I said. But because that sounded super judgey, I made sure to say, "I mean, it's OK if you don't, but…are you sure you don't have any? Any at all?" My mouth quirked; humor rose to cover the awkwardness. "All I'm saying is, Megallica is an acquired taste, and I'd hate to subject you to too much metal if it's not actually your jam. You sure you're not holding out on me?"

Though I spoke the words (mostly) in jest, Kurama didn't take them as such. He pivoted on one heel, hands settling into the pockets of his jeans, eyes as hooded as they were distant. One hip leaned against my music stand with care, testing its heft until it bore Kurama's weight.

"To be honest, I didn't think I'd need any preferences," he admitted, voice low and somber and ponderous. "Music, art…those things are not part of life in Demon World." Verdant green darkened to deep teal. "Or if they are, they are comforts for the weak."

At first I wasn't sure what he meant. It hit me soon enough, however, when he once more caressed the top of the record player—eyes full of pain, emotion shuttered and guarded yet still visible beneath his composed veneer.

"You were planning on leaving," I said as realization dawned. "Why would you bother learning about human music if you never planned to hear it again?"

For a moment, he said nothing. But then the taut set of his shoulders slackened, and he sighed with a heavy look in my direction.

"Why develop a taste for human art when I didn't intend to enjoy it past my tenth birthday?" At that his eyes flashed with a spark of heated jade. "Why bother learning how my mother's gift operates, how any human device operates, when I never intended to use them once I left this world?"

These were rhetorical questions, of course. I didn't bother answering them. I watched as Kurama turned back to the record player, not quite touching it, as though fearing it might break if he came near.

"But now you're staying," I said when the silence stretched long and thin.

It stretched even longer and thinner before he murmured his reply.

"But now I'm staying," Kurama admitted. "Which means, I suppose, that I should develop tastes of my own."

His fingers hovered over the record player's arm, not quite touching, not quite daring to get close. With a pump of leg I rose from the bed and walked to his side.

"Want me to show you how it works?" I offered.

He looked relieved, almost. "I recall the basic operations, but a refresher course might not go amiss."

With a grin and a flourish I reached for a record. "Lucky for you, I'm quite the music buff. Let's see. What to pick?" I spun a record between my hands, replaced it, and grabbed another. "I figure you for a classical guy, but maybe that's cliché of me to assume? So why don't we start you off with a universal favorite like Johnny Cash and go from there. Everyone loves Cash." Handing him the record, I pointed at the player and the turntable on top. "So what you do is set the record here, take the needle, and…"

True to his nature, Kurama learned to use the record player in a flash—but even though he was such a quick study, I couldn't help but wonder at this little surprise. First Hiei had proven adept at using human tech, and then Kurama didn't? His reasons made sense, given he disdained humans until just recently, and had planned to leave this world until just recently, but still. This was quite the shocker, though I tried not to let him see my consternation.

I never truly could let my guard down in this world, could I?

No matter what I did, the people in it would never cease to surprise me.

When music filled the room, Kurama took a seat at my desk. I sat on my bed. It was rare for Kurama to relax, to stop his calculating brain on its constant track of thought—but for once, it seemed like he'd managed to find a moment's peace. His eyes closed as Cash sang, head listing to one side as though in sleep, shoulders free of the wary tension so typical of my friend the fox demon. It was nice to see, frankly. I was the overthinker of the two of us, but Kurama held deep tension in his own right.

"I have much to learn about this world, now that I intend to live in it," he said in a silent space between songs. "Thank you, Kei."

I couldn't help but be absurdly, stupidly pleased with myself at that statement. I ducked my chin, hoping to hide the hectic blush staining my cheeks by facing the wall. Yeah, the wall behind my bed. It was an interesting wall. Definitely worth looking at instead of the boy in the corner. Mmm hmm. Yup. Definitely.

"Don't mention it," I said to the wall, hoping I didn't accidentally burn a hole in it. "What're friends for?"

He laughed, all soft velvet amusement and satin warmth. "Speaking of. You asked for a favor on the phone. How may I be of assistance?"

Ah. Perfect distraction. I turned back to him with a chipper grin, hoping the blush might pass for excitement (though given the sudden conflagration in his eyes, I doubt my plan succeeded).

"It's a little weird, admittedly. And definitely against the rules of at least a dozen institutions, but…how good are you at breaking and entering?"

Kurama said nothing, but he did give me the most amazing dead-fish stare—one belonging to a person who was thoroughly unimpressed with me, which made me cackle like a banshee. Ah, so his past occupation was still a source of pride for him, was it? Good to know.

"Rhetorical question," I said. "You're the king of thieves. You'd be amazing at pulling a B&E. You'd be perfect at it."

He smiled, all curving lips and glimmering eyes and a dark, slow chuckle that made my toes curl. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Kei—even if I enjoy the way you make it sound."

"Ah. I see. Then how do you feel about begging? Because I'm afraid I probably can't afford a bribe." Clasping my hands under my chin, I batted my eyelashes and stuck out my lower lip. "How's this? Help a girl out, Kurama; you're my only hope. Pretty please?"

He laughed, louder than before but with no less enthusiasm. "Who am I to refuse such a polite request?" Kurama said. I wasn't sure if I was happy to see the interested gleam in his eyes, or if I should have run screaming in the other direction when he asked with barely-restrained relish, "And what, pray tell, is our target?"

"The target is Meiou High School," I told him—and judging by the shock in his green eyes, he hadn't been expecting to hear that.


NOTES:

YO. SO EVERYBODY GO CHECK OUT MY TUMBLR, BECAUSE YYH IS GETTING A NEW OVA/SHORT ANIMATION BUNDLED WITH THE 25th ANNIVERSARY BLU-RAY BOX SET. NEW CONTENT. NEW YYH CONTENT. GO READ ABOUT IT ON MY TUMBLR. USER NAME LUCKYSTARCHILD. NOW GO. GO READ. NOW.

Ahem.

Second part of the frame-story-time-skip-chapter-that-covers-the-events-of-Keiko's-summer-break, ahoy! There will be three parts total of this.

Doing something a little ambitious. Another chapter (part 3) will come out…probably this Wednesday, though I'd like to have it out earlier if I can. Next Saturday, this story turns one year old (!) and I'd like to have this up to 52 chapters at that point. 52 chapters, 52 weeks in a year, I'm a sucker for symmetry like that…so consider it my Christmas/fic-birthday gift to all y'all.

AND THE NEW YYH SHORT WITH THE BLU-RAY RELEASE IS THE BIRTHDAY GIFT TO THIS FIC, AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED, SO BOY HOWDY AM I A HAPPY CAMPER THIS EVENING, YESSIREEBOBJOHN I SURE LAWDY AM.

My return from hiatus was absolutely WONDERFUL thanks to you. All of you are AMAZING; this year of updates couldn't have happened without your support and well-wishes. Warm and fuzzy affection goes out to: Xenocanaan, Skylar1023, MissIdeophobia, Counting Sinful Stars, Alya Tinuviel, Purrksofbeing, Tsuki-Lolita, sousie, tatewaki2000, DiCuore Alissa, Viviene001, Melissa Fairy, Yakiitori, Marian, redpanda923, Miqila, EVA-Saiyajin, Freaky Shannon-igans, rikku92, sehn0, MemeLord5000, 431101134, Just 2 Dream of You, Linguistic Chaos, Lady Rini, WistfulSin, XxXTwilight-SinXxX, MyMidnightShadow, Sky65, LadyEllesmere, A, wennifer-lynn, MetroNeko, Dreaming Traveler, buzzk97, Kaiya Azure, Beccalittlebear, general zargon, reebajee, SesshomarusLuver, KhaleesiRenee, WaYaADisi1, Vixeona, Star Crystals, ahyeon, giant salamander, HereAfter, and three guests!