Warnings: None


Lucky Child

Chapter 56:

"Conversations Light and Dark"


Sailor V's greeting said a lot of things, whether she intended them or didn't.

First up, she knew about Yusuke. She knew about the whistle, and she knew about Suzaku. Which meant she had either heard about these things from someone in-the-know, or she knew about Yu Yu Hakusho itself.

Which brings me to point the second: She knew that my name might not be what I said it was—which meant the odds were heavily in favor of this Sailor Scout being just like me.

Another switcheroo person.

Another ally in a world in which allies came few and far between.

You'd think such a realization, made despite my blurry vision and woozy head, would've thrilled me. Maybe compelled me into a heartfelt welcome, or even some clever comment to lob her way in return.

"Uh," I said instead.

Because holy shit, I was talking to Sailor-fucking-V!

From the red ribbon crowning her mane of golden hair to her midriff-baring top to her big blue eyes, she looked every inch a confident cosplayer strutting her perfect stuff in a pair of bright red heels—only in this world she looked like an actual preteen, not the almost-woman from the anime. Before I could gather my wits enough to ask questions, Sailor V turned to Amagi—and oh shit again, Amagi was still here. Sailor V was quite short, standing midway between my height and the absent Kagome's, but she marched right up to Amagi with a broad smile, thoroughly unintimidated. "You! What's your name?"

"I'm Amagi," said Amagi. She blinked owlishly at V, apparently too stunned to question (or perhaps even recall) the strange thing the superhero had just said to me. "Are you—are you Sailor V?"

The aforementioned struck another pose, V-for-victory fingers poised over one winking eye. "The one and only!"

Amagi gaped. "I—I thought you were just an urban legend after all those video games started popping up. But you—?"

"Oh, I assure you, I'm very real. And also very cute!" She flipped her hair, preening, but her charming smile faded into a look of resolution. Her voice turned from cutesy to all-business like she'd flipped a switch. "I need your help, Amagi. Your friend broke her leg from the looks of it, and these folks need help, too. Can you find and phone and call an ambulance?"

Despite her earlier promise to never leave me behind, Amagi sure did jump at the chance to help Sailor V. She nodded like a bobble-head and said, "R-right. I can do that." A single glance at me before she started running. "I'll be right back, Keiko, I promise!"

I watched her run off in silence, jaw thoroughly dropped, unable to from a coherent thought. But then Sailor V cleared her throat.

"It never ceases to amaze me, how eagerly civilians help a superhero." She eyed me sidelong. "So you're Yukimura Keiko, huh?"

I stared at her—because for half a second, I thought she'd become somebody else entirely.

All traces of her earlier cheer had vanished. She wore a deep scowl, eyes focused, standing with hands curled loosely at her side, feet spread wide beneath her in an at-ready stance. She had posture to rival Hideki-sensei's, in fact, presence so grounded and confident she looked at first glance much older and more mature than…what, 12 or 13? She couldn't be older than that if she was still Sailor V, and hadn't yet awoken her Sailor Venus powers. Her voice had deepened, too, losing the charming chirp of optimism she'd earlier employed.

"And you're Sailor Venus," I said. I winced. "Or, you will be. You're Sailor V."

Her head inclined. "You know what I'll become. And that means…" Her lips thinned. "I see. So Kagome was right."

My jaw dropped again. "You—you know Kagome?!"

"'Know her'" is a generous phrase. More like I know of her." V frowned. "She spends far too much time at the arcade."

"…what?"

"I'm saying you have her to thank for my little intervention. And yes, before you ask—I'm just like you." When I didn't react, she added, "Not from around here. Understand?" A smile ghosted across her mouth, barely visible under the weight of her solemn eyes. "I was a Yu Yu Hakusho fan back in the day."

Well. That confirmed it. Still had no fucking clue how Kagome was a part of this, but V was just like the two of us—a soul placed in a body to which it did not belong, thrown into a world we didn't understand for reasons none of us could fathom. I shut my eyes and breathed heavily through my nose, fighting for mental clarity against the warm-water ache in my leg.

And then there were three, I thought.

Out loud I said, "Me, too. And a big Sailor Moon fan."

V's barely-there smile vanished. "That makes ones of us," she said, but before I could press, she waved a hand behind her at the school. "So tell me. Branch and rank?"

I frowned. "What?"

"Branch and rank." It was odd, seeing a look that scrutinizing, that intense on the face of a preteen. "I saw what you did in there. You came prepared."

"What, you mean my booby traps?"

V frowned. Those blue eyes gave me another once-over before they narrowed, realization registering in their swimmable depths.

And then she said something in Russian. Or maybe German? I wasn't sure, and she said it too fast for me to replicate here. I stared at her as she repeated the phrase, gesturing at me as if to disparage the state of my clothes.

"I—I don't understand?" I said, because I most definitely did not understand why she was speaking a Slavic language at me all of a sudden, and at my words V sighed. She rubbed her temples with one hand, eyes blocked momentarily from view by her hand.

"Never mind," she said. "I was wrong."

I shook my head, still not sure what she was talking about. "Look, I just—have you ever heard of Max Brooks?"

"No."

"He wrote the Zombie Survival Guide. And World War Z. About invading zombies and what to do if it happened, and—and I used to take walks with my boyfriend and go look at houses that'd be good zombie defenses, and we totally made a bug-out plan for if a zombie invasion ever happened—"

Her face screwed up, pert nose wrinkling. "Zombie invasion?" she said, but I soldiered on, because something was building inside me and it needed to come out.

"—and I saw Home Alone approximately two hundred times so I knew how to wire up a trip line and you can learn to make pretty much everything at the library, so I just thought about all those zombie houses and then Mcaulay Culkin and, presto-bingo, I rigged the school." A deep breath slammed into my lungs when I finished talking, but I wasn't done. "And I mean I've seen at least ten thousand war movies and zombie movies and movies about home invasions so in the end it wasn't exactly hard—"

"Keiko."

If that intense expression of hers didn't fit her face, then that voice of hers certainly didn't fit her diminutive frame and pretty features. She barked my name like a drill sergeant, hands falling into rigid lines down her thin sides. I shut up at once. V rolled her lips together, staring with brow knit.

"It's OK," she said after a moment. "You're safe now. You understand that, don't you?"

Unable to talk, and unsure of why that mattered, I could only nod. V watched me for a minute more. When I didn't speak, she strode past atop her bright red slingback heels and approached Botan's unconscious body. Sailor V knelt by her head, examining her skull, lightly feeling alongside her pale neck. First aid. I'd taken a course in it, and I knew what I saw. V was checking for spinal injuries, for blows to the head—movements methodical and sure, like she'd done it a million times before.

Eventually, of course, her hands brushed back Botan's bangs. V sat still, staring at the eye on Botan's forehead (its lids parted only slightly, mistakable for just a bruise perhaps, but I sensed nothing would escape V's watchful gaze).

"You've done quite the number on Botan." Somehow her voice held no accusation, no condemnation of events that were actually very much my fault. "What happened?"

I swallowed down the guilt. "Shadow Sword."

It took V all of two seconds to put two and two together. A brief pause, followed by a curt, "Hiei cut you instead of her."

It wasn't a question, because she already knew how I'd reply. She'd seen the anime, after all. It wasn't hard to make a wild guess.

"Yeah," I said. "That's right."

"And she didn't react well, I see. Interesting."

I opened my mouth to tell her no shit, she hadn't reacted well. No words came out, however, because I glanced at Botan and felt them die inside my neck.

Botan.

What in the world was I supposed to do with Botan?

V rose, movements economical and swift. "But that's a discussion for another day. Amagi seems the responsible type. She'll have the police here in minutes." She put two fingers to her brow, the barest of salutes. "Best be on my way."

She got halfway to the wall at the edge of the school grounds, almost twenty feet from me, by the time I gathered my wits enough to speak. "Wait!" I cried, scrambling to my knees despite my foot's loud protest. I swooned amid the pain but managed not to faint, though black spots crowded my vision like soot sprites. "Wait—how do I get in contact with you again?"

She tossed a look over her shoulder, not breaking stride. "You don't. I'll come to you."

"You—wait one fucking second!"

At last she stopped, far too far away from me for comfort. I sat back down, falling hard on my tailbone, broken ankle screaming when I moved. Sweat beaded on my temple and trickled down my jaw, cold in the cool night air. V watched with expression most shrewd, slowly turning in place to face me.

Botan.

Botan was unconscious. She was wanted by Spirit World, probably.

What was I supposed to do with her now?

"Botan." I swallowed, voice catching on her name. "She…Spirit World locked her up and wouldn't let her go, because of the eye. And I don't know what'll happen to her if they get her back. And I don't know what to do with her now that she's—" My breathing hitched again, and again, and then a third time, words fighting for purchase amidst the avalanche of my panted breath. "I didn't see any of this coming—I didn't—I didn't—!"

And with that, the panic attack hit me like a brick to the fucking face.

It hurt almost as much as the ankle did, actually. A vice clamped around my chest with pulsing irons bands, every breath I took pulling the vice tighter and tighter, breaths coming shallower with every sip of air. My already-woozy head seemed to spin in place like a carousel on LSD. I shut my eyes, hands threaded through my hair, rocking in place as I scrambled for control, air like bramble in my throat—but then a hand alit on my back, moving in slow circles.

"Hey," said Sailor V. "Breathe. Calm down. In through the nose, c'mon, that's it…"

She walked me through the panic attack the way Tom would have, had he been near. She coached my breathing, murmured comforts, assured me of her presence without constricting me in a hug or anything like that (the last thing I want in a panic attack is a hug). V exuded the sort of calm I valued so much in my former therapist, even-keeled and capable, her stoicism soaking into me with every deepening breath I stole. It took a few minutes, sure, and I still felt like I'd been hit by a truck when the hyperventilation stopped, but soon I had the ability to sit up and look at her unhindered.

Blue eyes raked my face. "Better?"

The words trembled on my tongue, but I managed to grate out, "Better. Thank you."

"First time seeing combat."

Although she phrased it like a question, with a "ka" on the end of her Japanese statement, she didn't inflect like she asked a question. She just stated it like a fact, that "ka" at the end an opportunity for me to prove her wrong—but I couldn't. Aside from all my practices with Hideki, and that one time I'd beat up the low-level punks threatening Kuwabara, and that brief encounter with the humans controlled by Hiei after he stole the Sword, I'd never actually seen combat. Not against worthy opponents. And certainly not for such an extended duration.

Tonight had been, in a very real way, my first glimpse of war.

"I mean, I beat up some thugs, once—but yes. How'd you know?"

She glanced at my still-heaving chest. "I've seen this reaction before. It's normal."

I wanted to ask questions. How many times had she seen combat, to know a panic attack like that is normal? Why had she asked for my rank and branch, and how had she known how to talk me down from a panic episode?

Who was this person, really?

She was Sailor V, sure.

But who else?

Sailor V, however, wasn't in the chattiest of moods. She stood up, hand lingering in a bracing pat on my shoulder, and walk past me to the prone Botan. With nimble hands and strong shoulders she lifted Botan in a fireman's carry, one of Botan arms slung around her neck, gripping that dangling wrist to keep Botan upright.

"I can take Botan for the time being," said V, not struggling at all to speak under Botan's weight. "I have a place she'll be safe."

For the umpteenth time, I felt my jaw hang loose. "Y-you do?"

"Yes." She bounced on her heels, scooting Botan higher up her neck. "Soon as she's stable, I'll bring her back to you." That subtle smile of hers, barely-there and perhaps a touch wry, crossed her glossed lips. "It's probably not the best idea to mix fandoms overmuch, but just for a night it should be fine."

I stared at her, unable to speak.

V had shown up tonight to rescue me. She hadn't gotten a chance, though, because Yusuke beat her to the punch. She might as well not have shown up at all—that's what I'd thought just a few minutes prior.

Now, however, she wanted to rescue Botan.

Looked like V got a chance to do something heroic, after all.

Something about the situation felt ironic. Coincidental? Or just plain weird? My brain felt too much like pudding mush to pick a word, but still. V was a superhero, after all...provided I could trust her with this task. We'd only just met. Was she on my side? Was Botan sage with her?

…did I even have a choice, here?

If Sailor V meant Botan ill, it's not like I had the power to stop her from just taking Botan outright. Best not look this gift horse in the mouth, in that case. Best not overthink this if I could help it.

Best just be grateful for this windfall, and deal with the consequences as they came.

"Thank you." I nearly gasped the word, throat thickening from more than mere panic. "Thank you, I—"

"Don't. It's fine." Her lips quirked. "Something tells me we'll be doing each other favors a lot from now on." With her free hand she gave me another small salute. "Ja ne, Keiko—or whoever you are."

"Wait!"

V performed an impressive double take. "Again?" she said, and rightly—she hadn't even taken a step yet.

"Just—" I shifted on the grass, putting my back to her, facing the school and staring straight again. "Now you can go."

"…what's your play here?"

"When Spirit World inevitably asks where Botan went, I can honestly say she left when my back was turned." I peeked at her over my shoulder, feeling inexplicably self-conscious. "I don't like lying."

Venus didn't move—but then she actually smiled, head throwing back in a single, hearty "Ha!" It was the first time I'd seen her wear a true smile, grin just the littlest bit crooked at the corner. Pleased with myself, I turned back around, resolutely fixed on the school in front of me.

"You'd make a good lawyer, playing off a technicality like that," V muttered. In a firmer tone she added, "Goodbye for real. I'm not waiting again."

I lifted a hand. "Au revoir."

"Right. See you soon."

I concentrated on my breathing, shutting my eyes so I wouldn't see even the barest flicker of V's bright clothes in my periphery. I didn't hear her walk away, didn't hear even the slightest whump of a high heel on the lawn—but then again, V didn't seem the type to make a noisy escape. After a minute I chanced a look over my shoulder, peering into the dark through squinted eyes.

The yard behind me lay devoid of occupants, aside from the still-sleeping infected lying comatose around me.

I won.

The thought surfaced like a dolphin leaping from the crystalline ocean, sudden and delightful.

I won.

I won.

Yusuke had defeated Suzaku. None of the infected had been killed. Botan was in safe hands, so far as I could tell—and I'd made it out the other side alive.

I fucking won!

Before I could let out a whoop of joy, or do something similarly dramatic, movement at the corner of the yard caught my attention. Amagi trotted over, skirting around the fallen infected on her way to my side. She kept her eyes away from my ankle, staring me pointedly in the face instead.

"They're on their way, Keiko." She sat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she looked around. "Where did Sailor V go?"

The cliché rolled off my tongue without forethought. "Her work here was done," I declared, somehow managing to sound like an anime narrator despite my dizzy head.

Amagi chuckled. "Right. Of course." She looked around again, frowning. "And your friend with the blue hair? "

"With V. She'll be safe with her."

"Safe?" Amagi repeated. A moment of hesitance, and then, "Should I ask?"

I shook my head. "Probably not. Not tonight, anyway. But soon."

"I'll hold you to it." Her eyes drifted to my ankle, then shot back up to my face. Amagi looked quite pale when she said, "You should rest."

Amagi did not protest when I leaned into her, head on her shoulder, closing my eyes as her hand drifted to my hair. She stroked my hair, petting it as I tried not to think about the pain in my shoulder and leg, tried not to think too hard about all the things that had gone wrong tonight.

Botan was safe.

Nobody was dead.

Another switcheroo character had revealed herself.

But, most importantly—I won.

I won.

Soon the sound of sirens swam out of the distance. I listened to them draw near in silence, drifting away on the feeling of adrenaline and pain and Amagi's hand on my hair, breathing in her light perfume amidst the night's cloying dark. Soon red and blue lights cut the dark behind my eyelids, playing over my face like sunlight through clear water.

As those lights caressed my features, I smiled.

I smiled, because I won.


Aside from the humming lamp on my bedside table, the room remained dark, and quiet.

Not silent, mind you. Just quiet. Mom's soft breathing whispered in the stillness, nearly drowned out by Dad's gentle snores. She sat in the chair at the foot of my bed; Dad lay beside her on the floor, head pillowed on a wadded-up blanket. The nurses had tried to get them to leave—but no dice there, obviously. They'd refused to budge from my side as soon as they made it to the hospital, watching with bated breath as the doctors hoisted my bound and broken leg in a sling above my bed.

"I never thought I'd say this," Mom had said once I got situated, "but thank god you're taking aikido lessons."

The nurses bustled about, draping me with sheets and blankets, fussing with my fluid IV and fluffing my pillows. Amidst the hubbub (not to mention the narcotic painkiller coursing through my system) I still managed to note she'd spoken in present tense. My head jerked up. "T-taking?"

Dad—whose hands twisted around and around his chef's cap until it resembled a rag more than a hat—scratched the back of his neck. "I, uh…might've let it slip."

"And I didn't say anything because I realized it was just upset you, but…I'll never complain again!" Mom said, and she very promptly burst into tears. Dad tugged her to him and put her head on his chest, shooting me an apologetic look over the top of my mother's hair.

Now they both slept, of course, in a room not built for overnight visitors. They slept soundly despite Mom's tear-stained face and Dad's uncomfortable position on the floor. Frankly it was a slight miracle I'd even gotten a room of my own that night. The local hospitals were full to the brim after the rioting caused by Suzaku's whistle. The EMTs had told me that much when they took Amagi and me to the hospital.

"So you think they'll have to amputate?" I'd cheerfully intoned, pointing at my foot (which they'd hidden under a sheet for the sake of the still-pale Amagi).

One of the EMTs laughed, bouncing in place as the ambulance swayed around us. "Nah. You can keep your leg, promise."

"Oh, but a prosthetic would be so cool!" I said, feigning disappointment. "C'mon, just one little amputation? I'm pretty sure those assholes came at me with a buzz saw." I leaned off the stretcher and elbowed the EMT with a wink. "We could double back, do a little slice-and-dice before anyone notices. Just blame it on the crazies who fucked up our town, eh?"

The EMTs were in stitches at the sight of a cussing schoolgirl with dreams of slicing off her own foot. Amagi, however, shot me a disapproving stare. She sat next to me in the ambulance, still not looking at my leg despite the concealing sheet.

"You're making jokes at a time like this?" she'd said.

All I could think to do was cough into my fist, pathetic and dainty. "Ahem! Don't pick on the invalid!"

"Invalid? You're not sick—you're just a bit broken, that's all!"

I put my wrist to my forehead and flopped back against the stretcher. "Oh no! I think I feel a faint coming on, since I'm an invalid and you shouldn't pick on me!"

The EMTs were basically rolling on the floor, and even Amagi had to crack a smile.

At that point it was mostly shock talking, forcing jokes out of my mouth so I didn't succumb to another panic attack. I'd done the same when I shattered my elbow in my past life. The nurses loved me, because in my medication-drunk haze I kept insisting I was "a motherfucking anteater" and asking for beer. Make 'em laugh, make 'em laugh, make 'em laugh, as the song goes, and quote obscure memes when you're blazed out of your goddamn mind on morphine.

But that's a story for another time.

I know I slept after the nurses set me up in my tiny hospital room, because I woke to find my parents sleeping, that lone lamp humming next to me, feebly fighting back the dark. No idea what time it was, or when Amagi had left (we'd gotten separated when they carted me off for x-rays and stitches), or for how long I'd slept. I watched my parents sleep for a time, sometimes staring out the tiny window by my bed, but only so I could watch their reflections in the glass. My brain was too medicated to race, too numb from exhaustion to conjure true anxiety.

Still, though. I wondered where Yusuke and the others were. Had they made it back to Human World OK? I couldn't go to them with my foot as it was, bound up in soft cloth with a splint, and my room's phone wouldn't dial out. I'd checked.

A yawn made my jaw pop and crack. I'd try to call the boys in the morning. For now, sleep.

Before I could nod off again, the door to my room cracked open, shaft of gold light falling in a spear across my bed. I lifted a hand in greeting as a nurse pushed a wheelchair, folded, through the doorframe.

"Restroom?" she asked.

Pee whenever you get a chance, my grandmother had always said, and I'd made it clear to the nurses that I was not using a bedpan during my hospital tenure. The night nurse lowered my foot's sling and guided me into the chair, assisting as I did my embarrassing business. As she helped me back into bed, I patted the wheelchair's arm.

"Could you leave that here?" I said. "In case I need to go again?"

She thought about it, but eventually nodded. "Fine, but don't push yourself. You'll tear your stitches out. Have your parents help you."

"I will."

As soon as she left and the light from the hallway vanished with a click of door against frame, I lowered my leg, slid out of bed, and climbed into the chair by myself.

True to the nurse's word, the stitches on my back tugged in sharp protest when I levered myself into the chair, but it didn't feel like any of them snapped. My parents didn't stir, not even when the door's hinges creaked and my IV stand rattled as I rolled it out the door, clearly too exhausted from seeing their daughter trussed up like a fattened goose to wake. I wheeled out of the room after a brief tussle with the door (steering a wheelchair is harder than it looks, especially when you're a door and manhandling a door carting an IV line). The hallway beyond lay long and quiet, the nurse's station outside the room deserted in the dead of night. Far away, floors and wings below, I was sure the emergency center still bustled—but here in the patient wing, it was quiet.

I headed straight for the phone hanging in its cradle on the wall by the station, of course. They'd posted the dial-out codes on a handy placard next to the phone, thank my lucky stars. I input the code and dialed a number from memory.

Nobody at the Kuwabara household, however, picked up.

I hung up the phone and lifted it again, hesitating over who to call next. Not Kurama's house, certainly. Atsuko? No, she wouldn't answer, and besides—the boys went to the Kuwabara place after beating Suzaku. I was sure of it.

Were they not back yet?

Were they OK?

Not sure who else to call, I punched in another number. It rang three times before the line engaged, person on the other end mumbling a sleepy 'hello' into the receiver.

"It's me," I said.

"Oh my god, Eeyore." It was as if she'd flipped a switch, sleepiness vanishing in a millisecond. "I saw the news; Sarayashiki looked trashed. Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Mostly." I shifted in my chair and cradled the phone between my jaw and shoulder, tugging at the gauze wound around and around my neck, shoulders, and back like a mummy's sports bra. "I broke my foot and have fifteen stitches, but I'm in one piece."

"Thank god." I could almost see her sag, her relieved expression, her hand winding itself through her thick black hair. "You'll have to give me the play by play, but first—" She took a deep breath, voice skewing sly. "Did anyone…interesting show up?"

"Why, yes," I said, tone cool. "And she mentioned you, in fact."

"Oh-em-gee. She got my messages. That's so cool!" Kagome's laughter sounded like sunlight made audible, although her humor dimmed soon enough. "But—do you think she's one of us?"

"Do I think she's…?" I stared at the receiver in my hand, incredulous, before lifting it to my ear again. "Kagome. Are you telling me you contacted her without knowing whether or not—?"

Kagome cut in, "Well, you were going to be attacked, and there was no way to find out if she was one of us without talking to her, and masked superheroes are kind of hard to find, sooo—"

I braced my elbow on the wheelchair's armrest, massaging my temples. "How many blonde middle school girls are there in Tokyo? Blonde ones with red ribbons?"

"Hey, I tried to look for her before making contact! It's just that Tokyo's huge and I'm eleven years old with limited resources, that's all!"

She had a point, much though I didn't want to admit it. I grumbled, "How did you manage to contact her, anyway?"

A satisfied hum, upbeat and cheerful. "It was actually pretty clever, if I do say so myself—but is it safe for us to talk about this right now?"

I started to tell her yes, of course it was, now get to the fucking point—but from down a nearby hall I heard the click of the nurse's loafers. My back straightened at the sound, heartrate picking up like a spurred horse, but this wasn't Hamaguchi. It was just the nurse. I reminded myself of that and took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

"Much as I want to grill you about how you managed to get ahold of her, no. It's not," I said. "I'm calling from the hospital and it's…less than private."

"Think I could come visit?" she asked. "Maybe tomorrow? When do you get discharged?"

"Tomorrow night, I think. And I'd like that. We have catching up to do."

Lots of catching up to do. Kagome had contacted Sailor V, had even looked for her locally, but she hadn't thought to involve me. I had no idea why, and that meant I had quite a bit of grilling to do—plus a lot of monologing to fill her in on my wild night.

But before I forgot…

"And yes, by the way," I said. "To answer your question: She indeed appears to be one of us."

"Oh. Oh, cool." Another of her delighted, delightful laughs. "How freakin' cool!"

"You can say that again." Meeting a Sailor Scout certainly earned that descriptor, but I'd have to tell her about that later. "Talk soon?"

"Hell yeah, we're gonna talk soon." She sounded so jazzed, I wondered how she'd be able to get back to sleep—or was this like a Christmas morning situation, in which sleeping gets you to the morning faster? Whatever the case, she said "Night, Eeyore" with gusto.

"Night, Tigger."

She hung up first, and I wheeled myself back toward my room before the nurse could catch me skulking.

Well, that little excursion hadn't accomplished much. I could try the communication mirror, but it was in the pockets of the clothes I'd been wearing upon hospital admittance, which meant it was in a bag somewhere. I had no way of contacting my boys, to check and see how they were doing post-Suzaku.

I'd gone from high-octane action to just sitting around in the span of a few hours.

But what the hell was I supposed to do now?

I'd had a lot of practice in my past life using just one arm, but even so, getting back into my room wasn't a cakewalk. Wrestling with the door, juggling the IV's rolling frame, I felt my stitches strain and stretch. A hiss of pain escaped between my teeth, but just as I let go of the door to clutch at my aching shoulder, something plucked the door from my hands. It swung open, inward, into the dark beyond on hinges that had somehow gone quite quiet.

Behind me, the nurse's footsteps ceased.

"Hello, Keiko," Ayame said.

Somehow it didn't surprise me to find her standing there, black kimono nearly blending with the dark, hair and eyes composed of ink and shadow. I looked her up and down as she did the same to me, eyes moving past her to my still-sleeping parents. Their faces had taken on an odd blue quality, as if the room had sunk beneath the surface of some dark ocean.

"Ayame," I said. "Are Mom and Dad…?"

"They will not wake until I'm gone."

So she was pulling a little Spirit World trick, then. Great. I scooted past her, yanking hard on one wheel to spin my chair around to face her.

"Good. Then I can yell at you to my heart's content, in that case." I drew myself up, somehow, even though I was stuck in a chair with a broken foot. "What the fuck were you thinking, keeping Botan locked up like some goddamn animal? She's not some rabid dog—"

"You have an incomplete understanding of the situation, Keiko." That maddening sincerity of hers, her tenable calm, did not waver. "Botan is a danger to herself and to others."

"I don't deny that."

For once, I managed to knock Ayame off-balance. She started, looking at me anew, wondering where the "but" came in. Because of course there would be a "but." Ayame and I were not fated to agree on much, even if for once I could recognize that she spoke some version of the truth.

"But it sounds to me you had her in isolation, and that is not the way to treat a sick person!" I continued. "She told me somebody named Jorge visited her more than you and Koenma combined, and that is not OK."

I expected her to deny everything, naturally. I expected her to lob a prepared excuse, state with infuriating cool that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for abandoning and neglecting Botan during her hour of need.

I did not expect her to hang her head, draw in a breath, and agree with me.

Oh no.

At this rate, Ayame and I would become friends soon.

"It's true." Either she was the best actress on the planet, or Ayame actually meant what she said, remorse filling her dark eyes with raw pain. "I'm afraid I didn't visit nearly enough. Perhaps if I had…"

She trailed off. I waited, silent, until she shook her head and sighed.

"It matters not." She walked with small, mincing steps behind my wheelchair. "Let me help you into bed."

"Oh. Um. OK."

She moved me with perhaps less practiced grace than had the nurse, but her hands were strong, fingers cool and firm around my biceps and waist. Ayame even helped me put my leg back in its sling, draping a sheet over my lap before stepping back to the bed's foot. Remarkably helpful of her. What was she up to?

"Where is Botan now, Keiko?" she said—but softly, not even a hint of accusation marring her smooth tone.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

A low sigh. "Do not lie to me."

"I'm not lying. She left when my back was turned." I met her eyes with another shrug. "I have no idea where she is now."

(Just don't ask me who she's with, though. I didn't have a lie prepared for that little line of inquiry…)

Ayame stared—unmoving, unblinking—but she couldn't detect a lie because I had not told her one. I held her gaze until she broke it, her eyes falling shut with yet another long, low sigh. Her fingers trailed over my bedcovers as she crossed to the window, hand alighting like a moth upon the sill.

"As you are aware, and as you more than likely suspect," she said, "Spirit World has methods for keeping its eyes on those upon whom it holds vested interest. Said methods can be disrupted, but only by those who know what those methods entail. Tonight, Spirit World's feed on your activities was disrupted by unknown means—means of which you are not capable. We lost track of Botan during this interval."

I pretended to look interested, which wasn't hard. I knew most of that already, or had at least guessed at Spirit Word's intelligence capabilities, but the bit about Botan was definitely new. Had they lost track of her when V showed up? Had V caused that disruption?

…was Spirit World even aware of V's existence, come to think of it?

"Unless Botan had access to a device or an ability Spirit World is unaware of," Ayame went on, "intervention came from an outside source." She looked at me in the reflection of the window. "Do you know from where such an intervention might have come?"

For a moment, I didn't know what to say—but it occurred to me she'd asked from where, not from whom, the intervention had come. I knew it had likely come from Sailor V, but I had no fucking clue how she'd done it, and because of that technicality, I was safe from telling a lie. Thank the universe for loopholes, right? Maybe I really should become a lawyer…

"Nope," I said. "No idea how such a disruption might have happened."

Another truth, even one based in deception, rendered whatever lie-detection techniques Ayame employed quite useless. We had another staring contest before she once more ducked her head, fingers tracing a pattern across the window pane.

"I see," she said. "We know the demon Kurama gave you a seed that emits a disruptive energy field. We do not appreciate that, but at the same time, we understand your need for privacy." Before I could make a snide remark about needing alone-time every now and again, Ayame said, "However, this seed was in your home during the attack." She was the one to shrug, this time. "The mystery continues, I suppose."

Neither of us said anything for a moment. Ayame watched me carefully. I made sure not to move.

"Sorry I can't be of more help," I said at last.

"So am I." She shook her head, slow and solemn. Botan needs to be apprehended."

I hated to admit Ayame was right, but we were three-for-three in agreeing with each other. Although I didn't necessarily think Botan belonged in Spirit World, her behavior at the school had been downright chilling. Something needed to be done with her, be it medical (spiritual?) intervention, or maybe even training to get her impulses under control. Which solution would prove most effective, however, I was at a loss to say.

"Can we count on you to inform us of Botan's whereabouts, should you learn of them?" Ayame asked.

I sucked down a breath. Ayame watched me with care, astute and silent. I shut my eyes. Opened them again.

"What will you do to her if you catch her?" I asked.

"Ensure her health and safety. Nothing more." She tilted her head to the left, curious. "I can see you're skeptical."

"She's my friend. I don't want you putting her in a cell."

Ayame's lips thinned. "That was not—" But she took a breath, shook her head, started again. "Understand this, Keiko. What happened to Botan was not her fault. Spirit World does not blame her for her…transformation. However, we will not stand idly by and allow her to endanger innocent humans. Not when the side effects of the Shadow Sword proved so dire."

There was that term Botan had used—side effects. But how "side" could they be when they changed Botan so completely? Wondering if I was better off not knowing, but far too nosy to resist, I asked: "What exactly happened to Botan?"

"The Sword works by suffusing the soul of whomever it cuts with dark, demonic energy. It was designed to turn humans into demons. And in all of its long history, the Shadow Sword has never been used to cut a being of Spirit—much less one who had been given a body by Spirit World. Until now, of course." She put a hand to her chest, fingers clenching in the fabric of her kimono. "The Sword's dark energy sank into Botan's soul, warping and distorting the harmonics of her aura in ways Spirit World has never witnessed. In truth, we do not know the depths of the Sword's effects. We do not know if they are reversible. And we do not know what will become of Botan if she is left untreated."

By the time she finished talking, my palms had begun to sweat. "What does treatment entail?" I murmured.

"Energy therapy, for the most part. Scrubbing the demonic influence from her spirit with transfusions of pure spiritual power." But despite how simple that sounded, Ayame's eyes held only darkness. "However, Botan did not have a third eye in Spirit World. That little…feature only revealed itself when she retook her physical form." She hesitated, then admitted, "I imagine the transformation felt uncomfortable."

I sat up straighter, sling creaking as my leg moved. "She—she got worse when she came here?"

"Yes. She got worse when she came to rescue you."

At that I glared. "I can't tell if you're making an observation or shaming me. I didn't ask her to come here."

She shook her head. "Obviously. No guilt was intended. But it is true that if she had remained in Spirit World, her condition would be less advanced."

"OK, so you are trying to make me feel guilty."

Ayame had the grace to look peeved, short-tempered at my quips and dogged determination to fight her. But fighting would get us nowhere, I told myself, so I'd best start cooperating…as much as I was able, at least.

"OK, look," I said by way of olive branch. "I'm worried for Botan, so if I see her, I'll let you know. Will that suffice?"

Ayame smiled—a real smile, one that touched her eyes and made their corners crinkle. Of course, what I hadn't said was that I'd turn Botan in. Just that I'd let Ayame know if I saw her. I wasn't turning Botan in to any organization until I heard Botan's own wishes, that's for certain.

"Thank you." Ayame bowed to me, strands of hair ghosting over her white neck. "And while I am on the subject of thanks: Spirit World offers you both its humblest gratitude and its humblest apologies, for subjecting you to such torment."

She didn't speak with her usual clipped cadence. Were my ears playing tricks on me, or did she sound…sincere? Grateful? And perhaps even regretful, like she truly did disapprove of my involvement in the night's events?

Or was Spirit World just making her say that, and she was putting on a show to sell me her apologies?

"I mean—I don't blame you for what happened tonight." When Ayame's lifted a brow, uncertain, I told her, "The Saint Beasts compelled the infected to hurt me, right? That's not on you as a person, or even on Spirit World as an institution." I shrugged. "So you don't have to apologize, is what I'm saying." Fate would have thrown me into that situation no matter how hard Spirit World fought to keep me out of it—though there was no way I could communicate as such to Ayame.

Still, she wasn't satisfied. "Even so, I must stress that it was never our intention to involve you in this case in such deep capacity. And I personally lament that you became involved." One dark brow quirked. "Though you rose to the challenge with alarming alacrity."

"Yeah, well. Yusuke's made me watch a lot of war movies over the years."

"Clearly. What was it you made? Sneezing gas?"

"That's right."

"I must ask—why did you outfit the school with weapons?" And that calculating edge was back, her earlier remorse gone. "You had no forewarning of this case. How did you know to arm yourself?"

I'd been expecting someone to question my foresight, and given Ayame's views on demons, I felt she'd swallow my prepped lie (the only one I wanted to tell) without undue fuss—and Kurama probably wouldn't mind serving as my excuse, either.

"I armed myself the day Yusuke told me about demons, and that one went to my school," I said. "Felt like a wise idea at the time."

"Indeed. I'm impressed." And she looked it, too, appraising me with what looked suspiciously like…respect? She left the widow and stood at my bedside, patting my knee so lightly I almost didn't feel her touch through the bedclothes. "Rest now. You've earned a reprieve."

The blue haze over the room flickered, but before it could vanish entirely, I caught Ayame's sleeve—because she was my one line to the outside world, and I would not let this opportunity pass me by.

"Wait," I said. "The boys. How are they? Where are they?"

She placed her hand over mine, though only so she could ease it away from her clothes. "They returned to Human World less than an hour ago," she said. "I believe they went to the Kuwabara residence." Another smile, this one as incongruously genuine as the last. "And they're fine. Yusuke will likely sleep for days after his ordeal, but he is fine."

The words were a balm and a bomb, both, soothing the ache inside my chest even as they lit up my heart with an explosion of relief. I sagged back against the pillows, head lolling until my scalp touched the headboard.

"Good. Good." I cracked an eye and lifted a hand. "Goodnight, Ayame."

"Good night, Keiko," she said, and the blue tint flickered back to normal colors—but then it snapped into place once more. Ayame said, eyes on my broken leg, "Before I forget. Since you'll have trouble with uneven terrain for some time, I'll come to you next time we need to meet."

I bowed as best I was able. "Thank you for your consideration."

"Of course. It's the least we can do, after involving you in…"

Ayame trailed off, which felt very much unlike her. This was a woman certain of her words, and of her role and station in her chosen life. She glanced toward the window before stepping closer, close enough so that her whispered words carried clearly on the quiet midnight air.

"I am supposed to be impartial, Keiko," Ayame murmured, "but allow me a moment to break protocol. This never should have happened. You should not be here, in this hospital." She hesitated for only a moment before saying, in one heaving rush: "Thank you for your dedication to Spirit World. I understand if you wish to abandon your position as Record Keeper."

For a second I thought I hadn't heard her correctly. I blinked and stammered, "Oh. Um. No thanks?"

But she pressed on, lips barely moving as she spoke. "I can speak to Koenma. Give him an excuse." Her eyes weren't designed for pleading, and yet that is exactly what they did. "I can smooth it over, if that is what you wish."

Unreal. This had to be a dream, a delusion brought on by my throbbing leg and the meds coursing through my system—but Ayame was as real as my parents sleeping only a few feet away, hand descending once more onto my knee with all the weight of a butterfly.

Why was she offering this, though?

Did Ayame truly care for my wellbeing—or did she just want me gone, apropos of nothing?

The pleading sincerity in her deep eyes did not strike me as deceptive.

Summoning a conciliatory smile, I patted her hand. "Sorry, Ayame. But I gotta keep an eye on Yusuke. No way can I back out. He'd never let me live it down, y'know?"

Ayame didn't fight me. She didn't bully, or threaten, or even try to persuade. She merely breathed deeply and sighed, as though to clear everything inside herself and start anew.

Something like that, anyway.

I felt sleepy, suddenly, as the room's blue hue faded.

"You're brave," Ayame murmured. "I worry for you. But the decision is yours." She squeezed my knee. "Goodnight, Keiko."

"Goodnight, Ayame," I said—and when I blinked, both Ayame and the blue haze had faded, giving way to the dim light of the bedside lamp and the moonlight streaming through the tiny window.

In her chair, my mother stirred, voice soft and full of sleep. "Keiko, honey? Do you need something?"

"No, Mom," I told her. "Go back to sleep."

She did as I asked, huddling under the coat my father had draped across her thin frame.

I followed close behind.

Ayame had provided me with answers—and with them, questions I did not yet know how to articulate.


Although it pained them to leave me alone for any length of time, eventually Mom and Dad had to go home—mainly for showers, and to get a change of clothes for me, but also because they had three restaurants to run and life didn't stop just because I'd broken my leg and sliced up my shoulder. Both apologized profusely for abandoning their precious daughter in her hours of need (their words, not mine). I pretended to collapse like an overheated southern bell when they said they had to go, which made them laugh and eased the tension somewhat. Mom might've finally come around to the utility of aikido, but that didn't mean her motherly instinct to protect me had completely fallen to the wayside.

Once they left, however, I had little more to do than twiddle my thumbs and wait.

Much as I wanted to hear from Yusuke and the others, I couldn't exactly leave with my foot still in a soft-cast, and the nurses had denied my daytime request to use their phone. "Just rest," they commanded, "because visitor hours will open soon." Only how could the boys know where I was if I couldn't call and tell them?

Though I supposed it didn't actually matter, did it? Yusuke slept for three days after his fight with Suzaku, as I recalled. Who knew when he'd make it in to visit? The nurses still weren't sure about my discharge date since I'd suffered a blow to the head, wanting to keep me close for observation. With no way to contact my boys, stuck in that hospital bed all alone, no fucking clue when Kagome planned to stop by, I resigned myself to a day of boredom and hunkered down in my bed with a sigh. The view out the window showed me precious little, just a swath of blue sky and the tops of some trees.

Perhaps I should've had a little more faith, however.

Not two minutes after the nurses declare visiting hours open for business, my door nearly flew off its hinges, slamming against the wall so hard I feared the plaster might collapse. A nurse shouted something about quiet, and hey, how'd you get in here?, but Kuwabara didn't pay her any heed. He took one look at my hospital gown, the bandages on my neck and chest, and my foot up in its sling before gasping and hauling ass to my bedside.

"Keiko?!" he said, hands flapping, clearly at a loss for both words and action. "Keiko! Y-you're—?"

"Oh, hey! Great to see you!" I lifted my hands, aiming a set of vigorous jazz hands down the length of my leg. "Surprise! I broke my foot!"

"You broke your—?" he said. His eyes flickered from the sling to my bound chest. "A-and your back—?" But the shock faded, replaced by a comical fury, voice lifting in a high-pitched, accusatory whine. "Keiko! How could you?! How could you let yourself get hurt like this?!"

"Hey, it's not like I planned it!" I protested. "And there were a lot of them! It's not my fault I was number one on their hit list!"

"We've been worried about you, you dummy!" he said. "And you're making jokes?!"

"I cope through humor, OK?!"

"And I cope through telling you you're stupid!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to make light of the situation so you don't have an aneurism!"

"Hey, I'm not the one stuck in a hospital bed, so don't you dare try to change the subject, and—"

His face contorted like he'd bitten into a lemon, and to my surprise he dropped to his knees at my bedside. For a second he pressed his face into the covers, hair a mop of orange curls against the blue sheets, and somehow he found and grabbed my hand without looking up.

"You're OK, right?" he said, voice barely audible. "You're going to be OK, right, Keiko?"

On reflex, I grabbed his hand a little tighter. "Hell yeah, I'm gonna be fine!" I said. "Takes more than a few assholes to bring me down."

Kuwabara lifted his face, peering up at me with eyes like a scared puppy. Giggling, I patted his head with prim fingertips.

"Right as rain in no time at all," I assured him. "I'm only gonna have the stitches for, like, a month? And I'll get a hard cast instead of a soft one soon, so I'll get to walk in a boot in just a few weeks, and when that comes off I'll be good as new." I grimaced, remembering the Squeeze and wondering what the foot equivalent might be. "Well, a bit of physical therapy after that, probably, but…"

Kuwabara sat up a bit straighter, breaking out into a wide grin. "Hey, maybe we could take you to see Genkai! She fixed me right up after Rando broke my arms. No PT or nothin'!"

"He has a good idea," said a voice from the doorway. "We'll have to pay Genkai a visit. I confess I've always wished to meet her."

Kuwabara flinched and looked over his shoulder; I pulled my hand from Kuwabara's big paw so I could repeat my jazz hand performance. "Look, Kurama! I broke my foot! Ta-da!"

"Yes. I see that," Kurama said, humor curving the lip of his mouth. He glanced at Kuwabara as he shut the door to the room (with far more care than Kuwabara used to open it), eyebrow climbing just a shade higher. "Kuwabara ran past the reception desk, but don't worry. I signed us both in."

Kuwabara blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck, muttering something about getting too excited to follow hospital rules, which were probably stupid, anyway. Kurama pulled a chair over to my bedside, offering a small smile when I caught his eye. Damn, it was good to see him—him and Kuwabara both. Although I knew they'd both sustained injuries during the Saint Beast arc, neither of them looked worse for wear, and that lifted a weight off my shoulders in an instant.

Still, though. I had questions before I could relax completely.

"Yusuke still sleeping it off?" I said.

Kurama nodded. "Of course."

"And Hiei's probably up a tree somewhere?"

"Most likely."

"Yeah. Visiting an invalid isn't much is style, is it?" I said, rueful.

Kuwabara frowned. "You're not an invalid. You're just a little busted up right now, that's all."

"Funny. That's exactly what Amagi said." I shook my head. "Anyway. So long as you're all safe..."

"We are," Kurama assured me.

"Yeah, Keiko," Kuwabara said. He raised his arm and flexed. "Those demons didn't stand a chance against these muscles!"

I giggled again—but I shut my eyes, breathing in through my nose and then slowly out of my mouth.

I'd won, and my boys had won.

We'd won.

Aside from the lingering question of what to do about Botan, the Saint Beast Arc had been successfully wrapped.

Thank my lucky fucking stars that was over.

"Will you tell us what happened, Keiko?" This came from Kurama, voice cool and smooth and dry. He glanced at my leg as he remarked, "Clearly the infected put you through your paces."

"They did," I said—but something struck me. "Wait. You mean you don't know what happened?"

Kuwabara wore a frown to match my own, blocky jaw jutting. "What the—? Of course we don't know, Keiko! It's not like we had a Keiko Hotline, and you weren't answering your mirror. We might've been too busy fighting to check in much, but that doesn't mean we weren't worried sick over you!"

"Yes," Kurama said. Bright green eye searched my face for answers. "We had no way of knowing you were safe until we returned and phoned your family."

I stared at them, confused, because clearly I was missing something. The thing was, they had had a Keiko Hotline. Suzaku had been spying on me, showing a feed of my struggles top Yusuke—

Oh. Right.

To Yusuke.

The rest of the boys had…what? Stayed on a lower floor of the castle fighting those weird green monster dudes, right? I'd forgotten that detail amidst the excitement, but it meant that only Yusuke knew what I'd been through the night before. The rest of the boys hadn't had a clue.

…which meant the boys probably didn't know about Botan. And according to Spirit World, Sailor V might've blanked out any watching eyes when she showed up. It was possible even Yusuke hadn't seen her arrival.

I might be the only member of our group who knew she existed.

Oh boy. This was going to take some explaining, wasn't it? Not to mention some finesse, leaving out the parts they shouldn't know, but keeping in the parts they should. And no wonder Kuwabara had freaked out when he saw my injuries. Both he and Kurama (not to mention the absent Hiei) had no idea that Suzaku had sicced his infected goons specifically on me, let alone that I'd broken my ankle or had my back sliced open.

So…it was Keiko's Story Time, I guess.

I shook my head, both to clear the cobwebs and delay a moment to get my thoughts in order. "Sorry. Just…I'm still a bit scattered from last night. And this is going to take some explaining, so settle in, boys, because it's going to be a wild ride." A deep, bracing breath as Kurama draped one leg over the other, Kuwabara moving to sit on the edge of my bed, one hand idling protective by my knee. I told them, "I guess it all started when I outfitted the PE shed with some…well, amenities, and…"

Before I could dive in, the door popped open again. A nurse wearing a starched white cap stuck her head inside, shooting Kuwabara a disapproving look (which made him hang his head and blush) before addressing me.

"Keiko, you have another visitor," she said. "But remember you can only have three in the room at a time, OK?"

I saluted and said "Roger that, ma'am," but before I could ask who it was (because Hiei wasn't the type to pay me a visit, my parents were family, and Yusuke was still comatose) she pushed the door wide and stepped back. A pair of skinny legs topped by a pleated purple skirt bounced in, the tiny person's torso completely obscured by the enormous bouquet of sunflowers clutched in slender arms.

The sight of my favorite flowers would normally trigger an uncontrollable smile.

Now, though, their bright petals sent a dagger of sharp dread deep into my gut.

"Eeyore!" Her face managed to shove its way through the riot of flowers in her arms, smile as huge and bright and eager as her voice, hair dusted with petals made of gold. "Oh my god, the train was packed, they nearly squished your sunflowers and—oh. Oh."

Kagome stopped dead in her tracks when she realized I was not, in fact, alone. Our eyes met, wide and panicked—and then hers flickered to my right.

They flickered to Kurama.

The fox demon—the fox demon whom Kagome had met five hundred years before—observed her through shrewd, perceptive eyes. For a moment he and Kagome just gazed at each other in silence, her jaw dropped, his mouth schooled into a thin line of suspicious neutrality. The silent spell held for what felt like minutes, and then Kurama's eyes flickered to me with a glint of cold emerald green.

"Well, Keiko," he said, tone as dry as bone. "It seems you're rather popular today."

In the solemn stillness of the room, I heard Kagome gulp.


NOTES:

Those of you who've read Daughters of Destiny might ought to be screaming right about now.

For those who haven't, here's a recap: I've written a side-story to this fic called Daughters of Destiny, in which Kagome and Keiko travel into the past together. In it they meet (among others) Kurama in his Youko form. Soooo basically there's a chance Kurama might recognize Kagome here, which would complicate matters. You DO NOT HAVE TO READ THAT FIC to understand this chapter, or the next chapter. Just know that Kagome and Kurama have met before.

And to that end, I decided on how DoD fits in Lucky Child's timeline. Kagome and Keiko went on their adventure to the past in the summertime, just before the most recent schoolyear started, so to them they met Yoko only a few months prior. For Kurama, it's been 500 years since they met. Yay, timelines.

This past week, meanwhile, was pretty dang crappy overall, notable exception being all of YOU. I so appreciate the support, and I hope you enjoyed this little interlude as Keiko's life calms back down after recent excitement. Thank you so much: MissIdeophobia, kuriboh1233, Deathe, rickrossed, wolfzero7, mayacompany, mikklystar, Viviene001, xenocanaan, LadyDV011, DiCuore Alissa, Marian, Counting Sinful Stars, NinjaDemonAngel, general zargon, MetroNeko, DreamingTraveler, Leahcar-Soutaichou, Yume, rya-fire1, Vyxen Hexgrim, KhaleesiRenee, masqvia, Just 2 Dream of You, Kaylamarie517, zubhanwc3, EmmieSauce, Kaiya Azure, Wistful Sin, LadyEllesmere, Lady Rini, Bergholt Stuttley Johnson, Crackles McKraken, wennifer-lynn, Meno Melissa, Toushou-sama, o-dragon, rikku92, Miqila, Dawn17, Gwendolyn-sama, DeathAngel457, Beccalittlebear, A, Dark Rose Charm, Ghiro, DJ, shen0, WaYaADisi1, ahyeon, SesshomarusLuvr, Kimimakku, Tay, yofa, RedPanda, and three guests! Also special thanks to Laina Inverse, who read and reviewed like 30 chapters in a row and totally blew up my inbox in the best way possible. YOU ARE ALL TREASURES.