Warnings: None


Lucky Child

Chapter 76:

"The Belly of the Beast"


For a long time, I fell.

I fell through nothing. I fell down and down and down some more into Alice's endless rabbit burrow, slicing like a thrown dart through darkness and through quiet—quiet cut by the sound of my own scream, of course, but that soon dwindled into silence as my fall continued unabated. My red dress flapped around me, my hair blew back off my face, but no wind streaked across my flailing limbs even as I plummeted. I descended, it seemed, through a vacuum, and even in my panic this struck me as odd.

But then, after a length of time untold, nothing became something.

I was not falling anymore.

It was like diving into a pool, like dropping off a diving board and into a body of unseen matter, momentum slowing and then stopping and then reversing, propelling me upward instead of down. It was as if I'd cannon-balled into liquid wearing a thick lifejacket, the way I bobbed upward like I did. I fell through nothing until I hit the something and felt it drag against my body, bouncing me back to the surface of… of whatever it was with odd, unexpected buoyancy.

When I dared to open my eyes (though only after the horrific lurching in my stomach stilled) I froze solid.

The stomach feelings came back.

Then and there, I had a panic attack.

Totally justified, that panic attack. You'd have one, too, if you were literally eaten by a horrible shadow-monster and then found yourself weightlessly floating in a big, black void, endless darkness dotted by rubble and garbage and floating chunks of debris. And I'd like to think that panic attack—all my huffing and puffing and sobbing and hyperventilation—was one of my more productive moments of anxiety, to boot.

Sure. The sight of what lay in the belly of the beast gave me a panic attack.

But it also gave me answers, and that's not nothing when you have very little else to your name.

Sweat on my brow, bile in my mouth, body quivering with tension, as soon as I was calm enough I spun in place and looked around (I wasn't yet sure how to move, since there was no ground and I was literally floating in empty space). My first impression held true upon closer inspection: Endless black void stretched in all directions, up and down and left and right, which meant there really wasn't a true "up and down and left and right" at all. The endlessness of it staggered. Off in the distance floated the desiccated wreckage of an office building, at least six stories of it, but at this distance I could cover its shape with my thumb. Houses, cars, slabs of concrete, empty cans, dead leaves and trees, scraps of shredded newspaper, it swirled around me like a galaxy of trash, disappearing against the void as it trailed off into the distance. Any normal person would panic at the sight of it, I maintain.

Few, however, would feel the impressions of weirdness and strangeness and creepiness dissolve into the sensation of familiarity. But as I floated there, not daring to look into the emptiness below my feet, that emotion filled my chest to bursting. It had started filling me even while I panicked, from the very first second I opened my eyes in this strange locale.

Against all odds—I knew where I was.

I knew what had happened.

Now the question was, why was I here… and what were the odds of me making it out alive?

My breath hitched at that last thought. The air tasted like dust, damp earth, and static electricity. Pulse fluttered in my wrists and in the roof of my mouth like a living, squirming worm.

I swallowed. I breathed deep. I tried very hard not to panic again.

I had answers, and that wasn't nothing. But it wasn't exactly something, either, considering the nature of those answers to begin with.

My mind raced in those first few minutes, as is only natural, but when time passed and nothing happened, I relaxed in spite of myself. Difficult to remain in a state of panic for prolonged periods, especially without stimuli to perpetuate that panic. It's too tiring to keep up in perpetuity. So I relaxed, and I just… floated there, on the wind of the void, weightless and directionless and still. Sometimes in the distance, bits of rubble struck with an echo like coconuts colliding on an ocean tide. Debris created interesting patterns as it drifted on a lazy, meandering current I couldn't quite pin down with the naked eye. Was this space endless? Did it have borders? Maybe looping edges that always put you back at the same spot? Or could I wander away from this spot, into the abyss, and never be found again?

Was it even possible for anyone to come and find me?

Had the others even realized I was gone?

That last hypothetical was too depressing an option to consider, so I did what anyone would do in my situation, I think: I wrapped my arms around myself, rolled onto my side, and slept.

It was late, after all, and I'd been up since dawn.


Over the sound of the wind in the trees and the songs of the birds on the branches, the din of a car alarm and the blare of a stereo reminded me that I was not, in fact, in the woods somewhere with Hiei, but rather standing in a bit of overgrown park in the heart of Sarayashiki. Ayame had just closed her notebook dossier, having reviewed my weekly report and found it up to her exacting standards, and she looked totally out of place in her kimono against a backdrop of tangled bramble. Sun shone hot on the back of my neck as tall grass tickled my knees beneath my skirt; I sneezed, pollen heavy on the air and making my eyes water.

(Dimly I knew I was not, in fact, in a park at all, and that this was a dream, but I did not choose to wrest control over it and go Lucid. Instead I let the dream play out, because watching a dream—or maybe this was a memory, of sorts—was better than being stuck in… well. In the place I had been before, nameless-but-totally-recognizable as it was.)

Ayame looked up from her notebook. Hesitated. Asked: "May I ask you a question?"

It wasn't like her to ask permission, first. She liked throwing me off balance. Ayame was nothing if not a lover of tests and games, after all, played behind her mask of unfailing social niceties. As a result, I quirked a brow at her, and I was rewarded with another moment of hesitation.

She soon got over it, though, and asked: "How is Sanada Kuroko?"

I didn't reply right away—too shocked, if I'm being honest. Ayame had knocked me off balance even with forewarning, but then again, who can blame me? It had been some time since I'd first met Kuroko. I'd been waiting for Ayame to allude to my trip to see the former Detective for quite a while, but the reckoning had never come. At some point I just had to assume Spirit World hadn't found out about my connection with Kuroko, but maybe since I'd introduced her to Shizuru…

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "So you know about that."

"Of course."

"How?"

"We have our methods," Ayame said, but she did not elaborate.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Be that way. And to answer your question, she seems good. Has two kids. They keep her busy."

Ayame looked pensive. "Children. Yes. Their names are Kaisei and Fubuki, as I recall."

"That's right." I shot her a crooked grin. "What, you have your eye on them to replace Yusuke when the time comes?"

"No." Her tone firmed; I suspected she didn't understand I was just joking. "Sanada-san served Spirit World well. At her request, we intend to keep her and her family out of Spirit World matters."

I nodded—but then I hesitated, too, as Ayame had before. Ayame didn't appear to notice, though. She looked at her dossier again, flipping through the pages and jotting something with a pen she produced from the depths of her voluminous sleeves.

"Say, Ayame?" I said. She looked up from her book. "Kuroko is quite a bit older than Yusuke. She said she retired a long time ago. I did a little math, and… well." My hands twisted together, sweaty all of a sudden. "Did Spirit World really go so long without an operative in place?"

This was all hedging, of course. I knew damn well about Sensui—not that Ayame knew that. Hell, even Kuroko hadn't mentioned Sensui to me yet. My main hope here was to get Ayame talking about Sensui, scour information about him way ahead of his first canon appearance, prepare myself for something that was still months and months away. I'm an overachiever like that, courtesy of Keiko.

But, no dice. Ayame did not intend to indulge me. Instead she put on her very best impenetrable yamato nadeshiko face and asked, "Does it strike you as unreasonable for us to go without a Detective for any length of time?"

I gave her a Look. "You seem intent on monitoring Human World, so yeah, actually. It does."

Her smile was somehow both mocking and demure; Ayame has skills. "Perhaps you don't understand Spirit World as well as you assume," she murmured.

But I was not impressed. "I think I know you pretty well at this point."

"Hmm." Which was a total non-answer, of course. Very 'Ayame.' She shut her book and stowed it in her sleeve before she bowed. "It was pleasant chatting, Keiko, but I must be off."

A very Ayame-style goodbye, one I could not argue with. Trying to get Ayame talking when she didn't want to converse was like demanding directions from a brick wall. I sighed and turned on my heel, mentally preparing myself to wade through the brush and out of the clearing. "Till next week," I said over my shoulder. "And travel safe."

"And you, as well." But I heard her draw in a deep breath, and I didn't walk away. "Keiko?"

I looked at her out of one eye. "Yeah?"

Ayame did not immediately respond. I turned back around. She stood with hands folded inside her sleeves, their long, black trains almost brushing the tops of her white socks and bamboo sandals. She wore a red pin in her coifed hair today. It was shaped like a salmon leaping through water, cresting through the glossy folds of her black hair as if it swam through waves of ink.

"Yusuke is a…" She paused. "He is a free spirit."

"That's a nice way of calling him a ne'er-do-well punk, but sure," I said. "I'll take it."

Her eyes sharpened. "No. I don't mean that as a negative. Yusuke is…" Another hesitation. She spoke with care—with even more care than usual for my very particular Ayame. Every syllable resonated with intention as she explained, "Yusuke goes where the wind takes him. Aside from his death, resurrection, and his swift rise in power, he is in many respects a normal teenage boy."

"I suppose?" I said.

And still she hesitated. Her eyes dropped to her feet, then skated across the grassy ground to mine. Inch by inch her gaze climbed upward until she met my eyes. Smiled, but only slightly—and in that look, I saw something raw. A vulnerability I didn't understand, like perhaps she spoke without artifice at last, her walls and machinations stripped away to reveal true feeling lying hidden underneath.

"Don't let him lose that," she said to me.

I frowned. "What do you…?"

And her walls slammed back into place. Ayame's hands dropped from her sleeves and folded in front of her stomach as she bowed, face hidden behind her shiny hair and the glimmering comb upon it. "I mean only that between his assignments, I hope you will indulge him," that leaping salmon seemed to say. "Till next week."

"See you soon," I replied, though all I wanted was to follow as she turned and headed for the trees—

—but I didn't follow, because this wasn't a dream. It was a memory. It was a dream of a memory, and I had not followed after Ayame on that day in the woods. I had stayed behind and watched her leave, and if I followed her now, whatever came after would be a fabrication of my mind. A wish I made, and fulfilled, because this was my dream and I held all the power here. All my wishes in my dreams, I could grant.

Instead, I watched her go.

I let the memory-dream shred into shards of shapeless color.

My sleep became dreamless again, and when I awoke, I barely remembered the dream at all.


The distraction of dreaming only lasted so long, of course, and soon I announced to the endless void: "Well, this is utterly and completely boring, now isn't it?"

No one answered me. I hadn't expected anyone to do so. I'd awoken after a time (my watch said an hour, maybe an hour and a half) and found myself less panicky, though still dog tired. A long period of tense, silent floating followed my nap, during which I mulled over all the possibilities of escape from this horrible place. None were available to me, however, and soon I had to relax simply because it was too tiring to be tense anymore. My watch informed me it was 3 AM, after all. I'd been eaten by the monster around 1:15 or so. That meant I'd been here, floating, for almost two hours. Sleep threatened, eyes heavy once my thinking became too circuitous to sustain, but I didn't want to fall asleep again. No sleeping. No thinking. Just… floating.

And thus, I became bored.

"I mean really." My words didn't carry far in the endless emptiness, vanishing as if I'd spoken against wet cotton. "What's the deal—somebody's trying to bore me to death?"

Well. More like starve me to death. Thirst me to death? I'd die of dehydration before lack of food. But there was no sense in giving anybody ideas, so I didn't say that out loud.

Was anyone even listening?

I got the hunch at least one person might be. In truth, though, I was talking aloud as much for my benefit as for his. The silence was going to deafen me soon, I felt sure of it.

"This fucking blows." I laced my hands behind my head, leaning back against… well. Nothing at all. "Damn shadow demon could have at least swallowed a few magazines for me to read, but noooo. Instead I have to entertain myself like—like a zoo animal, or whatever." I sat up, sort of, managing a grin. "And a bored Keiko is a destructive Keiko. I'm like a border collie in an apartment, really."

With a flex of muscle, I swam (it was easy once you got the hang of it) through the abyss toward a pocket of debris. Moving through the void was kind of like flying in a lucid dream: If you just surged forward, eye on your destination, the momentum would come and carry you forward. I glided toward an eight-foot slab of shattered concrete and a cracked wooden door, at the foot of which lay a single, punctured tire and a bunch of cardboard boxes, plus a few loose bricks. I grabbed the tire with one hand (there was no weight here, which was interesting) and threw it like a shotput away from me, momentum sending me flying backward until I bumped the concrete block. The tire flew through space toward another lump of trash, colliding with it with a loud pop. The trash-lump disintegrated, bits of it spinning in myriad directions through the darkness until they vanished from view.

"And like any good zoo animal," I remarked to no one, "I will find a way to entertain myself."

It became a game, really. I tried to hit trash with other trash, a game of pool played without pockets or cues—so not like pool at all, I guess, but whatever, I was bored and please cut me some slack. I'd throw a piece of garbage (sometimes huge chunks of rock I'd never be able to lift outside of this space, which was fun) and try to shatter a cluster of debris. The game evolved so that if I could knock one cluster loose and make it shatter another cluster, I got an extra point. Though no one was keeping score, so…

No one was keeping score.

Unlike my New Year's games with my friends.

Friends who were either freaking out about my disappearance, or friends who hadn't noticed I was gone, and I wasn't sure which was worse.

Would they be able to find me, if they noticed I'd vanished?

Because we weren't at the right part in the Yu Yu Hakusho plot yet for them to suspect the right perpetrators, which meant they had no clues, nothing to go on, not a single damn iota of—

My lungs quaked. My pulse quickened. I inhaled, chest shaking, and ran my hands through my hair.

Calm down, girl. Just play your game, and try to keep the faith.

But when I looked around for a new bit of garbage to throw, I saw that I'd depleted the pocket I'd been picking from. I kicked off the nearest object and sailed to a new lump, chucking a brick at a far-off trash heap with frantic vigor. It connected with a pop; I reached to my left for a big chunk of concrete, hefting it above my head like a strongman lifting a weight.

I paused with it held over my head.

Beneath the concrete lay a skull.

It wasn't a human skull, by the look of it. For one thing, it was the length of my torso, and for another, few humans had four eyes arranged in a diamond above a fanged mouth and protracted, horse-like muzzle. Curled horns jutted from its forehead. The bone looked white, almost bleached, all of its former flesh stripped away. Beneath the skull lay a pile of bones, a ribcage fallen to pieces atop a curving spine and at least four arms, all of it bleached the same dramatic white as the skull itself.

With care I placed the concrete back where I'd found it. Reached for a different piece of trash. Flung it toward a garbage pile, only for it to miss and sail unhindered into the distance.

A bead of cold sweat trickled down my face.

My palms felt clammy, so I wiped them on my dress.

"I do wish you'd stop knocking things about," someone said. "My pet is developing quite a case of indigestion, the poor thing."

I'm not sure why I didn't scream at the sound of his smooth, articulate voice. Maybe the numbness building like ice inside my chest kept my lungs frozen, locked in place by dread and fear, rendering me voiceless. Whatever the case, I didn't even scream when I spun in place and found him floating not too far away, only just out of arm's reach at the edge of my chosen trash-pile. He regarded me with a small half-smile, arms crossing over his chest. The fingers resting on his biceps sported black nail polish, but messy, like he'd painted them in a hurry or with an unsteady stand. That detail stood out to me. I'm not sure why, but it did.

I put it aside, though, because I had bigger fish to fry once he started talking.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello," I said.

He waited. Neither of us spoke. He wore human clothes, a leather jacket over a fitted white tee and tailored jeans, pale skin luminous in the darkness of the void. Despite his outfit, different than what I thought he'd wear, I knew who he was at first glance. The distant triumph that streaked through me at that realization (I was right, you see, all my predictions coming true in one fell swoop) didn't taste too sweet, though.

I was right, but being right wasn't necessarily a good thing.

For once in my life, I wished I'd been wrong—because his appearance shredded my hopes of rescue into tatters.

If I was getting out of here, it would be at his discretion, and no one else's.

Not that I had the time to indulge my feelings of despair. I had a role to act. I had a play to perform. So I knocked loose the ice in my throat and pasted on my best Stern-Keiko-Face, all no nonsense, Type A formality and righteous indignation oozing from every pore.

"Who the fuck are you," I said, "and where the hell am I?"

The cursing was all Not-Quite-Keiko and no Classic-Keiko, of course, but the man in the leather jacket didn't appear to mind it either way. He just smiled a little wider and inclined his head, silky hair falling in dark green curls around his shoulders.

"I am Itsuki, and we are in the stomach of a demon called the Uraotoko." Golden eyes looked me up and down, gauging my reaction (one which I squelched down as hard as I possibly could). "He is my pet, of a sort. His stomach is something of a pocket dimension, almost endless—but do be careful with him, I beg you."

And, yup—the truth of the matter, exactly as predicted, all spelled out in plain language: I was, in fact, inside the stomach of the demon that had eaten the boys while Yusuke and Sensui fought, the one Kuwabara broke them out of with his dimension-cutting sword.… but I hadn't expected Itsuki to be so forward, if we're being honest, and for a second I found myself too stunned to move.

I recovered quickly enough, though. "OK," I said, flipping my bangs out of my face. "Why I am here?"

His head tilted to the side, just so. "Interesting."

"… what is?"

"You don't flinch at the thought of demons, or at being swallowed by one. You took that information very much in stride, Yukimura Keiko." His smile got just a little bigger yet again. "I find that fascinating."

His scrutiny sent a shiver up my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself. "Yeah. Well. This isn't the first demon I've met." I paused. "First I've been in the stomach of, thank god, but you get what I mean."

He nodded. "Running in the same circle as the Spirit Detective likely puts you in the paths of many demons, I suspect."

Another wave of shock swept through me, but it dislodging the last of the ice in my throat. "You know I know the Spirit Detective?" My eyes narrowed. "Have you been following me?"

"My pet has." A hint of teeth crept into his smile. "A few of your friends felt him for the shortest of moments, but he slipped away too quickly for them to follow. Your friends will be powerful someday. But they aren't there quite yet, I'm afraid."

I wanted to make a snide remark about my friends being plenty powerful, thank you very much, but I bit the retort back at the last second. Itsuki was dangerous—and much though I hated to admit it, he was right. My friends weren't nearly on his level, let alone the level of Sensui himself (where was Sensui, anyway?). I'd encountered Itsuki way too early in the plot for my friends to truly pose him any threat. No use antagonizing him, in that case. Not if there was even the slightest chance of my friends getting hurt by this demon.

So, I opted for another approach. I spread my hands in a helpless shrug and grinned, wry and full of faux-insouciance. "Heh. This just isn't fair," I told him with a shake of my head. "Clearly you know all about me, but I know nothing about you besides your name." At that I crossed my arms over my chest, Keiko-Stare firmly in place. "I'm going to ask you again. Why am I here? Why did you abduct me?"

Itsuki's head tilted. "Abductions is such an ugly word."

I snorted. "Do you prefer 'kidnapping?'"

"More like… an invitation you can't refuse."

"You've been watching too much Godfather."

"Perhaps." It was his turn to shrug. "I do love human cinema."

A stray fact from YYH, one I had forgotten, floated to the forefront of my mind: Itsuki was a fan of human TV. Unable to help my curiosity, I asked, "What's your favorite genre?"

That seemed to please him, judging by the delighted glimmer in his gaze. "I enjoy dramas. Period pieces are my favorite."

"Because of the costumes?" I asked. "I love the costumes."

"I do, as well," Itsuki told me.

"You really should try Bride of the Water God." I mentally cursed myself for giving him TV recommendations, but I couldn't help myself. "K-drama, absolutely stunning costumes and set design. You'll love it."

"Thank you. I'll try to track it down." His eyes distanced themselves, staring far into the endless abyss. "But beyond the costumes, I enjoy the insight into human history. No matter the costume it wears, human nature truly transcends time and zeitgeists shifting, doesn't it?"

Shakespeare rolled off my tongue on reflex: "'We know what we are, but not what we may be.'"

At that he frowned—and for a second I feared I upset him. "I'm afraid I don't speak English," was all he said, however.

"Pity. It's a lovely turn of phrase." I shook my head again. "But you never answered my question. Why did you abduct me?"

Once again, he answered me without prevarication. "You've thrown quite the wrench into certain plans I have been seeing to fruition," Itsuki said—and at this vague mention of Sensui's plot, a chill clattered up my back. "I want to know why."

"Plans?" Playing dumb felt like my only option. "Sorry, but what plans are these, exactly?"

Finally Itsuki hesitated, no longer firing off answers like a machine gun—which was a damn shame. My brain shot off rapid-fire calculations of its own, darting this way and that through the realm of possibility, trying to determine how best to play out the verbal spar in which I'd found myself embroiled. It was imperative, I reasoned, that I get Itsuki talking. It was imperative I asked more than I answered. Clearly I couldn't say too much. Talking presented a clear danger, a danger that lurked in the line between what Not-Quite-Keiko knew about Itsuki and Sensui frim the anime, and what Yukimura Keiko could possibly know from her time spent in this world. I had to be mindful of that border. The more info Itsuki spilled, the more Yukimura Keiko would know, reconciling what Not-Quite-Keiko knew with what Yukimura Keiko had learned in this new life. The more Itsuki talked, the more I could say without arousing his suspicions… and the fewer lies he could catch me in.

Get him talking, then.

That was the key.

And it might even be the key to getting out of this place, if I played my cards right.

A plan. I only had the vaguest of plans, but if I kept him talking, maybe I'd have more time to come up with something good.

After a time, Itsuki finally spoke. "My business is nothing you need to worry about." At that he even looked a little apologetic. "The fact of the matter is that you've interfered, and thus, you must be investigated."

"You're going to have to be more specific." I drummed my fingers on my arm and lifted a brow. "In what way, exactly, did I interfere?"

I expected him to dodge the question, or answer it with a prepared statement about keeping identities private—finished by some subtle-yet-smartass comment about how I surely understood one's need for privacy. Instead, Itsuki surprised me. His eyes widened, white showing all the way around his golden irises like coins dropped onto snow.

"Do you not already know?" he asked.

"Uh." His surprised reaction took me aback, made me stumble just a little. "How could I?"

But Itsuki didn't reply right away. He put a hand to his chin, staring down at his feet as I watched, and waited. One long finger tapped his cheek.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Running in the same circle as…" His eyes flickered to me, pensive and perceptive. "And yet you know nothing. They aren't keeping you as informed as we anticipated, it seems."

"By 'they,' I assume you mean Spirit World," I said, because it felt like a safe guess. He'd been watching me; he had to know I knew about them. I shrugged, lips twisting in a grimace. "Sorry, but Spirit World gets off on being enigmatic and not providing people with critical information. It's annoying."

Itsuki chuckled, low and warm in his chest. "They haven't changed at all, then."

The statement, so short and simple, said far more than those six little words implied. I latched onto the meaning like a lamprey and sunk my teeth in deep. "You've dealt with them before," I said, not bothering to phrase that as a question. "And earlier you mentioned the Detective." When Itsuki's eyes widened, I couldn't help but smirk. "Can I hazard a guess you've had a run-in with one of Yusuke's predecessors?"

"In a manner of speaking." He wagged a finger at me. "You're a sharp one, Yukimura Keiko."

"Thank you." No sense telling him I was cheating, in a way, and that he was giving me too much credit. "But you should know something."

Another of his curious head-tilts. "And what is that?"

"My friends will be coming for me." I hoped so, anyway, and I tried to look confident about the possibility. "You haven't hurt me. You've been polite. I'm inclined to believe you don't have any intention of doing otherwise, provided you get what you want out of this conversation."

His mouth curled. "Sharp again."

"Thanks again," I said. "But my friends—and this isn't a threat, I promise. It's more like a word of caution." My hands came up, palms toward him in an 'I surrender' gesture. "I'm not being menacing, I swear."

If he appreciated the assurance, he didn't show it. "Go on," was all he said, eyes narrowing just a tad.

"OK." A deep breath filled my lungs. "My friends are going to notice I'm gone. They're going to try to find me. In an ideal universe, you'd return me to my home before they find wherever this is and things get messy—for their sake as much as yours." It took a bit of willpower to force a winning grin onto my face, but I did it, trying to look congenial despite the painful awareness that Itsuki held all the power here. "I'm totally willing to answer your questions, for the good of us both, if you'll return me to my home in short order. Don't want my buddies getting too worked up in my absence, y'know?"

Maybe it was my grin, or my friendly demeanor, or just the whole monologue I'd spewed, but Itsuki's shoulders shook as he laughed, eyes closing with humor. When he opened them again, he offered me another of his cool, bland smiles. "Well, now," he said, laughter still coloring his voice like paint. "How can I argue with such efficient logic?"

I stared at him. "I can't tell if you're patronizing me or not."

"Six of one. Half a dozen of the other." His smile grew. "You have no idea of the danger you're in."

He didn't make it sound like a threat. Just an observation, if of a dire nature—but I knew that Itsuki would not have said those words without reason. My pulse quickened. "Well. I saw the skull. I think that gave me a hint." I swallowed down the emotion in my throat. "You've left demons in here to starve to death, haven't you?"

Itsuki didn't reply right away. He just looked at me, looked and looked until I had to look away, toe kicking at an empty beer bottle as it floated by. Light glinted off the glossy glass in a rainbow shimmer—and just where was the light in here coming from, anyway? Did this thing have a bioluminescent sub-space stomach or something?

"I rather like you, I think." Itsuki raised his chin, smiling at my surprise with obvious satisfaction. "I wasn't sure at first, but I have just decided."

His fond stare was more than a little unnerving. Without thinking I blurted, "I'm not going to date until I turn 18, unfortunately."

He laughed. "Oh. Don't worry, Yukimura-san. You're not my type. But one doesn't have to be someone else's type to be friends."

I gave him my best 'excuse you, but aren't you forgetting something?' kind of stare. "Sorry-not-sorry, but friends also don't often abduct friends, so…"

He gave me a look of his own, full of comical admonishment. "Why, Yukimura. I thought we had established that I prefer 'offers one can't refuse.'"

"Oh, right." My eyes rolled like loose marble. "My mistake. I won't let it happen again. But while we're on the subject, what are your feelings on 'forcible relocations' or 'child-snatchings?'"

Another laugh, louder than the one before. "You're funny. I appreciate that." His humor was not meant to last, golden eyes tarnishing. "But in the end, I think I agree. We had best make this quick, hadn't we?"

"On that, we are in agreement." I kept my tone chipper, bright, and not at all reflective of how I felt inside. "Let the interrogation begin."

I thought he would, perhaps, react to the dramatic 'interrogation' the way he'd reacted to 'abduction,' but he didn't. Itsuki simply inclined his head, looked at me down the length of his chiseled nose, and said, "Why did you befriend Tsukihito Amanuma?"

My surprise wasn't fake, even if my question wasn't sincere. "Amanuma? You know Amanuma?" I said.

"Yes," came Itsuki's simple reply.

I floundered some more, stunned he'd name-dropped the kid so soon. "What do you want with a little kid?" I asked, because that was all I could think to say.

"Nothing untoward, I assure you," he said.

And that was all he said. He stood (well, floated) in place in silence, watching as I gaped and tried to form words and failed quite hard at the latter. I opened my mouth more than once to speak, but each time the words died before bubbling back up again. Itsuki's smile seemed amused, but he was hard to read—kind of like Hiruko, sort of, who never stopped smiling and thus was as easy to interpret as the patterns of birds in flight. Eventually, though, I managed to get my face back under control—and with that control came a realization.

Itsuki had handed me quite the opening, mentioning the kid like that, and I intended to take every advantage of this opportunity—even if some small part of me whispered that I should be careful, because this might very well be bait. But what could he be baiting me toward, anyway?

I told the little voice to shut up, and I summoned my courage instead.

"You're that friend Amanuma dumped recently," I said.

It felt gratifying indeed to watch Itsuki go still. He didn't move a muscle, eyes trained on me without flinching, chest even pausing in its steady rise and fall.

"Or… no. Not you." My head tilted, mimicking his motion from before. "But you know who that friend he dumped is or was. Or at least you know all about that situation."

Itsuki said nothing. He remained still as a statue carved from ice.

"If I had to guess," I continued, "I'd say you aren't acting alone tonight." My lips quirked. "And I don't just mean you had the help of your demon pet."

Once again, Itsuki didn't reply—but then, slowly, he raised his hands. Clapped them together once, twice, three times. The sound vanished into the abyss as my voice had, muffled like he'd clapped underwater. Even if I'd knocked him off balance before, Itsuki had calmed again, shoulders relaxing as his hands struck together, lips curving back into his serene smile.

"You have not ceased to impress me yet, Yukimura-san," he said, hands falling to his sides. "Tell me. How did you guess?"

"You said 'we' earlier." (And the fact that I'd seen the anime; I wasn't nearly as smart as he thought I was.) "So..."

"Ah. An unfortunate slip." Regret crossed his features, but only for a moment. "And the rest?"

"Not hard to figure out." Another shrug. "Amanuma told me he an adult friend who was asking him, um… foreboding questions, I guess you could say. I told him adults shouldn't need help from children, and then Amanuma said he cut that friend loose. And now you're here, an adult, asking about Amanuma." I held up my fingers, two on each hand. Bumped them together. Put two down on one hand and four up on the other, addition made visible. "Two plus two makes a very suspicious four," I said, waggling my digits.

Itsuki's brows lifted. "I see."

I crossed my arms over my chest again. "So let me guess. You're upset I warned him away from you, or your friend, or whomever. Right?"

"Right," he agreed. "It should interest you to know that found you through the use of pronoun analysis and basic math, as well."

My heart stuttered. "Oh?"

"Yes. When Amanuma… how did you put it?" He fought to keep a smile off his face. "When he 'dumped' my friend, Amanuma quoted someone. A 'she.' And you are the only 'she' he appears to know, aside from the mother who pays him no attention. Thus, you were not hard to find."

His expression—beatific, almost, and certainly serene—didn't falter even an iota at the mention of Amanuma's absentee mother. His lack of reaction grated on me, but only for a moment. Sensui had been the one to befriend Amanuma. Perhaps Itsuki didn't have any feelings about the boy at all, even if he'd literally abducted me (I won't cater to his euphemisms in my internal monologue, thank you) to ask questions about him. His poker face made it hard to say for sure. No matter how he felt about Amanuma, however, it was clear how I felt about the boy. Now how to word it? How to put it, both without lying and endangering myself as well as evading the inconvenient truth?

I squared my shoulders, dragging a breath of stale, demon-stomach air through my nose. "And now we're here," I said.

"And now we're here," said Itsuki.

"And you want to know why I befriended Amanuma," I said.

Itsuki's tone remained neutral—pleasant, even—when he said, "Yes."

"Well. I'm pretty sure my answer is going to disappoint you."

His brow knit, forest green hooding golden eyes. "Oh?"

"I did it because he was lonely." A shrug, one I hoped looked both natural and dismissive. "He was a lonely kid and he stuck to us like glue. At first I wasn't even sure I wanted him around. He grew on me, though, after a while." I studied Itsuki, looking for confirmation in his Mona Lisa smile. "You know he was at my party tonight, right?"

He didn't leave me to wonder, admitting "I'm aware" with an absent nod.

"Cool. Well, he gets along well with the rest of my friends. I just need to find him some buddies his own age, and he'll be all set." I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck before flapping my hands like embarrassed wings. "My friends call me an albatross, you know. Wide wings. I like to shelter people under them if they'll let me. So when he approached us looking like a kicked puppy—well. How could I not take him under these wings, right?"

I stopped flapping, hands falling to my sides when Itsuki didn't reply. His eyes traced the path of my hands as they descended. I couldn't tell if he believed a word I'd said, of course. He was too bland, too purposefully passive to give much away—not that there was much to see beyond what I'd said. Every last word out of my mouth had been true. Half-truths? Sure, but truths nonetheless. If Itsuki sensed deception, it was only in part, as I had told not a single lie. I had indeed let Amanuma shelter under my wingspan because he was lonely and I wanted to fight that loneliness. The whole "disrupt Sensui's plan" bit was just a side-effect. Would Itsuki even believe me if I told him how I knew about Sensui? "Hey, I'm from another world and I know about your lover's plans from a manga series aimed at teen boys" only sounded so plausible…

Itsuki did not lift his eyes from my hands (and his expression did not move even a fraction) when he asked, lips barely moving: "You befriended him… out of kindness?"

"I'd look pretty arrogant if I agreed with that." Another shrug, this one genuine; I meant what I'd said. "Yusuke befriended Amanuma first. I just tagged along. If that is or isn't kindness… well. Who's to say?"

His amber gaze flickered up to mine. "You understand why this is hard to believe," he said—a statement, not a question.

But I would not be intimidated. I did not let our eye contact waver when I said, "No, Itsuki-san. I don't."

And thus we stared at one another like a pair of cowboys facing off at either end of a boomtown's main street. Hands twitching toward the guns on our belts, air thrumming with tension as we sized one another up, each daring the other to talk next, strike first, really get this gunfight started. "Giddy up, buckaroo," I thought to myself—but when Itsuki's chin dipped, those hooded eyes glimmering under the shadow of his brow, my heart faltered in my chest.

Itsuki was pleasant enough to talk to. He liked movies. He could quip with the best of them. He wasn't calling names or intimidating me physically—but it would do me well to remember he was a demon (and a powerful one, at that) while I was just a girl.

A girl stuck inside his pet's impenetrable stomach.

A girl whose friends couldn't save her from this elusive place.

A girl who was entirely dependent on the whims of this demon for respite.

Sweat beaded on my temple. Rolled down my cheek in a cool trickle. Coursed over my neck and beneath the collar of my dress, catching on the chain of the necklace I wore beneath it. The metal rasped against my skin, scents of metal and salt collecting in my nose like sand in a glass.

"I don't sense deceit from you." Itsuki's words, murmured oh so quietly, nevertheless made me startle. For a second my heart lifted, but it dropped just as fast when he added, "But I sense evasion. As if you hold something close to your chest." He gave me the look my mother gave me when I hid a pleasant surprise from her. "You're not the only one who can read people, Yukimura-san."

I put on my very best look of skepticism. "Evasion? I'm not evading." Placed a hand on my chest. "Go ahead: Ask me anything."

And so Itsuki did. "What do you know of former Spirit Detectives?" he said, wasting not a moment. "Those who came before your friend Yusuke?"

"I've met Kuroko Sanada."

Itsuki stared. "And?"

"And, nothing." Another of my dismissive shrugs, one that hid the frantic beating of my evasive heart. "Ayame—that's the lady from Spirit World I talk to sometimes, as I'm sure you've figured out." I waited for his nod of confirmation before I continued. "Anyway. Ayame hasn't mentioned anyone but Sanada." Another truth. Ayame had never mentioned Sensui, even when I asked.

A beat passed. Itsuki said, "I see."

If he believed me, he wasn't going to tell me so. He did not say anything else and his face gave away nothing whatsoever. I should know. I stared at it for a lot longer than I want to admit before giving up with a sigh.

"Cryptic." I tutted. "Are all demons cryptic, or do I just keep meeting all the most oblique examples?"

At that he smiled. "Now, now," he said. "Do you really want me to ruin the surprise of that discovery?"

"What about ruining the surprise of what's going on behind the scenes?" I countered. "You've talked about Spirit Detectives, you're asking about them… why the interest? Do you and the 'we' you mentioned have something against Detectives?"

Itsuki stilled again, as he had before. For a brief moment I thought perhaps I'd said too much, had hinted that I knew more than I was saying—but, no. That was a logical leap to make. Itsuki was just being secretive again.

"I mean, the one I deal with is annoying as hell, so I wouldn't blame you too much." I grinned to show I was joking, trying to lighten the mood. "Mine's young, though. Still growing. Cut him some slack if he pisses you off, I guess."

My ploy worked. "Fear not: My friends and I have no intention of running afoul of the current Detective," Itsuki said—and despite his pleasant smile, it did not escape my notice that he'd said 'friends,' plural. All seven of Sensui, or Sensui and the recruited psychics? I couldn't be sure. Itsuki continued: "Meeting the newest Detective would be most inconvenient at this stage."

I tried not to look too eager. "This stage of…?"

But my attempt at fishing only earned me a smile full of scolding. "Come now, Yukimura. I'm not some villain from the movies who will spill their plans to the hero on a whim. You should know better than that."

"Heh. Worth a shot." But I looked at him with new and different interest. His language was, as always, telling. "Do you consider yourself a villain, Itsuki-san?"

"Everyone is the hero of their own story," came his smooth reply.

"Now who's evading?"

I thought, perhaps, we'd verbally spar again, my taunt dragging from him more of that easy amiability I found rather comforting—but Itsuki didn't move or speak. He gave me a level stare, empty and inscrutable, for a moment that turned to two, then three, before there came a faint ripple in the space behind his suspended body. Images of broken buildings and cracked concrete distorted like a heat mirage before a line of black sliced the air. No sooner had it appeared than did it expand, blooming outward like a flower of pure, undulating dark. Into this Itsuki sank, disappearing into the pit and out of sight, and then with the same abruptness it had appeared the darkness faded, leaving behind the unbroken view of the Uraotoko's ceaseless innards.

Itsuki's laugh, soft as a fist encased in velvet, stroked the air at my back, tracing up my nape like the tip of a cold hand. I spun with a curse, heart hammering against my diaphragm like a punch to the unwary gut. He stood only a few feet away, head tilted nearly at a right angle, one lock of thick green hair resting silken against his pale cheek.

"Yes," he said. "I do like you, after all." His eyes softened like he beheld the face of someone dear. "And I like what you will one day become even more."

"What I'll one day…?" I said, repeating him the only thing of which I felt capable.

He nodded. "Truth be told, Keiko…" He paused. "May I call you Keiko?"

It was all I could do to stammer a stunned, "S-sure."

"Wonderful." His smile blossomed. "Truth be told, I was told to stay away from you. But my friends can be so shortsighted at times, even in all their brilliance. They cast aside that which no longer benefits them without a backward glance."

"You mean Amanuma?" I managed to ask.

"Yes." Gold eyes darkened with odd melancholy. "In some ways, their willingness to sacrifice that which they deem unnecessary makes me wonder just how expendable I am. It makes me wonder if they care not because they value me, but because they value what I can give them." The melancholy faded, smile beatific once again. "But the mystery of that—the pure tension of it? The television dramas I enjoy cannot capture even an iota of that exquisite tension. And I will admit that nothing entrances me more."

"Doesn't exactly sound healthy," I somehow found the nerve to jest.

"As the most delicious things so often are." Itsuki continued to study my face, smile widening all the more. "Yes. Yes. I think my friends should meet you."

He meant Sensui. No doubt about that, no lack of clarity as far as this looming doom was concerned, nope, nooo, that was exactly what he meant, and I got the sense that by "friends" he might really mean all seven personalities Sensui himself. At this stage in canon, Elder Toguro couldn't have joined forced with Sensui quite yet, so unless he'd already amassed a few followers even before their Territories manifested… yeah, Itsuki probably meant Sensui and his many selves, a prospect of which I was well and truly fucking terrified. Itsuki gave me the wiggins, sure, but Sensui himself? That was death incarnate, and something told me he'd see straight through any games I tried to play. I should convince Itsuki it was a bad idea, try to put him off of making introductions, try to—

Unless.

It was unlikely Sensui would come here, into the stomach of the Uraotoko. Too informal a meeting place. Too undignified, maybe. This was Itsuki's bag, not Sensui's, and besides: Itsuki had implied Sensui didn't know I was here. Maybe Itsuki would take me to Sensui, and not the other way around.

Which meant Itsuki would escort me out of this prison.

Which meant my friends might be able to find me.

Which meant my half-baked plan to be saved, which hinged on persuading Itsuki to release me, might actually come to fruition… even if it meant facing Sensui himself.

It was tempting. It was so tempting to go along with Itsuki. But it was also dangerous, so freakin' dangerous to meet Sensui alone, so early along in the flow of canon, and with not a single one of my friends around for backup.

But if I stayed here, I'd end up like that demon. I'd end up a bleached skull and some scattered bones, alone and forgotten in the belly of shadow monster. And that was a fate I just couldn't stomach, if you'll pardon the atrocious pun—which left me with only one option, and one that I had to take.

This was, as Itsuki would say, an offer I couldn't refuse.

"Would you like to meet my friends, Keiko?" Itsuki said as I dragged my gaze to his. He showed his teeth when he smiled, drifting close enough for me to smell the oil on his leather jacket. "Meet my friends, and perhaps satisfy the curiosity I see building behind your eyes?"

I wasn't sure if he was just teasing or if my eyes really did reflect such curiosity. My heart beat too fast for me to think about it much. I licked my dry lips and threw back my head, hyperconscious of my pulse thrumming in the roof of my mouth and in the lines of my strained neck, of Itsuki's eyes on mine and the satisfaction I could already see brewing within them.

He knew my answer even before I voiced it.

"Well. What the hell? Why not?" I said, and I gave Itsuki a roguish grin that complemented the caution I'd just chucked into the wind. "Girl can never have too many friends, right?"

Itsuki seemed to agree, because he smiled back—and behind him another portal swirled darkly into being.


NOTES:

And we're back. Posting this up super early since I'm travelling all weekend and have a road trip tomorrow. :)

Chapter 76. Wait. What does that remind me of? Oh yeah: "Seventy-six trombones hit the counterpoint, while a hundred and ten coronets played the bridge; to the rhythm of—" Ahem. Sorry. Burst into song, there. But Extra Special Brownie Points to whosoever should recognize those lyrics offhand. Any guesses? Eh? EH? EEEEHHH?

All Broadway references aside, some of you 100% guessed what was happening as soon as you read about the shadow monster at the end of chapter 75. The Uraotoko in the anime/manga is a short-lived bit character, making him easy to forget. I forgot about for a long while, truth be told, and only remembered just in time for the New Year's Story Arc. I was happy to get to use him for dramatic effect, lol.

During my hiatus I started writing and posting a fic for the Pokémon fandom (a Nuzlocke fanfic of a SoulSilver run I'm doing). Has SI elements but is veeeery different than LC. I'd love if you checked it out, if that's your thing!

SO MANY ENORMOUS THANKS for all of your support while I went on hiatus! Many of you checked in via PM, Tumblr, or reviews while I was away, and I can't tell you how much it meant to me to know you were waiting for when I got back. This is dedicated to all of you lovely folks: xenocanaan, Laina Inverse, Bergholt Stuttley Johnson, Kaiya Azure, Lady Ellesmere, Anya Kristen, The Adorable Muffin, wennifer-lynn, mayacompany, Miyuki Kurama, tatewaki2000, SweetFoxGirlk13, Kirie Mitsuru, Domitia Ivory, DiCuore Alissa, zubhanwc3, Marian, Just 2 Dream of You, C S Stars, Sky65, EdenMae, 431101134, MetroNeko, Zynis, Xalmtris, SterlingBee, MissIdeophobia, FreeRainbowsWithLove, shen0, yofa, NightlyKill, Pelawen Night, rikku92, Blaze1662001, Tsuki Lolita, rya fire1, alicemisuzu, QueenofCloud, Yakiitori, ahyeon, kittenfood, inferno of darkness, mira, SlytherclawQueen, Arkeisios, CaelynM, Spice4fun, BabyBashinBrooke, kittendeer, Meno Melissa, Uzu the Talented Uzumaki, general zargon, crossyourteez, Viviene001, Moma Nina, Dark Rose Charm, Anime Please Good, Fairy Cactus, Lady Ellesmere, The Mysterious Mr. Anonymous, crossforces, YourHomeGirlJen, Turtle Kid the Woolgatherer, Skywaters, cocobyrd87, and ten guests!