Warnings: None


Lucky Child

Chapter 69:

"This Is the Choice I Stand By; This is the Path I Take"


The star map overhead danced and whirled like something from a dream, casting minute pops and sparks of errant light across the listening faces of Kagome and Minato. Neither of them interrupted me, thank my lucky stars. I'm not sure I would have the strength to finish my story if they did. I'd called them to this meeting in Minato's underground command station the second I'd bid Yusuke and the others goodbye that night—"the others" including Amanuma, the name of whom both of my switcheroo friends had recognized at once, recognitions accompanied by twin dropped jaws and a gasp of shock from Kagome. I tried not to look at their faces while I spoke, much though I wanted to know what they were thinking when I explained my decision not to pull a Mean Girls and treat the kid with all the disdain with which a proper high school girl should by all rights be capable. It wasn't right, I said, to let this boy suffer the way he was fated, even if his suffering was canon, and thus I could not let that suffering rage unchecked—and then I held my breath and waited.

I waited for them to rebuke me—or to wish me luck.

I wasn't sure which way this pendulum might swing.

It felt like a long time passed, even though it couldn't have been more than a minute or two before Kagome cleared her throat and sat up straight. The vinyl bench beneath her squeaked, loud in the stillness of Minato's fortress. Sweat beaded on my neck and rolled down the length of my throat, a cold track left in its chill wake.

"Well," she said. She shot Minato (his face impassive, regarding me with cool detachment) a defiant look, as if daring him to contradict her. "I, for one, think you did the right thing."

I could only blink, astonished. "You do?"

She hummed. I stared, waiting for the "but," for the other shoe to drop—but neither came. My knees weakened. I sat down, head in my hand, elbow on my knee. My palm smelled like the meat we'd grilled at the restaurant, aroma clinging to my clothes and hair. Kagome made the sound of a worried mother hen; I felt her presence at my side a moment later.

"You said—you said, what if you ensure Amanuma dies, but then somehow Koenma can't resurrect him?" she said, arm going around my back like a comforting scarf. "It's a valid concern. But that's not even the worst 'what if.'"

I raised my head. Looked into her drawn face and the tight smile on her small mouth.

"You could ensure Amanuma bands with Sensui, and along the way a hundred new things could go wrong," she said. "Amanuma could die before Kurama is supposed to kill him. Or Amanuma could be angry at you for rejecting him and fight harder, not lose against Kurama at all."

Truth be told, neither of those possibilities had occurred to me—and they were arguably both worse the possibility I'd cooked up, of a missed opportunity for resurrection. The thought of them stilled the air in my lungs; I only started breathing again with Kagome told me to do so, a command uttered with a chiding look and a knowing giggle.

"You aren't the only one who's overthought this," she went on. "I've wondered, too, what consequences all the little canon aberrations will cause in our futures." Her smile, tight though it was, managed to make her eyes crinkle. "You weren't supposed to meet Amanuma now, Keiko. But you have, and you can't change that. When canon has already gone so far off course, is there any point trying to put it back on track? Maybe, in that case, it's best to see where the new track leads, and hope it arrives at the same destination even while taking a different course." Her face screwed up. "But also maybe I'm not making sense."

Minato's brusque tones cut in like a razor. "You are making sense. And I agree." He stood up, back ramrod straight and head inclined just so as his blue eyes blazed. "I will confess I don't like the thought of such a complete breach of fated events. But at the same time, you are the earliest along in your story. This is a valuable research opportunity."

I winced, but not in a bad way (if that even makes sense). Minato's words were a little harsh on the surface. Kagome certainly shot him a sharp glare, but I just laughed and shook my head. "I didn't want to call myself a guinea pig, but I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't occurred to me." Leave it to Minato to see the tactics at play in my decision. "Amanuma does play a key role in events to come, but he's no Yusuke. He's no Sensui, even. I don't think he's as much of a linchpin as some of the other Yu Yu Hakusho characters."

"What are you saying?" Kagome asked.

"I'm saying that if I can test the waters and see just how much canon can be stretched without breaking it, these events with Amanuma acting as my litmus test," I said, nodding at her and Minato in turn, "it could benefit the both of you when your stories kick into gear."

She stared at me a second—and then she grimaced. "You martyr!" The word heaved forth on the edge of an exasperated sigh, her hand tangling with her thick bangs, eyes closing after they rolled.

"You know me. Always looking for a chance to show off," I joked. All jokes died when I added, "Though I'll admit giving Hiruko what he wants puts a sour taste in my mouth."

"And in mine," Minato concurred.

Kagome nodded "Me, too."

We shared a moment of contemplative silence. The Hiruko of it all weighed heavy on my heart—had been weighing heavy on my heart for a month, ever since Yusuke saw him standing over Sakyo's shoulder back in Tarukane's mountain mansion. I'd had a month to grapple with the idea of his presence in my physical world. I'd only had a few hours to grapple with Amanuma's. Perhaps the month of contemplation regarding Hiruko had prepared me to wrestle with Amanuma, because after my talk with Kurama and frantic calls to Kagome and Minato, I'd been able to take a minute to breathe. To think. To slot everything I knew into neat (if not agonizing) categories. Kurama's pep-talk had helped, of course. It had given me some perspective. Waiting in my room for Minato to open a TARDIS-like portal in my closet door had even afforded me time to jot down a pros and cons list in a journal, too, and that had also helped.

My decision hadn't been simple, of course.

But in the end, it had been easy—the way the right decisions all so often are.

"My mind's been racing all night, all afternoon, ever since Amanuma showed up," I said. The quiet hums and beeps of the command center permeated the air like the heartbeat of some great beast. Minato and Kagome watched me carefully while I spoke, Kagome's arm tightening the slightest bit around my shoulders. "I don't intend to throw canon completely off the rails or anything. Too much at risk to do that, but... I don't know. It doesn't seem canon can be kept perfectly in line, either. And if that's the case, why run myself ragged trying to fight it?"

"You've been doing just that chasing after Hiruko," Kagome said. "Worrying yourself to death over breaking canon on top of worrying about him…"

"I'll never stop worrying," I admitted—and that admission took an effort untold. I kept talking with my eyes closed tight. "I don't think it's possible for me to ever stop worrying. But I can try to roll with changes better. I can try a new tactic." I made an effort to correct my posture, to channel Minato's upright sensibilities, force confidence until I felt it inside myself. "Instead of worrying about the little details that are going wrong around me, I'm going to adjust my thinking. Try to focus on the bigger picture." I was trying to convince myself of this as much as I was trying to convince my peers. "The small decisions I make along the way don't matter so much, so long as in the end they add up to a greater whole: Yu Yu Hakusho's happy ending, and the subversion of all the end-of-world scenarios Yusuke prevents."

"Like a Monet."

It was Minato who said this; surprise opened my eyes and drew them to him. He stood with hands in his pockets, the lightest of smiles ghosting across his lips. The moment he drew the comparison, it made sense to me, even if before the comparison had not occurred.

"Exactly," I said. "I think that's right."

Kagome frowned. "Sorry, you two, but a Monet?"

Minato didn't reply; he walked to the long, low control panel dominating the center of the underground amphitheater and began fiddling with the control, the light screens projected above the command station blinking and shifting through a series of images almost too fast for me to follow. I turned back to Kagome.

"Claude Monet was a French painter. He was—" I found I didn't know the term in Japanese, however; I switched to English on reflex. "He was an impressionist. He painted—"

She pointed over my shoulder, eyes widening. "Oh, I remember! Water lilies!"

Minato had summoned a selection of Monet's work, mostly of his myriad paintings of colorful water lilies; among the rotating mass of images I spotted "The Japanese Footbridge," "Woman with a Parasol," and the eponymous "Impression, Sunrise." The saturated colors and broad brush strokes, the sense of light and depth, all so characteristic of his paintings—it had been a while since I'd seen them up close. Not since my past life, actually, when my grandmother had given me a book of his work for a birthday present. We'd loved Monet, my grandmother and l. The memory brought a smile to my face.

"Yeah." I caught Minato's eye and gestured at "Woman with a Parasol." "And when you zoom in…"

He did as indicated, zooming in on the luminous grass at the bottom of the painting—only the closer the view became of the flowers dotting the grass became, the clearer it became that the flowers were no more than smudges of paint, featureless and without detail atop green and brown stripes of paint and the blue background of the woman's dress (though up so close you couldn't tell). Nothing flowerlike remained of the yellow smudges at all.

"Oh." Kagome's nose wrinkled. "It's a mess."

"It is. It's an inscrutable, colorful mess." My lips curled into a helpless smile. "And when you pull back, it's a beautiful field of flowers."

Minato zoomed out again. The flowers became themselves once more.

"Perhaps it's wishful thinking, that the choice I've made with Amanuma will turn out this way—that the mess I create now will contribute to a larger whole I can look back on with satisfaction. But that is my hope, and this is my choice." I shrugged, unable to do anything more elaborate than that. "My heart is in my teeth, but this is the choice I stand by, and this is the path I take."

"I'm sorry—that last part." Minato looked over his shoulder as he banished the images of the paintings one by one, frowning. "The path you…?"

My cheeks colored. "Oh. Sorry. I said—" And I had to repeat myself in Japanese, because I hadn't switched back from English in some time. Rubbing the back of my neck I muttered, "Even though I've grown up with Japanese, sometimes it's just easier to express myself in English."

"Feels homey, huh?" Kagome said, cracking a grin.

I grinned back. "It does."

Minato watched us, smiling, but his smile possessed a wry edge I couldn't help but notice. "The two of you are lucky, to converse in that respect." I couldn't help but note that he changed the subject just then, either, with a shake of his head and a clearing of his throat. "At any rate. What are your plans involving Amanuma?"

"'Plans' is a generous term," I muttered, lips twisting. "I was a bit too stunned to really get to know him, but Yusuke and Kuwabara promised to meet him again next Sunday. I supposed I'll come with and see what shakes down." A moment's hesitation before I added, "I might let Yusuke and Kuwabara guide that friendship."

"And the Kurama of it all?" Minato asked.

"I'm not sure. Still debating the wisdom of telling him he's meant to kill the kid, but..."

"From what I remember, he is not the type to be ruled by his emotions," Minato said.

"No. He's not." But even with that reassurance, I didn't want to think about that anymore. Time for a subject change of my own. "I think my best bet is to let this run its course as an informed observer. Be kind to the kid, but don't try to force anything. Let Kuwabara and Yusuke take the reins. Happy medium between walking away and swooping in like the albatross I am, I guess."

Kagome nudged my knee with her own. "Good thinkin', Eeyore."

"Be sure to keep us informed," Minato said.

"I will," I told them—and I meant it.

Much though Kurama could offer some comforts, it was Minato and Kagome who truly understood my plight, and it was the two of them who remained best equipped to understand the dilemma of my choices.

With their blessing regarding Amanuma and my decision to treat him with civility (such a small decision, when put in such bald term; such a small decision with potentially far-reaching consequences), the night was at its end. Minato walked Kagome to the door of the arcade, seeing her off on her way home, before escorting me to the supply closet where my portal home awaited. A typical drop-off, all things considered, even if the reason for our meeting had been anything but. We'd had an occasional meeting since Minato had delivered Botan to me so many months before, but he'd remained distant since then aside from the occasional and utterly cursory check-in. Minato was never cold (he was too polite to be that) but he'd met all of mine and Kagome's invitations for frozen yogurt with civil declinations.

As I stepped over the threshold of the closet-portal, transitioning from the humid arcade and into the dry quiet of my bedroom, an image of Minato's wry smile flashed through my head. Perhaps I was simply tired of thinking about myself and my own problems, albatross nature desperate for something to mother into distraction, but I turned on my heel with an inquiry on my mouth. I smiled. Minato saw this as he reached for the doorknob and stopped.

"Hey. Quick question," I said.

One blond brow lifted, eloquent in its silence—and at his deadpan stare the mothering albatross wings in my soul closed up tight, looked away, and whistled with awkward nonchalance, nerve lost in the span of two seconds.

Great.

So much for a distraction.

"Um," I said, searching desperately for another topic. I found one in short order, though it sounded lame even to me. "Um—is it OK for me to play the Sailor V games?"

His brow shot up higher still, in danger of melding with his cropped hairline.

"You have them out in public so I assume it is," I continued, well aware I was almost babbling, "but Amanuma is interested in learning to play them better, so I wanted to ask…"

Minato shut his eyes and shook his head, as if perplexed by me. "It's fine. I knew putting them in public would attract attention. I mostly use them to monitor for Scout activity, anyway."

That got my ears perking, lemme tell ya. "Have you seen…?" I asked, now well aware I was fishing.

Minato smiled. "Do you really want to know?"

Yes, no, of course, but also of course not—I knew it was a bad idea to get involved, much though I wanted to. I stuck out my tongue. "Spoilsport."

That got a laugh out of him. "Best not let the wires cross," he said, grasping the doorknob and pulling the door toward him and the arcade threshold—but he paused. Stood there, staring at the floor, until he raised his eyes to mine with a sly smile. "But for the record, captain—whenever you or Kagome play, I'm sent a ping." His smile widened. "Your scores have improved lately."

I grinned back. "Good to know."

It was gratifying to know Minato had a sense of humor, that he could make small, sly jokes when the occasion called for it. He had a sense of humor buried under his dour side, under the side of him trained by duty and honor to put responsibility first and friendship second. As I wandered into my bedroom and sat restless on my bed, pillow held loosely to my chest, I wondered if he would be funnier in German. I certainly thought I was funnier in my native English than I was in Japanese, all my years speaking the latter be damned. That's why Kagome and I almost always slipped into English when we were with each other, why I'd resorted to English when expressing myself around Kurama. It felt more natural. It was a pity I didn't speak German, and that I didn't know anyone who did I could introduce to Minato—

It was around this time I got an idea. Probably the best idea I'd had all night, in fact, and one that suited my internal albatross quite nicely.

Putting the idea into action took a little finagling, of course. A bit of research and some flipping through a certain catalogue—but only half an hour's worth of work, really, and most of it involved shuffling stuff around, which isn't much effort at all when you get right down to it. No trouble at all in the grand scheme of things. Happy to do it, really. Whistling a tune, I trotted down the stairs just as my parents were finishing cleaning the kitchen for the night, last of the cooks and servers bidding them goodbye as they shuffled out the alley door for the evening. I sat at the bar and slid a packet of papers across it with a chirp of, "Hello, Mom. Signature, please."

She put down the steel wool she'd been using to scrub out a stubborn pot and peered at the papers on the bar, eyes brightening a watt or two when she recognized them. "You finished your class selection!" she said. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"You're welcome." I produced a pen with a flourish. "Now sign my life away, please."

"Of course, of course," she said, but she couldn't resist flipping through the sheets until she found what I'd chosen. A quick scan with her brown eyes and she said, "Oh, interesting choice. Dance as an elective?"

I shrugged. "Always wanted to try it."

"I see." A second scan. Her brows lifted. "More literature?"

"It's my favorite!"

"Psych, philosophy…" Her lips pursed. "No more math?"

"Well, I'm just about finished. I thought I'd take the final stuff my senior year."

"Yes, but…" She sighed. "Well, if you're sure—wait." Her eyes widened. "You want to take German classes?"

At that I could only grin. "They offer them on Saturdays," I said, "in place of regular homeroom."

Mom sighed, a little flummoxed by the choice, but she signed her name on the approval line regardless. When she asked I told her I just thought the classes sounded fun, and that since I'd already tested out of more English classes, colleges would find it impressive if I took another foreign language. She bought that reasoning without undue complaint, though she thought French would be a more aesthetic option for a second foreign language choice.

I couldn't tell her the real reason I wanted to take German: I wanted to find out if Minato was indeed funnier in his own language, even if it meant crossing the wires of our fandoms just a little more than was necessary—and I wanted, perhaps, to give him some of the comfort speaking one's native tongue so often afford me.

But of course, Mom wouldn't understand any of that.

It was amazing, though, how eager I felt to complete my class choices all of sudden, when before I'd looked at them as such a burden—as such a reminder of the inconsequential nature of my role in Yu Yu Hakusho. But that was textbook Not-Quite-Keiko for you, finding motivation just about anywhere but in myself. It was sort of depressing, really, how unmotivated I'd been to pick classes for my own sake, but the minute someone else got involved—

Before I could delve into the dark of that particular rabbit hole, from down the hall I heard my bedroom phone ring. I climbed the stairs two and a time and threw myself belly-down atop my bed, glancing at the clock as I threw my course list onto my desk and snatched the phone off the cradle on the final ring. 9:30 PM. Not too late, then, so probably a friend. Yusuke or Kuwabara, if I had to guess.

I was right; Kuwabara's rough voice grated my name through the connection a moment later. "Hi, Kuwabara. How are you?" I replied, flopping onto my back with phone balanced precariously on my turned cheek.

"I'm good, I'm good—but enough about me! It's you I'm worried about!"

I gave my bedroom wall a deadpan stare. "You said two words about yourself. Don't be dramatic."

"I'll be dramatic if I gosh darn wanna, Keiko! First time I've seen you in a month and you ran out in the middle of dinner like you'd gotten sick or somethin'?!" His aggressive voice dropped low, plunging right into the depths of worry. "You didn't actually get sick or somethin', did ya?"

"No, I didn't get sick." Lying to him hurt, but it felt like a necessary evil—as lying so often did these days. "Just needed some air."

"Good," he said. "Kurama was telling us you've been busy with high school stuff, you're behind on some things because of the school transfer and skipping a grade…"

He trailed off, as if waiting for me to deny or confirm. "Sounds about right," I said.

"OK." But he didn't sound convinced. "And I asked Yusuke, too, and he said it's pointless to nag you. If you want to talk about it, you'll talk about it, but not a minute before."

"That sounds about right, too."

"OK. Um." He paused, and then the words burst out of him like steam from a teakettle. "But Keiko—you'd tell me if something was wrong, right? Like if something was really, really wrong? Like if you needed help, you'd tell me?"

My heart swelled. "Of course I would."

"Good. Just—ah." I could practically hear him blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, staring at the floor as he avoided my gaze. "I worry about you, y'know?"

"You really shouldn't," I said, fighting to keep a giggle from my voice (and a tear from my eye, if all truth is being told, because after this night of emotional wreckage this call tugged at every last heartstring I possessed). "I'm a big girl."

"I know, I know," he grumbled. "You've never been the type who needed rescuing or whatnot, but still. I'm here if you need me." And his voice turned plaintive once more. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do." A lump gathered in my throat. Although he didn't know it, I'd needed this call from him tonight, and I meant every word when I said, "You're my best friend."

"Damn straight, I am!" he said, preening like a peacock. He gasped, though, and made a wordless noise of excitement through his teeth. "Oh, oh Keiko—now don't get too excited, but I've got something really, really cool in the works, and it's not a sure thing yet so I'm not going to tell you what it is, but if it works out the way I want it to, next fall is gonna be sick."

I frowned, sitting up in a tangle of phone cords and bedclothes. "Really, now?"

"Hell yeah!" He modulated his town, clearing his throat and speaking like he'd been called on by a teacher. "But like I said, no guarantees, so I gotta keep a lid on the specifics until I get this more nailed down. Don't want to disappoint you if it doesn't work out, y'know?"

"Well, color me intrigued. I will wait with bated breath." And speaking of waiting and bated breath—mine suddenly hitched. Speaking quickly lest my courage fail me, I clenched my fist around the phone and said, "Say, Kuwabara—I never did follow up with you about your mission for Spirit World. The rescue mission in the mountains?" A deep breath, bracing and cool. "How'd that go for you?"

"How'd that go?" he repeated, incredulous. "Yusuke said he and Botan filled you in."

"They did. But I never got your side of it before the school stuff swallowed me whole." I did my best to sound casual, but interested, encouraging him to talk. "Anything you want to talk about? Anything exciting Yusuke probably forgot to mention?"

"He would forget to mention if I did something badass, wouldn't he?" Kuwabara groused—and yet he sighed. "But no, not really. Mission went off without a hitch."

There followed a pause.

"Though I did meet someone pretty nice," he said.

He didn't say it in an overly excited way. No yelling or screeching or babbling—but his voice brightened a tough, lifting a little, and my heart quickened in response. I sat up straighter on my bed, free hand winding tight into the spiral cord of my phone.

"Oh?" I said.

"Yeah—the girl we rescued? Yukina? She was really sweet!" He spoke with that same eager brightness as before, though still not yelling or anything. "Healed us right up after we fought those asshole Toguro brothers."

I waited for him to go on. He didn't. "She sounds great," I supplied, hoping it might spur him on.

"She was!" he agreed, and he heaved an annoyed sigh. "Too bad she had to go back to her home world, y'know? I got the feeling she would have fit right in, and—hold on a second." Something rustled against the receiver, and although muffled I heard him bellow, "Shizuru, I'm on the phone! Wait, what the, no no wait I'm sorry stop wait—"

A thump and a thud and a screech later, the line buzzed. Something crackled, and a new voice filtered through the rough connection.

"Sorry, Keiko," said Shizuru, "but my baby brother has a test tomorrow and social hour is hereby over."

The words sounded as desperate as I felt. "Shizuru, wait—!"

"Sorry, kiddo, but I'm pulling rank," she said, unimpressed. "He'll see you when he sees you."

"We were only talking for five minute, sis, why do you have to be such a—" Kuwabara yelled from somewhere in the distance, but his protests did him no good.

A moment later, the line went quite dead.

I pulled the phone from my face and stared at it, disgruntled (and also more than a little pissed at Shizuru, who would suffer my wrath at an unknown point in the near or distant future; my vengeance would not be denied and time would play no role in its deliverance). If only I'd been able to talk to Kuwabara a little longer, I could have pulled more out of him about Yukina—more than the warm but not gushing enthusiasm he'd displayed over the phone. He'd seemed happy about her, sure, but nothing like the exuberance he'd displayed in the anime. This reaction of him was ambiguous. Much too ambiguous for my tastes, and I had no idea what to make of it. It was possible he'd been playing it cool for my benefit, or maybe since Shizuru had been nearby, but…

I was really, really looking forward to seeing the pair of them together at the Dark Tournament, that was for sure.

Sighing, I swung my legs off my bed and put the phone back in its cradle. My course schedule packet had come un-paperclipped when I threw it on my desk; I gathered up the papers and tapped the bottom of them on the surface of the table a few times, securing the top of them with the clip before filing them carefully away inside my school bag. Wouldn't the guidance counselor be surprised when I turned them in early instead of late, or barely under the deadline. I lifted my face to the window to practice my best Keiko Smile, the one I'd wear when his jaw dropped and he stammered out that he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Lots of teeth would be necessary, but not so many that I looked aggressive, and I'd want my eyes to glitter just so—

Two brown eyes did not stare back at me from the window pane.

Instead, two luminous red orbs of fire glared back at me from beyond the glass, reflecting the light of my lamp like coals burnings in the darkness beyond.

I screeched, of course, because that is what I do when I'm frightened out of my own damn skin, and then a purple glow appeared above and between the red sparks and my window slid open with a rattle. "Meigo," Hiei said as he slid onto my desk and hopped lithely to the floor. "What in the world were you doing just now?"

I didn't dignify that question with an answer, because I was on the other side of the room backed all the way up against my bedroom door with my hand over my heart. "Jumpin' Jehoshaphat, Hiei, you fucking scared me!" I said.

He glared, because he was Hiei, and Hiei glares a lot. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

"What kind of question is that?"

More glaring, this time accompanied by a sneer and a look that said I must be the stupidest person alive. "You skipped our meeting," he said, like it was obvious.

And yeah—I had skipped our meeting today, so I could go meet with the other Switcheroo Characters at Minato's arcade. But the thing was, I'd left a note on my window for Hiei to find when he inevitably wondered where I'd gone. "Did you see my note?" I asked, mimicking his it-was-obvious-and-you're-an-idiot tone of voice.

"Yes. And I found it…" He raised his nose so he could look at me down its length. "… insufficient."

I glowered. "You mean you're hungry."

An overstated roll of the eyes. "Your deductive powers never cease to amaze."

"Ugh, fine." I went to my closet, grabbed a coat, and headed for the window. "I could do with a snack, anyway. C'mon."

Hiei followed me out of the window and onto the roof without complaint, seemingly triumphant that I hadn't insisted we use a proper door. I didn't want my parents asking where I was going this time of night, was the thing, and I didn't want them asking why I hadn't eaten dinner; too hard to explain I hadn't had the stomach for food during dinner with the boys, nerves making it impossible to eat. But I felt calmer now, and at the mention of food my belly had buckled with a pang of insistent hunger. Hiei leapt into the night and vanished as I shimmied down the drainpipe and into the alley; he reappeared at my side a moment later, trailing behind me as I led him from the dark side street and into the neighborhood beyond.

Fortunately for Hiei, even though my parents' flagship restaurant had closed for the night, they had a fleet of mobile foodtrucks open into the wee hours of the night that were still bustling. The cook manning the nearest one served up my favorite veggie version of their ramen on the house, happily giving my "charming goth friend" (first word spoken with ample sarcasm) a helping of pork ramen, too, once I told him what Hiei liked. Hiei didn't say anything, just glared, and practically inhaled his meal as we stood at the cart to eat.

"Good, huh?" I asked.

He slurped up noodles and shot me A Look of Significance. "Not as good as usual," he said, but that didn't stop him from taking another enormous bite.

I wasn't sure if I should be flattered the he preferred my parents' cooking, or if I should be glad the cook heading up this cart was too busy with another customer to overhear the indirect insult. Soon the cook swung back over to ask how we were.

"Think you'll get dessert after this?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said.

"Try the crepe place off 7th and 42nd," he said. "Better n' ice cream on a night like this, that's for sure."

Ice cream, huh.

Now there was an idea.

The night had turned chilly, ramen a perfect choice to keep me warm on our outing. I'd been wearing gym shorts when we'd left, forgetting to change into pants when Hiei had demanded food and a trip outside. As we walked away from the ramen cart, I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets and sighed. Full belly, nice and warm, only my legs felt cold as we slowly walked back home, two Keiko-flavored popsicles carrying the rest of me through the night. I giggled at the imagery, earning an annoyed look from Hiei, so I stopped—but thinking about popsicles reminded me of ice cream again.

"You in the mood for dessert?" I asked.

Hiei scowled.

I wasn't sure if that was a yes or not, but he didn't protest when I steered us in the direction of an ice cream parlor nearby. I stopped outside of its big plate glass windows and nodded at the colorful awning, the counter with its many tubs of ice cream being scooped onto cones by servers in paper hats. Hiei narrowed his eyes at it, staring at my smiling self with outright suspicion. I couldn't keep a grin off my face, expression as bright and happy as the yellow awning hanging above the shop's door. I vaguely wondered how they stayed open this time of year, but I guess ice cream is a favorite no matter the season.

I jerked my head toward the shop. "You ever had this before?" I asked.

Another of his 'are you stupid' expressions. "Yes," Hiei said, hands shoving almost violently into his pockets. "Why?"

I'm a little ashamed to admit I was disappointed I wouldn't get to introduce him to ice cream, but then again, he'd known about record players; this shouldn't have surprised me. "So it's called…?" I said, trailing off so he could finish the sentence… and hopefully with the phase 'sweet snow.'

Hey. What can I say? I'm a trashy fangirl at heart, through and through.

But Hiei surprised me again.

"What are you on about?" he said, head tossing like a defiant horse. "It's ice cream, Meigo. It says so on the damn sign. I'm no idiot, and I can read." He turned away, slouching in his dark cloak. "And I don't care for ice cream, anyway."

That last statement struck me momentarily dumb. "You—you don't?" I managed to blurt when I found my voice.

"Of course not," he spat. "Pointless human invention. Absolutely useless." He looked at me over his shoulder, baleful and accusatory. "Nothing that cold has the right to taste good."

For a minute, it was all I could do to stare, slack-jawed… and then it hit me.

Holy shit—Hiei got tossed off a goddamn ice island by a bunch of ice demons. He associated cold with bad, with rejection, with pain. Why in the fucking hell would he like ice cream, of all things? It took something he hated and combined it with a good taste, making a mockery of his long and deeply held associations, and—

Well, then.

No wonder he didn't care for ice cream overmuch, let alone have a cutesy name for it like "sweet snow."

I put a hand to my forehead with a laugh, chiding myself for this mistake. "Y'know, you're right," I said. Hiei eyed me with suspicion, so I offered him a shrug and an apologetic smile. "And besides. It's too cold outside for ice cream, anyway." I walked past him and latched onto the arm of his cloak, dragging him after me down the street. "C'mon. Let's head over to that crepe place we heard about."

He wrenched his arm out of mine with a snarl of protest, but nonetheless he dogged my steps down another street, and then another, until we found the crepe place the cook had mentioned. Hiei seemed to like the crepes, though I didn't get him the sweetest one on the menu (he wasn't the biggest fan of sweets, I'd learned, though he didn't hate them or anything, preferring when something acidic cut the sweetness; Yusuke was the real sugar fiend of our friend group). We sat outside on the curb to eat, consuming the baked goods in silence that wasn't… it wasn't bad, I guess. Hiei wasn't the silent statue fanfiction often made him out to be, but he still wasn't a man prone to pointless chatter, either, and in this moment, we both felt content to eat.

When we finished, however, I felt I had something to say.

"Sorry I've been skipping our meetings," I said.

Hiei looked at my askance, mid-bite and only mildly interested in what I had to say. In the past month I'd attended our meetings as scheduled, but I'd left early and skimmed library books during them, distracted by my Hiruko research. Wasn't sure if Hiei had noticed, though of course he'd noticed when I failed to show up at all. That had to count for something in this odd friendship of ours, I decided.

"Just… I've been busy." I shrugged, crumpling my crepe's wrapped in my fist. "But I think things are going to calm down a bit, so… meetings are back on, as scheduled."

Hiei harrumphed, took a bite, and chewed. "Good," he said once he swallowed. "You've been on the verge of implosion since we returned from the mountains."

I blinked, taken aback. "You noticed?"

"How could I not?" he said, annoyance grating in his harsh voice. "Even when you show up to our meetings, you're a thousand miles away. It's not like you. It's irritating." Another bite, this one vicious, all gnashing teeth and clacking jaw. Through a full mouth he muttered, "You haven't even pestered me about my parting from Yukina."

Gently, carefully, I smoothed the edges of my gym shorts.

Gently, carefully, I kept a devious grin from appearing on my face.

Gently, carefully, I asked, "Do you want me to pester you about your parting from Yukina?"

Hiei went stock-still, fingers tightening around his crepe.

"Because the fact that you brought it up," I oh-so-primly suggested, "makes it seem as though, perhaps, you want me to pester you about your parting from Yukina."

His fist completely clenched, crepes smushing into paste under his hand. "Utter garbage," Hiei snarled.

"I can pester you about it if you want me to, Hiei," I said, face as innocent as a newborn lamb's. "I'd be happy to do that for you, if that's what you way."

"Don't be ridiculous." The crepe fell to pieces, pattering onto the pavement in a chocolatey shower. Hiei turned toward me with a glower that could melt stone, though under its glaring heat my angelic smile remained unmoved. "That is not what I want and you are perfectly aware of it, Meigo."

I lifted a hand. Placed it on his shoulder. Smiled at him as a mother might, with understanding and unconditional affection. His did a double take between my face and my hand as I very sweetly told him, "Any time you want to talk about your feelings, Hiei, please know that I am here for you—"

His face turned as crimson as the strawberries lying squished and uneaten on the ground below. "Be quiet you annoying wench!" Hiei snarled, and in a flash of black and a rush of hot air he disappeared from sight.

I couldn't keep up the charade any longer. As soon as he disappeared, leaving my hand to clutch nothing but empty air, I fucking lost it. My head hung on a boneless neck between my knees as I guffawed, a rich and true belly laugh bubbling from my gut and between my lips, a cackle soaring after him into the dark of the night like—like a bird after a bug? Something. A metaphor escaped me, but surely it would involve an albatross.

"Love you, too, Hiei," I wheezed between my laughed. "See you next week, you little shit."

As I got up to walk home (and to pick up Hiei's litter), it occurred to me that this night—every last part of it, really—hadn't gone as expected. First my research had been interrupted, and then Amanuma had arrived, and then I'd had the frankest talk with Kurama yet, and then I'd been given the random support of Kuwabara, and the unexpected gift of laughter from Hiei had dumped itself onto my laugh… and that laughter was certainly the last thing I'd expected after such a harrowing evening.

The last thing I'd expected, but probably the thing I'd needed most.

Truth be told, each in their own way, all of the boys had come through for me that night. Yusuke had advised Kuwabara from a distance on how best to support me, and doubtless Yusuke had been behind the trip to the arcade in some form or fashion. Kurama had given me the strength I'd needed to make a hard decision, and a reminder of my principles when I had lost my perspective of them. Kuwabara had been there for me, too, a reminder that I was loved and valued in a dark moment, and of course Hiei had swooped in like a weird goth bat and made me laugh like a hyena, in his own way providing support he didn't know I needed.

None of them knew it, but these tiny gestures added up in enormous ways. Alone, I could only do so much, but with them behind me, I felt I could do anything. I only hoped that everything worked out, and that the choices they gave me the strength to make—the choices I made as Kei, and not merely as Keiko's replacement—turned out for the best. For all of us.

I could only hope that these early days were the painful, madcap strokes of a fledgling Monet, and that in the end they would come together to form a beautiful image coherent—and not a portrait of the havoc I feared my choice my wreak.


NOTES:

Yesterday was… a clusterfuck. 10 hours in the car with my parents. They were less than pleasant ("People with mental illnesses are prone to violence and therefore we can't trust you anymore, Star Charter, since you recently disclosed your anxiety disorder to us," is about the gist of what they said—what a load of horse shit that was). This chapter is late because I was basically just too exhausted to function, let alone write. But here we are, and I hope you enjoyed what I managed to produce today.

Writing it was the best part of my weekend, hands down. Thanks for abiding the sort of fluffiness after last week, but it cheered me up, and that was nice.

These next few chapters are going to be a bit of a montage that show the passage of time leading up to the kick-off of the Dark Tournament, which canonically happens during Spring Break (late March in Japan). Stay tuned. I'm not interested in writing reams of filler but there are a few necessary scenes to cover before the Dark Tournament gets underway. Will endeavor to make them speedy.

You made my week last week. Was well and truly nervous to post the previous chapter given its dark nature, but your comments and support blew me away. Hope you like this, and thank you again: Domitia Ivory, almostNEET, The Dramatic Muffin, Kaiya Azure, xenocanaan, MetroNeko, DiCurore Alissa, Marian, Yume, tatewaki2000, bleachfan462, Laina Inverse, Sagira, Nozomi Higurashi, Beccalittlebear, MissIdeophobia, tsaurn, Thyme Willtell, QueenofCloud, morpheusandmuse, C. S. Stars, Ne Quittez Pas, Lady Ellesmere, DeathAngel457, wennifer-lynn, ms kittyholiday, GuestStarringAs, Melissa Fairy, buzzk97, Evanelle, Mistress Anko, Little Dragon Tamer, Blaze1662001, RedPanda923, space time enigma, yofa, Viviene001, Zynis, Kasumi Uchiha, Sterling Bee, Miqila, ahyeon, Valdalya, Snow Sprite 88, Kykygrly, Baoh Joestar, Bergholt Stuttley Johnson, shen0, fringeperson, zubhanwc3, KhaleesiRenee, rezgurnk., CaelynM, Tay, Ash Blade, Tanyeera, Littlebutterfly0, AnimePleaseGood, and three guests.