Warnings: None

Notes: Oh my stars there will be TYPOS in this one, but I'm rushing to get this out before midnight so fuck it, I'll fix them tomorrow or whenever, I have to get up at 8 and drive 7 hours to get home. GOODNIGHT.


Lucky Child

Chapter 78:

"Mini-boss, Misnamed"


At the edge of the rooftop, Sailor V wrapped her arm around my waist and jumped. Her powerful leap ripped us from solid ground and sent us flying into space, over onto the roof of the next building where we sprinted to the another edge and made another mad dive in oblivion. Roof to roof, building to building, it seemed we'd crossed the whole of Tokyo (if that's even where we were) by the time V jumped down to ground level—an wild freefall that had me screaming absolute bloody murder. My shriek of fright didn't last long, however. We slammed onto the ground so hard the pavement cracked under V's red heels, and then V grabbed my hand and pulled me through an alley at a full tilt sprint before I could really get to wailing. The running halted abruptly, too, when we came upon a metal door festooned with inappropriate graffiti; in front of this V stopped, reaching into the pocket of her skirt to pull a handful of small metal crescent moons. What they were clicked in my head when she knelt by the door and stuck them to the corners of it: portal-stickers, or whatever she called them, her devices that could turn any door into a TARDIS portal and transport us from one place to the next. True to my prediction, when she wrenched the door open it showed not the inside of a skyscraper or warehouse, but rather a view of a supermarket aisle—specifically the frozen section.

"C'mon," V urged before shoving me through. When I stepped over the threshold, a blast of frigid air washed over my bare arms. We stumbled from a freezer of frozen foods that had somehow turned partially into an alleyway, and when V shut the door behind us, the view through the door's pane changed from dingy concrete to brightly colored TV dinners as light glinted off the glass, colors burring and then shifting like an odd trick of even odder light.

V left me no time to marvel, however. She grabbed my hand, and once again we started running.

We ran through the dimly lit grocery store and into the storage area in back, then out a door (one V kicked down with a distinct clatter of shattered lock) and into yet another alley. At her behest we ran down this alley, cold winter air slicing through my lungs, and through another of her portals. This one led into somebody's house. I tried not to think about whose as we vaulted over a couch and tracked dirt through the kitchen, out a back door into a yard, where V transformed the door of a shed into a portal to an empty construction yard. The door we came out of there was set in a freestanding wall not yet incorporated into the construction site. No one was there, thank my lucky stars, because I'm sure we would've confused the shit out of anyone who saw us come out that door. We were a blonde superhero and a girl missing a shoe wearing a wilted flower in her hair; an odd picture, to be sure. I wondered if V even thought about that as she led the way to a big backhoe rig and started sticking moons on its cockpit door. Probably not. She was quite single-minded in crisis, not dwelling on the dumb shit I couldn't get out of my brain.

"Ready," V said. She stepped back from the door and heaved it open, revealing the rise of a distant, snow-capped mountain inside the construction vehicle. "Let's go."

I marched forward—but with a hiss of pain I stopped, snatching my right foot off the gravelly ground and lifting my knee up nearly to my chest. Foot on fire, I reached under it and felt around until my fingers encountered the smooth but jagged jut of a piece of glass sticking from my heel. That's what I got for running around without a shoe, I guess. V's eyes widened behind her mask; she started to say something, but I shook my head and grabbed the glass. Deep inhale, no time for panic, I yanked the glass out on the air of my exhalation, pain lancing up my leg like a bolt of lightning in the bone.

Suffice it to say, V had to help my clamber up the ladder into the cockpit of the backhoe, because my legs had started shaking too badly to do it alone.

V's portal had taken us to a train depot in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. A big concrete slab sat beside a line of train tracks that stretched east and west until they disappeared into the dark. Snowy mountains loomed high above in all directions, evergreens swaying dark against their stark white sides. A tiny ticket booth, front window dim under the light of the distant moon, gleamed silver as we stepped out of the door beside it and onto the depot's breadth. A bench under an awning sat beside the booth; I collapsed onto it, head lolling over the backrest as air rasped from my chest. It was far colder here than it had been in the city, but I felt too hot with adrenaline and running to truly feel it. Pain wrapped my foot in heat, too, another barrier against the airy cold. I shut my eyes and opened them, squeezing tears back into their dry depths. Above me, affixed to the underside of the bench's shelter, hung a light. Moths flapped around it in circles, though I don't know how they survived in this bitter cold.

"Where are we?" I said when I caught my breath.

"North of Tokyo. Very north of Tokyo." V had pulled what looked like a tiny tablet computer from her pocket; she studied it, finger swiping over the screen as flickering blue light cast shadows over her face. "Leaving a trail they can't follow."

I shut my eyes. "They won't come after us."

"… what?" said V.

"They aren't going to chase us," I repeated.

"How do you…?"

"I just do." I cracked an eye and smiled at her, in lieu of proper explanations I did not want to give. "Take me home, OK?"

V nodded. Pulled more moon-stickers from her pocket and began applying them to the ticket booth's door. Her heels clicked over the concrete ground, echoing in the snowy, mountainous hush suffusing the still and quiet air.

"It's just as well," V muttered as she worked. "I doubt they can sense me, anyway."

I slid forward in my seat. "Oh?"

"I can't sense them, or at least I can't sense them well. I assume the same works in reverse." She stood and brushed off her skirt, mouth turned down in a troubled frown. "Their energy is on a completely different wavelength—like trying to detect shadows with sonar."

"Makes sense since you're two different power types, I guess. Two different canons probably don't play by the same rules." I considered that a moment, replaying the last hour in my head. "But your shield burned Itsuki, so that's something."

V nodded, eyes roving over the mountains. I started to get up, expecting her to open the depot door and get us running again, but she held out a hand and shook her head. Like myriad fireflies swimming from the darkness, golden light flickered and then blossomed into being around her body, a bright flash that faded to reveal the form of Minato beneath. Hair hung long and loose down his back, V's bright red ribbon vanishing in the wake of transformation. Minato gathered the hair and began to braid it, fingers methodical and quick around the strands.

"What took you so long, anyway?" I said, mostly joking. "They damn near almost made me watch Chapter Black."

"I was busy." Blue eyes cut my way. "Why me?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you call for me, and not your canon friends?"

I shrugged. "They're not ready for Sensui."

"And I am?" Minato said.

"Maybe. But either way, you were my best bet."

"Why's that?"

"Kurama can shield himself from prying eyes. Itsuki is strong—as strong, at least, but more than likely even stronger. I figured he could do the same. I didn't think even Hiei could find me if Itsuki didn't want me to be found," I said. I fished my necklace from my dress, the heart-shaped pendant blinking steady red. "But I highly doubted they thought to shield from GPS, or whatever this uses, so…"

His mouth curled in a small smile. "Heh. Quick thinking." Minato stopped braiding and held out a hand. "Give me that."

He took the necklace and, using his fingernail, made a twisting motion on the back of it. The pulsing light darkened and stopped, magical object a mundane gold pendant once more—only Minato didn't hand it over to me again. He stared at it, gold chain descending in a swinging arc from the sides of his palm, eyes luminous against his pale skin and glimmering hair.

"Why did you pause back there?" he said.

I jumped a little, startled by his whispered words.

"You stopped to look back, atop the skyscraper." His eyes moved from the pendant to my face, searching. "Why?"

I wanted to answer Minato. Really, I did. But the words lodged in my throat like food not properly swallowed, and I remained quiet. Still, my silence must have been telling, because Minato's eyes narrowed.

"He spoke to you, didn't he," Minato said—and it was not a question, despite the phrasing.

I laughed, looking down at my feet. Blood smeared the pavement; my laughter died. "Am I that easy to read?" I said.

"No. Yes. Sometimes." Minato shook his head. "You said they weren't chasing us. I deduced they must have communicated that intention to you now. My only question now is what, exactly, did Itsuki say to you?"

Again, and to my immense shame, I hesitated. It wasn't that I didn't trust Minato with that information—far from it. In truth, I didn't trust myself with what Itsuki had said to me atop the skyscraper, nor did I trust my ability to convey the nuances of all I'd had to promise him.

I needed time. Time to think, and to process, and to move past the horror hanging over my head like a sword suspended on a fraying thread.

Luckily Minato understood, or at least had the patience to wait for me to get the nerve to speak. He began to braid his hair again, securing it at the tip with a hair tie from his pocket.

"You're tired," he said. "We'll talk later."

I nodded, grateful, as he pulled scissors from his pocket and sawed through his hair. It hung in a severe sweep along the length of his jaw, sort of a bob style—like that one guy from Princess Jellyfish. In that moment I couldn't think of his name. Still, the comparison stood, and Minato put away the severed hair and his scissors with swift assurance.

"But later, Captain, we will have to trade war stories." He eyed me over critically. "I can see you have a long one to tell. That much is easy to read." And he looked at my foot again. "But for now, we need to get you home and get that wound cleaned."

I was so grateful, it was all I could do to nod and walk with him through the portal.

We came out in an alley, which I was starting to suspect was Minato's absolute favorite setting for a portal-door entrance. I'd seen enough alleys that night for a lifetime, and as we stepped from the mountain train depot to a city alley (the faint rush and occasional honk of a car horn giving away our new locale) I staggered. It wasn't the pain in my heel or the soreness in my back—rather, it was the transition from pure but bitter cold to slightly warmer air that stank of tar and trash that had me reeling. Exhaling icy air and breathing in merely cold air did something to my chest, tightened with the surprise of transition, sapping strength from my bones and placing exhaustion in my muscles. I listed sideways against the brick of the alley wall, one hand braced on the side of the adjacent building to keep myself upright.

Minato appeared at my side. "You're exhausted," he observed.

"Yeah. No shit." I breathed a heavy sigh and passed my fingers through my hair. "Been up since dawn, and it's nearly dawn again. Plus all that running, the adrenaline." A bitter smile crossed my mouth, my eyes burning like I'd smeared them with pepper oil. "I'm about to collapse."

"I see," said Minato. He started to speak, then stopped, and then he gave a curt nod. "Please excuse me for this."

I frowned. "Excuse you for—hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Minato, with the efficiency of a programmed machine, had scooped me up like a sack of grain, one knee behind my back and the other beneath my knees. Even though he was smaller than me, my weight didn't seem to bother him at all, his voice clear and without strain when he said, "You're tired and bleeding. I'm carrying you."

"Not like this, you're not!" I sputtered.

He frowned. "Why?"

"It's undignified!" I kicked my heels, resisting the urge to put an arm around his neck for balance. "I'm no princess!"

"Of course not," he said, "but you are injured and exhausted. This is the most logical solution to our current predicament."

"Minato—!"

He looked down at me with a scowl that bordered on a glare—and dammit, this was not the time to notice he had great cheekbones and that this longer haircut really suited him. Minato, dammit all to hell, was cute, and in a few years I got the sense he'd grow into his enormous eyes and turn into quite the heartbreaker. My cheeks flushed of their own accord; I looked down and away with a frustrated growl.

"I can walk on my toes and not hurt myself." I wriggled, trying to get him to drop me. "So put me down and I'll—"

"DROP HER, ASSHOLE, OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL MAKE YOU A PAVEMENT STAIN SO FAST YOUR HEAD'LL SPIN!"

Minato and I flinched as one, heads swiveling toward the end of the alley and the source of that brash command. My jaw dropped, of course, because not twenty feet away, silhouette unmistakable where it loomed in the alley mouth, stood one Urameshi Yusuke—and he stood with hand raised, one finger pointed straight at us.

"Shit," I said.

"Fuck," Minato concurred under his breath.

Yusuke's arm tensed, and then from above dropped a figure. It fell from the sky and landed next to Yusuke, rising to its full but unimpressive height like a striking snake, and then from the gloom beyond appeared two more figures wreathed in shadow—all dim, but I knew them at once.

Yusuke. Hiei. Kuwabara. Kurama.

Oh. Well.

This wasn't good.

"I said drop her!" Yusuke repeated.

"Calm down." I had a hard time seeing Yusuke's face since he was backlit by a light beyond the mouth of the alley, but I tried to meet his eyes just the same. "He's a friend, Yusuke."

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see a receipt." Was it just me, or could I see the blue light building in his fingertip, faint but visible in the dark? "Put her down or I swear I'll—"

I swore again and bucked, telling Minato to let me go. He did so, making a sound of protest as I installed myself between him and Yusuke like a shield. Yusuke drew in an audible breath as I held out my arms, blocking his shot on Minato with my own body.

"Stop being prickly," I said. I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. "He's a friend, dumbass."

Yusuke ground his teeth. "Keiko—!"

"What, you gonna shoot me, too?" I said.

He made a noise like he wanted to strangle me but couldn't because there were too many witness. "If I have to, maybe!" he snarled.

"Well, tough shit, because I won't allow it." I raised a hand and pointed my very harmless finger at him. "We do not point dangerous fingers at friends in this household, dammit!"

Yusuke swore so colorfully I had to resist the urge to reprimand him, but after a minute, his hand dropped to his side like a very annoyed stone. However, at his side I saw Hiei step forward, cutting toward us through the alley at a fast clip. I started to greet him, but reflective red eyes flashed in the dark, Jagan glowing brilliant violet, and he blurred from view. At first I thought he'd just flitted away, made sure I was really back and then went on his merry way, but a thump came from behind me and Minato let out a muffled gasp. Hiei had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back against the wall, glaring up at Minato (who was only slightly taller than the fire demon) with an expression of livid scrutiny.

Minato, meanwhile, appeared thoroughly unbothered by this, staring at Hiei as impassively as one stares at a weather report.

"You too, Hiei?!" I hobbled forward and grabbed onto his elbow, trying to drag him away. "Stop it!"

Brilliant scarlet flashed again. "Meigo—"

"He saved my life, dammit!" I hollered. "Let him go!"

Hiei, like Yusuke, clearly did not want to listen to me, and it took far longer than I would've liked for him to finally release Minato's collar and stalk off. I wheeled on the others as soon as he got out of striking distance, glaring at Kurama and Kuwabara in turn.

"Either of you want to take a shot? Make this four for four?" I said. "Because I really hate repeating myself and if you haven't gotten the picture by now, then—"

Kuwabara dashed toward me. I gave a small half-scream, thinking he was going to take a shot at Minato, too, but instead he ignored Minato completed and grabbed my shoulders in his massive, shaking hands. I started, taken aback at the tremor cascading down his wrists, as he looked me up and down with wide, desperate eyes. "I don't give a crap about him—are you OK?" Kuwabara said "Where the heck have you been, Keiko?!"

The concern in his voice, that undercurrent of panic too strong to be denied, had tears pricking at my exhausted eyes. I mopped my face and hung my head. "Long story. Even longer night," I told him. My smile probably looked harrowed, but I offered it, anyway. "But I'm all right."

"Are you certain of that?" came Kurama's smooth inquiry. He stepped to Kuwabara's side, looking me over as Kuwabara had—only his eyes remained cool, distant, and assessing. "You're bleeding."

"Yeah, I know." I lifted my foot off the ground. "I lost my shoe and stepped on some glass, and—"

"No. Not from your foot." He waved a hand in a circle. "I think your back is…"

My brow knit with confusion. I craned my head over my shoulder. My eyes widened; I spun like a dog chasing its tail, trying to get a good look at the utter carnage that had become of my dress. The back of my outfit had been cut to ribbons, blood oozing from a dozen shallow cuts I'd ceased to feel in the winter's cold. As soon as I saw them, however, they flared to life with stinging pain—pain I had mistaken for general soreness after running and jumping and evading monsters. That's adrenaline for you, I guess, but I wasn't bothered so much by the dozens of scraps no doubt caused by the exploding window at Itsuki's place. No, there was a much direr issue at hand, and upon realizing it I let out a shocked shriek.

"Oh my god, my dress!" I warbled. "We bought it special for tonight and it's ruined! My mom is gonna kill me." I spun again, trying to determine if my dress could be salvaged, and in the process I stepped awkwardly on my injured foot; my knee buckled, but the pain came secondary to my other source of foot-based agony. Staring in horror at my feet, I said, "And oh my god, my shoe, I lost my shoe, what am I going to tell my parents?!"

Hiei gave a grunt of disgust. "You disappeared from existence and you're worried about your footwear?"

Beside him, Yusuke muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "typical."

"Yes, I'm worried about my damn shoe," I retorted. "It was a really nice shoe, and I—wait." I blinked at Hiei. "I disappeared from what?"

"You disappeared, Keiko." Kuwabara's voice sounded absurdly small issuing from his large frame; he put his hands on my shoulders again, as if to assure himself I was really there. "None of us could sense you at all. Even Hiei—and Kurama said your scent went cold—" He swallowed, words thick with emotion. "We thought you might be dead."

On that last word, his voice actually cracked. He rubbed at his nose, turning his face away for a minute, and in my throat all attempts at language died a sudden death. I mean, obviously IO thought they'd be worried about where I'd gone and would have trouble sensing or finding me, but—but to think they thought I was dead, or didn't exist, or whatever? Holy shit.

"Oh my god." My hand covered my mouth. "Oh my god. That's. Wow."

Kuwabara just nodded in return. After all, there wasn't much else to be said.

Not that Yusuke got the memo. He swaggered on up and brushed Kuwabara aside, arms crossing over his chest as he glared at me nose to nose. "So tell us. Where the hell were you, exactly? Why are you all bloody and where's your shoe?" He glanced over my shoulder. "And who the heck is blondie over there?"

Kurama said, "His name is Minato, and he is one of Keiko's fellow aikido students."

Yusuke did a double take. "Wait. You've met this guy?"

"Once, and only briefly," said Kurama. He studied Minato like he'd study a plant, green eyes distant but undeniably present. "He struck me as a typical human child at the time. Now, however, I am not so sure."

"Huh?" said Kuwabara.

"He didn't balk in the slightest at Hiei's evil eye," Kurama delicately observed.

The bottom fell out of my stomach as I turned to look at Hiei more closely—and, yeah, he wasn't wearing his bandana, Jagan wide open and visible for the world to see. Rapid-fire calculations sparked inside my head, but my obvious play to solve this dilemma (playing dumb, pretending I hadn't seen the eye) wasn't Minato's style. He made no excuses, nor did he provide any explanations as everyone's gazes shifted to him. He got busy brushing off the navy coat he wore over a shirt and tie, and when he noticed he'd become the object of scrutiny, he merely lifted a brow at the world at large.

"And suddenly I'm popular," he said, adopting a polite smile. "But you're chasing the wrong rabbit, I'm afraid. I have no obligation to reveal to you my secrets."

It was almost uncanny, the looks of displeasure that crossed the faces of Yusuke and all his companions, but I was in no mood to laugh. "How do you know Keiko?" Yusuke said.

Minato waved at Kurama. "He just said—"

"Aikido, like Kurama said," I cut in. "We study under the same Sensei. But can we leave the interrogation for the morning? I'm about to fall over."

And this was true, even if I was more concerned with getting Minato out of here than I was finding my way into a cozy bed… for the most part, anyway. I stumbled to the side, walking carefully on my toes, and sat on a pile of deconstructed cardboard boxes with all the heaviness of a KOed prizefighter hitting the mat. My eyes and foot and back all burned, and with a sigh my head dropped into my freezing hands. The cold really set in, then, shivers igniting in my muscles with the insistence of a hive of bees.

'What time is it, anyway?" I grumbled.

"6 AM," Kurama supplied. "The sun rises in half an hour or so."

"Shit. And I'm supposed to go to the temple with Mom and Dad."

Yusuke snorted. "Fat chance of that. You look like a zombie."

"Can it, Yusuke."

"Make me."

I lifted a hand toward him, knowing it was covered in grime and dried blood. "I'll smear blood on your face if you're not careful."

"Enough jokes!"

My head jerked up. Everyone, Minato included, had turned to stare at Hiei after his outburst. He stood with hands in pockets, feet spread beneath him, teeth bared as he shot daggers from his eyes and tried to spear me with his red gaze.

"You faded from existence like a memory forgotten, and you trade jokes with the Detective?" he continued. "Where were you, Meigo? I demand you tell me, now!"

His anger blazed hot enough to warm the alley, cold air heating in time with Hiei's frustration. I lifted my hands up, trying to placate him as I said, "I will, Hiei. I will tell you. I promise I'll tell you everything. Just—I don't know where to start." My voice started to shake, breaths rattling down my throat like swallowed coins. "I don't know what to say. I need to sleep. Please, just let me sleep and I'll tell you everything tomorrow." I swallowed; tried to smile; failed. "Please?"

Kuwabara rushed to soothe, because that is who he is. He knelt beside me and put a hand on my knee, smile warm and comforting. "It's OK, Keiko. You've been through hell so you can have whatever you need." The warmth turned to hard determination when he looked over his shoulder at the others. "We can wait to ask question till later. Right, guys?"

Everyone exchanged a glance. It lasted for approximately ten seconds, and then Yusuke, Hiei, and Kurama sighed in unison.

"Fine," Yusuke grumbled. "Sleep first, questions later." At that a yawn broke through his peeved expression; he lifted his arms, stretching. "I'm dog tired, too."

"As am I," Kurama said, though of course he looked perfect and I couldn't tell if he was actually tired or just being nice. "She's back, and she's safe." His eyes traveled to me, as if promising to follow through on his next words. "I suppose that matters most, and the details can wait until her wounds have been tended to."

"Great. Wonderful. Lovely," I said. To Minato I added, "How far are we from my place?"

"A block or so."

"Good." I reached out. "Help me up."

He came forward to help, though natural Kuwabara grabbed my hands and helped me stand, too. I stumbled a little, legs wobbly, but Minato managed to snake an arm around my waist and hold me up. I looped my arm around his neck; he latched onto that wrist, supporting me in a fireman's carry past my friends and out of the alley.

The rest of them watched in tense silence, the low murmur of their malcontented and confused voices following us down the street, but I ignored them. Walking was hard enough as it was without Yusuke's kvetching dogging my steps—and besides. Getting home had turned into an enormous mess, and I needed time to think and sort this out. They knew Minato wasn't exactly normal. But what did they suspect him of? And how—

I yawned so hard my eyes watered.

Oh, lordy. I was in no shape to strategize, was I?

Luckily no one tried to interrogate me as we walked home. I'd never been so happy to see my parents' ramen shop, eyes watering for an entirely different reason as we entered its warm and dark interior. But eager to get to the haven of my bedroom as I was, I paused at the doorway, unwilling or perhaps unable to make myself move forward.

In the shadows near the stares, I swear I saw something move.

"What is it?" said Minato.

I jumped at the sound of his voice, and the shadows stopped their swimming. I'd been seeing things, I guessed, and to cover my unease I waggled my bad foot. "I'm gonna get blood everywhere."

We shared a look. I knew what he wanted, and I rolled my eyes.

"Fine." I rolled my eyes again. "I swear to Christ you were a knight in your past life."

He shrugged. "I don't think they make armor my size," he said, and he picked me up the way he had the first time. This time I let myself wrap my arms around his neck, keeping my body anchored to him as he toed off his outdoor shoes and began to cross the restaurant.

"H-hey!" said Kuwabara. "What are you doing?"

"Preserving the cleanliness of the floor," Minato said, and as he reached the stairs and began to climb them, I heard Kuwabara whisper: "How does he know where her room is, anyway?"

That was yet another thing I'd have to come up with an excuse for, but just then, I couldn't have cared less about explaining Minato's familiarity with my home. I let him cart me up the stairs and kick open my bedroom door, all but falling out of his grip as soon as we got near my bed. I fell face first onto the mattress and hugged my favorite pillow to my chest with a sigh, leaving my filthy feet to dangle off the edge of the bed. It was like being an exhausted little kid again, because the minute my head hit that pillow, I felt sleep begin to descend like a heavy curtain across my eyes.

But then there came a gasp from the doorway, and Botan said my name.

"Yeah," said Yusuke (I didn't bother to look and see where he was). "She's back."

I think I heard Minato move aside, but Botan's feet slapping across the floor drowned the sound very nearly out. Soft hands alit on my back as Botan babbled, "Keiko, Keiko, I was so worried—!"

I cracked an eye, head angled enough for me to see the barest glimpse of her tear-strekaed face. Blue hair frizzled from her ponytail like static dyed blue. "Hi, Botan," I mumbled against the pillow. "Do you know how to contact Ayame?"

She blinked at me. "Ayame? Why?"

"We'll need her tomorrow."

"Whatever for?"

I shook my head, or at least I tried to. I might have just flopped a little. "Can't. Too tired," I said. "But call her. Please."

Some distant part of me (the part of me still scurrying to do damage control) feared she might resist, but instead she came through in a clutch and was my personal MVP. Good old Botan. Team player to the core. Every fiber of my sleepy self sent her thank-you-vibes as Botan patted my shoulder (carefully avoiding any wounds), gave a brisk and determined nod, and turned away with hands on her hips. Voices murmuring near the door stopped talking, then, but maybe I was imagining it.

"Well, you heard her, everyone," Botan declared. "She's got sleeping to do, and we're not helping by standing around in here. We're all tired, too, and we could use some rest after tonight's excitement." I could just imagine her winking and giving everyone a chipper thumbs up. "Let's hit the hay and figure out the rest tomorrow. What do you say, hmm?"

If there were any dissenters, I didn't hear them dissent, because the murmur of voices dissolved like salt into hot water as sleep stole over me. Botan could take care of everything. She'd put everyone to bed and make them leave me alone, to sleep and to regroup. Yeah. Botan. I loved Botan so much. What a great friend. I…

As I drifted off, one final snippet of conversation floated through the impending haze of my dreams.

"Your hair," Kurama said.

Someone gave a wordless hum of inquiry in return.

"It was much shorter last time I saw you," Kurama said, "and it hasn't been long since we met."

"I'm blessed, I suppose," Minato said.

"Blessed, and evasive," returned Kurama. "If you—"

Worry cut through the mist of fatigue. Minato was alone with my friends, but… he was smart. He was capable. He could get out of this in one piece without me.

Right?

I didn't have time to worry overmuch, because before I could even begin to wonder how he would get himself out of this, sleep dragged me inexorably into dreaming.


A sob cut the darkness. A sniffle pierced the gloom. A single light shone from above, casting golden highlights on dusky skin and inky hair. Her body shook, wracked with sobs that tasted of salt and despair.

"Do you think she'll come back?" she cried, voice muffled against his shoulder. "Oh, oh, but do you think she'll ever come back here again?"

"I do," he said as he stroked her cheek. "She'll be back, and sooner than you think."

Her chest hitched, a sob catching in her lungs like thorns. "But how can you be sure?" she said.

He didn't look at her, then, although he wore a smile intended just for her. Hands on her hair, stroking and soothing and warm, his eyes lifted. Travelled the room as they searched.

They searched, and then they found.

His eyes met mine in a flash of gold, arresting and aware, pinning me in place as surely as any spear.

"She'll come back," he assured his companion. His teeth gleamed under the good of his growing smile, and then he smiled a smile meant only and completely for me.

"After all," he said, "she promised."

And then I was awake, and I saw that vicious smile no more.


Light streamed through my window, warm again my cool face. A groan escaped my mouth as my lashes fluttered on my cheek—and then the quality of the light, bright and streaming from straight above, sent panic skittering through my chest. I sat up and snatched my alarm clock off my desk, sheets and a comforter tumbling about my waist. The clock read noon, and although my parents always let me sleep in on New Year's Day, they never let me sleep this late because we had the temple to go to and we always ate lunch together first. Cursing, I swung my legs out of bed, but as soon as they slapped against the floor I yanked my right foot up again, hissing in pain from between my clenched teeth.

Clean, white bandages encircled my foot from my toes to my calf, bright and sterile in the afternoon light.

I remembered everything, then.

Sleep had reset me for a minute, sponging away the anxieties of the day before—though it could do little for the physical pains, nor anything for the sudden flood of "what ifs" and "what happeneds" coursing through my brain. I flopped back onto my bed with a sigh, belatedly realizing someone had changed me from my ruined dress and into a billowing pajama top. Hopefully Botan had been responsible for that. And speaking of Botan, where was she? And where were the others? My room was quite empty, door shut and chair by my desk unoccupied. Where the others asleep in the other room, or had they gone home?

Perhaps the note lying on my desk could give me a clue.

I spotted it as I returned my alarm clock to its place on my desk. A small sheet of paper, pale yellow with scalloped edges, sat beneath one of my pens. I didn't recognize the stationary, nor did I recognize the neat, even handwriting in which a message had been inscribed (in English, for whatever reason).

The note read as follows:

"I told them I was in the area after a New Year's party when I came upon you in your bedraggled state, and that I offered to walk you home shortly before they arrived.

Tread lightly, Captain. They're curious, and even friends are dangerous when asking questions.

I leave the rest to you.

Destroy this note."

Minato had not signed his message, but I had no doubt he'd been the one to pen it. Short and to the point, containing a warning… but it was brazen of him to leave a message out in the open where anyone could read it. And how had he even snuck it in here? I'd have to ask him when I saw him next, but the note was a good start. At least now my story could be straight with Minato's before anyone tried asking questions.

Questions.

Ones I wasn't at all prepared to answer, because just what the fucking hell was I going to tell people about last night?

I'd been able to leverage being tired and hurt (if you can even call "collapsing uncontrollably" an intentional con) to buy myself some time to prepare my explanation, but I'd fallen asleep too soon to really plan my attack. There had been barely time, if any at all, between escaping Itsuki and reuniting with my friends to think about what I'd experienced, giving me mere seconds to prepare myself for the interrogation that was surely about to come. The angle of "be so tired you can't talk" was both a lucky break and a blessing. Now, though, I didn't have that strategy to fall back on, and I needed to get my shit together fast. Speaking of: Shit, shit, where was everybody? How much time did I have to think something up and get my story straight? I'd asked Botan to get Ayame, because in my sleepy miasma I'd been able to concoct the barest bit of plan involving her. Ayame was basically a stalling tactic. Asking for her might buy me a little time since surely it would take a while for Ayame to show, but in the meantime how was I going to handle—?

On cue, someone knocked on my door.

Acting purely on reflex, I crumbled Minato's note into a ball, popped it into my mouth, and swallowed it with a vague prayer to the universe that the ink he'd used was nontoxic. Someone said my name, and as I choked down the paper I managed to grind out a strangled, "Come in!"

Yusuke opened the door, Kurama following a step behind, and true to their marching order it was Yusuke who came barreling in without preamble. "So you gonna tell us what happened, or nah?" he said. He flopped down onto the chair by my desk, sitting in it backwards to stare at me with his chin pillowed on the backrest.

"Uh. No?" I said.

A vein pulsed in his forehead. "Excuse me?"

"I—I don't want to say anything without Ayame here. Has Botan gotten in touch with her?"

"How should I know?" Yusuke whined. "And why the hell does Ayame need to be here, anyway?"

"Because I think she'll have answers," I said, and when Yusuke rolled his eyes I added: "And to be completely honest, I don't want to have to explain everything more than once."

It was a haphazard excuse to keep from talking, waiting for Ayame, but as soon as I said that I didn't want to tell the story more than once… well. That was actually sort of true. Getting eaten by that monster had been terrifying; having to describe that ad nauseam sounded like torture. Perhaps this showed in my face, because Kurama settled onto the foot of my bed with a frown.

"Are you all right?" he said. He reached for my knee beneath the comforter covering it. "You look pale."

"No," I said, opting for honesty in that moment. "It, it was just a hard night and—oh god." My eyes bugged out of my skull at a new realization, one that sent chills skating up my back like icy razor blades. "Oh, oh god, oh my god—!"

Yusuke leaped out of the way as I slid from my bed and grabbed at the phone on my desk, hauling the cradle into my lap so I could dial a number with shaking hands. The phone rang twice before someone picked up, and at the sound of a small, cheery voice a measure of relief swept through me—but it didn't last long.

"Hey, kid," I said, desperately keeping my voice even. "Doing OK this morning? Just calling to make sure you made it home safe last night."

"Yeah, Kaito walked me home. He was nice!" said Amanuma, chirping like a bird greeting the dawn. "We're going to go to the arcade next Sunday. I'm really glad we met! It's nice to have a friend who's good at games, y'know?"

His happy and enthusiastic babbling made me sink boneless into bed again. "Nice. I'm glad you'll get to hang out."

"Me too—but are you OK?"

"Who, me?" I said with a bright laugh. "Of course I'm fine; don't be silly! But sorry to cut this short, gotta run, Mom and Dad are making me go to the temple with them today and, yeah, talk to you soon, buh-bye!"

"Uh. OK? But Keiko—"

I hung up before he could say anything else, sagging once again into the pillows—but Yusuke cleared his throat, and at the sound I became uncomnfortably aware of Yusuke and Kurama's eyes on me. I sat up and composed myself, smoothing the bedclothes over my lap with a delicate cough.

Yusuke wasn't fooled by my innocent act. "What the heck was that about?" he demanded. "And was that Amanuma? Why'd you call him?"

"Um. I'll explain soon." I fingered the edge of my blanket without meeting his eyes. "We really, really need to talk to Ayame, though."

I think Yusuke was basically just done with me at that point. He threw his hands in the air with an eye roll so pronounced I feared he'd give himself a concussion. "Ugh, fine! Be annoying and cryptic," he said, shoving out of his chair and heading for the door. "I'll go bug Botan about it, though who knows where the heck she's run off to…"

He shut the door behind him with perhaps more force than necessary, but I didn't have the heart to chastise him. Instead I breathed a sigh of relief, because I'd breathe a hell of a lot easier without Yusuke breathing down my neck.

"And to think," Kurama mused. "Typically I'm the one accused of being cryptic."

He wore a smile, though it looked thin to me, like perhaps its edges might fray and tear at any moment. I ducked my chin with a wry laugh. "Heh. Seems I'm taking a leaf out of your book." My grin went crooked. "Pun intended."

He scoffed at the pun, but his smile thickened some. "I suppose it's nice to hear I'm an influence, at the very least." His head cocked to the side, garnet hair falling silken against his neck. "We're alone."

My heart skipped the tiniest of beats at that. As is my custom, I covered the awkwardness with humor. "Clearly," I said, brow lifting at the very empty room. "If you're trying to show off your powers of observation, try a bit harder."

"I'm not posturing," he said. "You're holding back from the others. Is there anything you can tell me now that we're alone?"

He waited, silent, as I mulled it over. Kurama was not as impatient as Yusuke, though as moment bled into moment, the smile faded from his lips. He eyed me with undisguised intensity, as if trying to read my thoughts in every pull of my mouth, every twitch of my eye. I was tempted to tell Kurama he was likely off the hook regarding Amanuma. The kid hadn't been recruited, Sensui was going to leave him alone… but I'd called in that fit of panic because I didn't trust Itsuki not to menace Amanuma in some way.

Itsuki's parting words to me, after all, had concerned Amanuma directly. There was no way to know how deeply the kid might or might not become involved in light of this. Thus, I could not give Kurama hope, in the event he had to kill the child, after all.

But what, then, could I even tell him?

I licked my lips. Took a deep breath. Said, every word a carefully chosen skirmish: "Things are happening out of order. It's… confusing. And weird. And I worry telling you too much now could throw things even deeper into disarray later—or end them before they can even begin."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

I wet my lips again, nervous. "What happened to me last night involved something you are meant to face later—much later. When you're stronger than you are now. I can't let you anywhere near it until you're ready."

"You worry for my strength?" One brow shot up, skeptical. "I assure you, Kei, that I can take care of—"

"You aren't strong enough," I said.

Kurama shook his head. "Kei—"

"No. Listen to me."

I spoke with no malice, no heat—just raw, cold logic, voice bereft of emotion and bias alike. Kurama fell quite quiet at the sound, staring at me from the foot of my bed in undisguised surprise.

"I'm not insulting you," I said. "I'm not being mean. I'm being honest when I say that neither you nor the others are strong enough yet, to face what I faced last night." A metaphor swam to the surface, thoughts of Amanuma's beloved video games coloring my perception. "It would be like sending a level one party against the game's final boss. You have some levels to grind before then, some quests to complete before you get there, some mini-bosses that will prepare you for the final fight. But if you went charging into the dragon's den today…"

I could not suppress the shudder that rippled through me, then. Kurama watched, alarm turning his eyes the color of cool and brittle jade.

"And you faced this alone?" he murmured.

"Yes." Another shudder I could not quash. "The threat wasn't even at full strength. It wasn't ready for me. I avoided antagonizing it—but even so, I barely escaped with my sanity intact."

The shudder turned into a tremble. I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned forward, head near my knees as I curled very nearly into a shaking ball. The tape—Itsuki had gotten so close to playing Chapter Black, had toyed with me as a cat toys with a mouse. The horrors of that tape were stuff of horrific, nightmarish legend. What would have become of me had I seen even a moment of its terrors? Would I have lost myself? Would I have become something, someone else? Abandoned my friends against all that I believe and tried to end the world at Sensui's side? What would have happened had V not arrived exactly when she did? What would—?

Kurama reached for me. He reached for my ankle beneath the covers with a murmur of my name, sliding closer across the breadth of my bed.

Before he could make contact, I slipped out from under his hand, out of bed, and away.

"Look away," I told him.

I trusted Kurama not to watch as I opened my closet and stepped inside. I put on shorts and changed into a fresh shirt, carefully keeping on my toes to avoid my injured foot. I didn't need other clothes, really. The ones I'd been changed into smelled of detergent. Still, I changed my clothes, hoping that the changes to my outside my change how I felt inside, too.

And to cover the fact I'd been about to cry.

Kurama didn't need to know either of those things, however.

I finished changing and turned to find him where I'd left him, face aimed carefully at the window. Platinum light from the noonday sun turned his hair the color of fresh blood, his eyes the hue of new shoots of spring. He looked so out of place in my bedroom, with its record player and rock posters and pink comforter and John Wayne flipping the bird, that I almost laughed.

I didn't, though.

I cleared my throat, and couldn't maintain eye contact when he looked my way.

"Anyway," I said. "Sorry I can't tell you more." I shrugged. "I just—"

"You have no reason to apologize."

My head jerked up from the floor. Kurama laced his fingers together, cupping them around his knee as his chin lifted high and proud.

"I've said before that to interfere in fickle fate is to court disaster," Kurama told me. "I am a proud demon, but I am by no means a demon who underestimates his opponents. Time is my ally, as I believe it is yours. I will face this threat when I am ready, and no sooner." The barest of smiles crossed his lips. "I trust you will help me determine when that day comes."

My throat thickened; I looked away, pressing my fingers into my eye sockets. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I heard him hesitate, that breath drawn in and held as he decided if he wanted to speak. In the end he decided yes, and said: "Truth be told, Kei, when you vanished, I wondered if you had left this world much the same way you had appeared in it: without warning, without explanation, and with a thunderclap of enigma."

My hand dropped from my eyes. Stars and halos of light danced on my distorted vision, a million tiny sparkles wreathing Kurama in multicolored flame. The lights faded as swiftly as they'd appeared, but Kurama's expression—one of grim uncertainty, haggard determination, and an odd light I couldn't place—didn't falter.

"We wondered if we would ever see you again." He paused. Admitted: "I wondered if I would ever see you again."

My feet moved of their own accord, pushing me to sit next to him on the bed. "Kurama," I said, because I wasn't capable of much else.

He smiled, albeit tightly. "It isn't in my nature to display bald sentiment. Therefore, I will be brief." Kurama turned slightly in my direction. "I am glad you've returned, Kei. Lunch periods at school would be far less enjoyable if you stopped attending them."

My mouth quirked. "I wouldn't leave you alone with Kaito."

"How very thoughtful of you," said Kurama.

"What can I say? I'm a great friend."

"Yes. You are."

My eyes cut sideways at those murmured words. Kurama didn't flinch away, solemn as we traded a long, silent moment of… communion, maybe. I don't have the words for it. I was still thinking about what he'd said, about fearing never seeing me again—but he didn't need to fear that. Not getting to say goodbye, living in uncertainty, it would be horrible, but I'd never let it happen. Didn't he know that I'd never leave them, or him, hanging lost upon uncertainty? Didn't he know I'd never disappear into the night without telling him goodbye? He should know. He should know I'd never do that to him, and that no goodbyes would ever come without forewarning.

He should know. So I should tell him.

I didn't think about it too hard, covering his hand with mine, but I did it. His eyes widened the tiniest fraction as I opened my mouth to speak, to assure him I'd never allow such a nightmare to come to pass, only good dreams allowed in this household—but before I could speak, my bedroom door swung open. Our hands came apart as Kuwabara walked in carrying a tray; I smoothed my hair behind my ears, deep breath filling my chest until it nearly hurt.

Bad timing. Bad, bad timing, Kuwabara.

Still, the scent of food wafted off the tray on his hand, and in response my stomach loosed a ferocious growl. "That for me?" I said, trying to cover the horrific sound, but Kurama's eyes twinkled and I know he overheard.

"Yeah, it is!" Kuwabara said. He placed the tray on my desk and beamed. "Just some leftovers from last night but I think New Year's leftovers are always better the next day, y'know?"

I did know. I let him usher my off the bed and into the chair, where I began to shovel down food in a way I'd normally consider impolite, but to hell with it, I was hungry and this was an enjoyable way to cover the awkward moment that preceded it.

"We told your mom and dad you stepped on glass and probably shouldn't go to the temple today, so they're already there, which means we've got the house to ourselves to talk," Kuwabara said as he settled onto the bed beside Kurama. His small eyes went as wide as they could go, swimming with worry and a plea for understanding. "What happened, Keiko? Where did you go last night?"

"It's… complicated." I drank a mouthful of soup, not looking at him. "I don't want to tell you yet, if that's OK."

"Huh?" Kuwabara said. "But why not?"

"Yusuke isn't here. Neither are Botan and Ayame." I put the soup away to send him a look of apologetic regret. "Sorry, Kuwabara, but I want to tell all of you at once. I don't want to have to tell it again and again. It's just…" I shook my head. "It's not a fun story to tell."

Kuwabara appeared crestfallen by this news, but Kurama's eyes took on a knowing sheen, and he gave me a subtle nod—a nod that said he knew exactly what I was up to, delaying the telling of my story. 'Time is our ally,' indeed.

Kuwabara saw us looking at each other, I think. His head turned between Kurama and I a few times before he slouched and muttered, "You didn't tell Kurama anything either while you were chatting, did you?"

"I have been left quite completely in the dark, as have you," Kurama said.

Kuwabara looked at the fox demon askance, studying him from the corner of his eye, but Kurama's pleasant smile didn't waver. Eventually Kuwabara seemed to think Kurama passed some sort of test, because he shook himself faced me again. "Y'know, I get it. It can be tough to talk about not-fun-stuff a lot. So you just take it easy, and I'll be here to listen whenever you're ready. OK?"

His sincerity filled me with warm fuzzies. "Thanks, Kuwabara. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome." His hands knitted together atop his knees, fingers fidgeting as he slouched even further down. "But, um. I gotta know one thing."

"What is it?"

He stared at the floor. Gulped. Asked with cheeks that had caught flame: "Who was that boy who—?"

He meant Minato, but he never quite got that far, because there came a flash of blue from the doorway. Kuwabara bit back his words with the face of someone who had just tried to swallow a watermelon without chewing, cheeks puffed and red as Botan bounced into the room with a cheerily chirped "Hello, Keiko!"

Yusuke followed behind her with hands behind his head. "Found this one being creepy outside a hospital for some reason. But I got her like you asked, Grandma."

"I wasn't being creepy!" Botan protested. She put her hands on my shoulders and peered over my head at my food with a grin. "Good to see you up and at 'em after the night you had."

"Don't talk like you know anything about it, Botan," Yusuke groused. He flopped to the floor and leaned against the inside of my bedroom door, one leg propped lazily atop the other—a posture belied by the baleful look his sent my way. "You feel like talkin' yet?"

"Nope." To Botan I said, "Hear from Ayame?"

"Yes. I've gotten in touch with her using certain reaper methods I'd rather not divulge." She blanched and gave a nervous laugh. "It's… honestly better no one hears about it."

"… did you send messages through dead people?" I whispered, unable to help myself.

Too bad Botan just shook her head. "Trust me, it's best if you don't know. But I sent a message and I received a response in short order. Ayame is nothing if not prompt. She'll meet you this afternoon at this café." From her pocket she pulled a scrap of paper, which she handed to me. "Was a bit difficult to find something still open on New Year's Day, but leave it to Ayame to find a place. I peeked at the menu and it looks divine. I'll be sure to check it out once this is all said and done."

Yusuke groaned. "Not another café! I swear, ever since she came to stay in Human World, Botan's been obsessed with cafes. And movies, and painting her nails, and—"

"I want the full human experience, Yusuke!" Botan said, rounding on him with hands on hips. "That isn't so much to ask!"

"It is when it's my nails you want to paint!"

"Botan, are you not coming with us?" Kuwabara asked before she and Yusuke could really get into it.

"I'm afraid not." Her shoulders sagged, face falling just a bit. "It's best I don't see Ayame, I think. Even making this contact was risky."

Kurama nodded. "A wise choice, considering your current predicament."

She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. "Agreed. I miss her dearly, of course, but… anyway." A smart shake of her head, ponytail flying like a powder blue flag. "Keiko, I should properly heal your feet, see to your back. Can I help you down the hall? I'll draw up a hot bath…"

Normally I'd balk at the idea of help with a bath, but I didn't protest as Botan kicked Yusuke away from my door and helped me hobble down the hall. A bath sounded good, better even than Botan knew, because bathrooms—where your thoughts and words could echo loudly off the tile—were the best places to think in all the world. And I definitely had a lot to think about. I'm happy to report that by the time Botan treated my feet and left me alone to bathe, the beginnings of a plan had budded in my head.

I just hoped that this plan of mine would… well. Go as planned, I guess.


We sat in a booth at the back of the café, hidden from view around a secluded corner near the busboy's station. Great place to talk, but too close to the doors to the kitchen to be popular with regulars—AKA, exactly what we wanted for our odd conversation with the head of the underworld's grim reapers. The entire group (minus Botan and the taciturn Hiei, of course) occupied the table, Ayame sitting in a chair at its head in her austere black kimono. She'd gotten a few stars when she walked in, but the fancy café hosted a few people in their New Year's Day best, so she blended in better than she would have any other day of the year. Ayame held a mug of tea in her pale hands and took an uncertain sip as it cooled. A small smile crossed her face afterward, like she'd just had the most pleasant surprise.

Maybe she had. Maybe she didn't eat much, being a grim reaper. Who was I to know?

But that wasn't why we were here.

"Who were the Spirit Detectives before Yusuke?" I said.

Ayame put down her cup, so gently it barely clicked against the saucer, but the careful motion told me everything I needed to know: The question had caught her off guard, and now her walls were up. Yusuke, Kurama, and Kuwabara all looked at me in confusion at the question; Ayame merely patted her lips with a napkin and folded her hands primly atop the table. I'd waited until we'd received our drinks orders before speaking. I'd need something to drink by the time this was through, I was sure of it.

"Why, may I ask, do you want to know?" Ayame said. When I didn't reply right away, still watching for her reaction, she leaned almost imperceptibly in my direction. "I was under the impression you had things to tell me, not the other way around. Botan conveyed precious little regarding the nature of this meeting."

I took a deep breath. Ayame watched with the same calculating gaze I'd turned on her, and beside me, I felt Kurama tense. Kuwabara leaned in with hands balled into fists on the table, stare intent on my face. Yusuke just lounged in his seat looking like he didn't want to be there—but that changed when I finally spoke.

"Last night I was eaten by a demon called a Uraotoko," I said, "and for several hours, my friends thought I'd ceased to exist."

Yusuke bolted upright; in unison he and Kuwabara yodeled: "WHAT?!"

Kurama nearly dropped his teacup, catching it again just before it hit the table. "Beg pardon?" he said with subdued astonishment.

"It looks like an enormous living shadow in the shape of a humanoid silhouette, but with a corporeal mouth and eyes," I said, still addressing Ayame—she who had reacted with the smallest of gasps, one hand delicately covering her red lips. "It came into my home and ate me alive."

"What?! No way!" Yusuke stammered. He'd risen almost to his feet and seemed in danger of knocking the table over. "What the hell?"

"That's crazy, Keiko!" Kuwabara said. His look of horror faded into one of understanding after a moment, fingers tapping on his chin in thought. "Though now I see why you didn't want to have to explain that more than once."

"Yes," Kurama murmured. "Your reticence on this matter has suddenly become quite clear."

"There's a method to my madness," I said with a shrug. Taking another deep breath, I told them what I'd decided to tell them, rehearsed words rolling off my tongue like a memorized script (because that's basically what they were): "I sat in the creature's stomach for hours. I assume my friends couldn't sense me while I remained in that prison. There were… remains, in its stomach, of other creatures it had consumed. If I hadn't gotten out, I'm sure I would have starved to death and died."

Yusuke looked green. Kuwabara clapped a hand over his mouth, words muffled when he said, "That's awful, Keiko."

"Yeah, Grandma, are you even OK?" Yusuke added. He slapped back into his seat, staring at me as if fearing I'd catch fire any moment. "Because getting eaten by a freakin' shadow monster doesn't sound like something you should be OK with."

"I'm fine." Another shrug (but the memory of falling, of the creature's horrible mouth, filled my head to bursting, and I had to take a long drink of my tea to center myself again). "I got out, after all."

"And how did you manage to accomplish such a feat?" Ayame asked. Her hand had come away from her mouth, but her eyes gleamed with horrified comprehension. Suddenly this request for a meeting probably made a lot of sense to her.

"I got out by relying on someone else to spring me loose." My features twisted in displeasure. "I didn't know how to free myself physically, but the beast's master decided I was worth sparing after a convincing conversation."

"I see." She picked up her mug of tea again. "And this beast's master would be…?"

"A demon who goes by the name Itsuki." I kept speaking without pause, but I made note of how Ayame's mug stopped midway through its journey to her mouth when I dropped the demon's name. I continued, "Green hair, golden eyes. Handsome, well dressed. But very cold, and honestly, quite disturbed. He made multiple vague references to Spirit World and Spirit Detectives. He has either tangled with one or both before, or knows someone who has."

Ayame's hands still didn't move. Steam from her drink floated over her face, distorting her features the barest, most disorienting bit.

"Well, he's never tangled with me," Yusuke said. He slapped a fist against his palm with a growl. "And if he ever does, I'm gonna—!"

Kurama cut in before Yusuke could promise violence. "What did he want with you, Kei?"

"Information, mostly." I'd ordered bubble tea, which I sipped before once against addressing Ayame. "Does Spirit World often offer details of protection to spiritually unaware humans?"

She frowned, small furrows carved between her thin brows. "Not typically, no. Why?"

"Could they be persuaded to make an exception?" I asked.

"If the situation calls for it."

I nodded. "Then I would like for you to consider giving a protection detail to a boy named Amanuma Tsukihito."

That declaration earned me a round of double-takes and confused stares from the boys, of course; Ayame remained as stoic as ever, though her frown did deepen just a tad. "Amanuma?" Kuwabara asked. "Why?"

"Yeah, Keiko," said Yusuke. "What's this all got to do with Amanuma?" His eyes narrowed. "Does this have something to do with why you called him in a panic earlier?"

"Yup," I said. "Turns out Amanuma is the catalyst for everything that happened last night."

"He's what?!"

Yusuke and Kuwabara were shocked, obviously, once again speaking in startled unison. Kurama, however, shot me a sharp look askance. He knew what his future held concerning the kid, after all, and his wily fox brain wasn't about to let this go and refrain from making theories.

"Itsuki and an ally he refused to name had designs for Amanuma, apparently," I said, toying with the plastic lid on my bubble tea. "He did not reveal these designs to me, but apparently our friendship with Amanuma got in the way of their plans. He investigated us, realized I knew the current Spirit Detective, and kidnapped me to determine why we befriended the kid." To Ayame in particular I said, "I think he believed Spirit World was onto him and was interfering on purpose."

"But why was us making friends with the kid a problem?" said Kuwabara.

"You remember how lonely Amanuma was when we met him?" I said.

"Well. Yeah?" He scratched his cheek. "But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything," I said. "I think they aimed to take advantage of his state of mind to manipulate him into… I don't know what, exactly, but it can't have been good." A mix of truths and lies, half-facts and total fabrications, but I'd practiced them all enough to sound convincing. "Our interference made Amanuma less desperate for friends, including those who might do him ill. And my interference in particular caused Amanuma to reject one of Itsuki's allies outright."

"Your interference?" Ayame asked.

"I gave him advice. I, uh… I do that sometimes."

Yusuke rolled his eyes. "Understatement. Keiko lives to tell people how to live their lives."

My jaw dropped. "Hey!"

"What?" He dodged when I flicked my sodden straw wrapper at him. "Don't be like that! You know it's true!"

"Maybe, but you don't have to say it!" I put my bruised ego aside, then, only partially because people were watching and Kurama had started laughing behind his hand at my expense. I tossed my hair and pointedly ignored Yusuke when I said, "In any case. Amanuma referenced me directly, so this Itsuki blame me most for Amanuma splitting from him and his allies." Spreading my hands flat on the table, I leaned forward. "So, Ayame. I'll ask again. Who are the former Spirit Detectives, and did any of them ever run afoul of a demon who fits Itsuki's description? Or, alternatively, has Spirit World ever run afoul of this demon? Are the current and former Detectives in danger?"

"Oh jeez. Am I?!" Yusuke said. At my glare he corrected himself. "I mean, are we?"

"I don't know," I said. "Ayame?"

She remained silent for a time despite my inquiry, however, taking several long, slow sips of her rapidly cooling tea. We watched her in silence, Yusuke growing more and more disgruntled by the second, but eventually she set her cup back down and folded her hands across her lap.

"What else can you tell me, Keiko?" she said.

The fact that she hadn't answered my questions didn't bother me. I hadn't really expected an answer, anyway. Yusuke, however, bristled at the obvious change in subject, but Kurama shook his head and Yusuke settled back down again.

"Not much, I'm afraid," I said. "Although Itsuki interrogated me about Amanuma, he revealed little of his own goals or motivations. If this demon is a villain, he didn't fall for the whole 'movie villain monologues to the hero' thing, and he even referenced that trope as something he'd avoid." I mimed closing my mouth like a zippered purse. "Guy kept a tight lip," I said, flicking away an imaginary key.

"I see." Ayame paused to take another drink of tea. "How did you escape?"

"Like I said," I said. "He let me go."

But Ayame was too sharp for my evasive answer. "Not from the demon's stomach," she said. "How did you escape Itsuki himself, after you were freed from your first prison?"

Drat, but she was sharp. Even though she and I had recently gotten to be better buddies, I still needed to watch myself around her. Thus, I merely shrugged in response and kept my answer vague. "I ran when the timing was right," I said. "That's all."

Ayame's gaze darkened. "Is it?"

"I mean, yeah?" I shrugged again. "It's not like a regular human like me could've fought him off or something. Eventually a friend of mine happened to find me, and he helped me go the rest of the way home." I picked up my drink and used it to gesture, as if conducting an invisible choir. "All in all, Ayame… I got very, very lucky."

"You are extraordinarily well named," she remarked.

"Thank you."

The grim reaper studied me a minute, like she thought I might say more, but I did not. I sucked down a few tapioca balls and chewed them until she looked away and rose, standing with a small bow of goodbye. "Very well. I will take this to Koenma immediately."

"And Amanuma?"

"We will watch over him." Another bow as relief filled my throat to bursting. Ayame said, "The less you know, the better."

"And of Keiko?"

Everyone looked at Kurama, then, in the wake of this unexpected question. Shutters closed behind Ayame's eyes as she turned on her heel to face him. Kurama did not back down or flinch away, however. He faced her dark eyes head on, boldly meeting her stare with an unforgiving look of his own. I started to speak, to say his name in question, but he raised his hand and gave a subtle shake of his head.

"You have a question for me, Kurama?" Ayame said.

"Yes." He stood, too, expression polite but as firm as a slab of granite. "Keiko was targeted by a demon. Will you not afford her your protection, too?"

"I don't need—" I tried to protest, but this time Ayame shook her head.

"She runs with demons and a Spirit Detective. What more could we offer?" She smiled, but the curve of her lips looked like a honed blade. "Or are you not interested in protecting your friend?"

Kurama didn't rise to her insult. "I will safeguard her as best I'm able, of that you should have no doubt," he said, tone neutral but unyielding. "However, this is a demon of unknown origin and with unknown goals. It would be foolish not to afford her additional protection—don't you agree?"

Man, he was almost as good as a southern grandmother at packing his words with double meanings. If she disagreed with him, she's inadvertently agree with his claim she was a fool. But Ayame, clever as she was with double-speak herself, saw that tactic coming from a mile off. She chuckled, chin lowering demurely toward her chest.

"I will bring your concerns to Koenma as well." Dark eyes traveled to me, then. "Keiko has proven herself a valuable ally. We would not see her taken from us."

Kurama appeared unconvinced, and Yusuke and Kuwabara had no clue in hell how to respond to this oddly polite battle of wills—but I barely paid any of them heed. I only had eyes for Ayame in that moment. We stared at each other, speaking without words, the sincerity in her expression evident but indirect beneath the shrouding influence of her decorous expression. Eventually I gave her the briefest of nods, which she returned before turning from me and walking with short, quick steps out of the bright café.

Perhaps no one else had seen it but me, but as soon as I'd said Itsuki's name, her entire body language had changed. I had no doubt Ayame knew precisely who Itsuki was, and that despite Kurama's claims to the contrary, the reaper was well aware of the dire circumstances underlying my apparent kidnapped.

If memory served, Ayame had been Sensui's handler like Botan had been Yusuke's… and Sensui had been running with a certain green-haired demon long before his tenure as Spirit Detective came to its abrupt end. I just hoped I'd given her enough information to seem convincing in my story, but that I'd left enough unsaid not to derail the plot.

I hadn't trusted myself to make up a convincing lie. The boy would have sniffed it out in time, and if Spirit World hadn't been spying on our group during my abduction, surely eventually they would have gotten wind of it and come to me with questions. No, I'd decided that afternoon in the bath. Lying outright was not the best tactic, here.

Best to tell all truth, but to tell it slant, and hope I'd done the right thing.


Foot freshly healed by Botan's white magic, I had no trouble keeping up with the rest the group as we walked home from the café—and speaking of Botan, she appeared not long after we left, manifesting out of the downtown New Year's Day crowd like one of the ghosts she so often escorted to the afterlife. Breathlessly she walked ahead of us, but backwards, peppering our group with questions and demands for a recap. Lucky for me Kuwabara and Yusuke took the lead, filling her in with the story I didn't have the heart to repeat. In fact, I tuned most of the conversation out, eyes downcast as we traversed the crowds and made our way toward home. Kuwabara and Kurama flanked my either side, a pair of red-headed bodyguards I was fairly certain I wouldn't be able to shake for the next few weeks.

They'd stuck close to my side ever since we left the café, and I predicted I'd travel with a protective retinue for some weeks yet, now that the truth had come out.

Not that I minded. As Yusuke and Botan walked ahead, bickering and bantering as was their custom, I thought it might be nice to have someone nearby as I came down off the anxiety of meeting Itsuki. Night had begun to fall while we talked to Ayame, shadows lengthening as the sun went down, and in the depths of every one I kept thinking I spotted watching eyes or grinning mouths, though they always ended up being a bit of litter or a swirl in the pavement instead of the features of a lurking demon. How long would I be looking over my shoulder, afraid of every bit of darkness that fell across my path—

Kurama's hand closed around my elbow. Kuwabara stopped walking with a grunt of question. I looked up to find a crowd gathering ahead of us on the packed sidewalk, ringing a shopfront like perhaps something amazing waited behind its front window.

But then there came a crash, followed by a series of shrieks, and I got the sense there wasn't some killer sale about to go down, after all.

The members of our group exchanged a look or three, and then we walked in a knot to join the rest of the crowd. "Get back, get back!" someone was yelling, and as we swam through the onlookers to see the rest of the shopfront, I caught a glimpse of a few men in official-looking reflective vests and hardhats erecting caution tape around the front of a store, bright orange clothes peeking through the onlookers like hunting garb through brush.

"What's going on, d'ya think?" Kuwabara said in my ear.

"Not sure," I whispered back.

"Stay back!" one of the men shouted as a passerby got a shade too close. He waved a bright orange cone, the kind people wave when directing traffic. "Nothing to see here, people! Move along; this area is dangerous!"

"Well, that's certainly a set of mixed messages if I've ever heard one," Botan muttered. "Don't tell people there's nothing to see and then say there's something exciting and dangerous!" She squeezed her blue head between two people, then retreated backward toward our friends with a gasp. "Oh, my! What do you think could have done that, do you suppose?"

"Done what?" said Kuwabara.

Botan pointed ahead. "That, that! You have to see it for yourself!"

Kuwabara, human bulldozer that he is, had no trouble gently nudging people aside and clearing a path to the front of the crowd for the rest of us. We edged right up to the barrier of caution tape ringing the storefront, but when something fell to the ground with a cloud of dust and a loud thump, I worried we'd gotten too close, after all. Other people fell back with shrieks of surprise, but Botan gaped at the scene before us and clapped a hand over her mouth without retreating.

"What could have done this?" she said, eyes wide with horror.

Kurama, beside me, shook his head. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it resembles… but, no. There's no way."

"Resembles what, Kurama?" Kuwabara asked.

Kurama hesitated.

Reluctantly, he admitted: "It looks like marks left behind by a fist, almost."

To the right of the store stood a pillar. It, and pillars like it, supported the awning hanging over all the shops on this downtown street. They were made of concrete, covered in tiles polished to a mirror sheen, beautiful and functional at once—only the pillar surrounded by frantic construction workers had been robbed of both these qualities. An enormous, circular hole had been punched clean through the center of the pillar, and below and above the hole it appeared as if entire chunks had been ripped from the structure by enormous hands. Rubble coated the ground with bits of metal and concrete. The pillar buckled and swayed, awning above listing precariously forward; the crowd reacted with a series of screams, scrambling backward and away over the sidewalk in fright. On their tide we were carried away from the odd scene, made to stand near the curb some feet out of harm's way. Botan was babbling something about how we should leave, this was clearly not a safe place—but I barely heard her as I counted us off one by one in my head.

"Hey." My voice rose high above the murmuring of the throng. "Where's Yusuke?"

Everyone paused. Looked around. Looked back to me.

"Yes, Keiko, you're right." Botan planted her hands on her hips, searching the street with her bright eyes. "Where did that boy get off to?"

The tallest member of our clique, Kuwabara craned his head and peered over the mob, eyes screwed up in concentration. His expression cleared after a moment, though, and he lifted a hand top point as he said, "Oh, there he—" Black eyes flew wide open, white showing all the way around his irises. "Wait. That can't—?"

Standing on my tiptoes, I looked in the direction he had pointed. Keiko is short, but through a gap in the crowd I caught sight of a familiar, garish green windbreaker with orange lapels, its wearer standing way across the street on the opposite sidewalk. I started to speak, to call out his name—but then Kuwabara's hand closed around my wrist.

I looked up at him with a frown, but he wasn't looking at me. Rather, he stared at Yusuke, and before my eyes a bead of sweat formed on his temple despite the chilly New Year's Day. Muscles pulsed in his jaw like a visible heartbeat. But why—?

"Kurama." Kuwabara's gravelly voice cut through the din around us like a jackhammer through a pillow. "Kurama, take Botan and Keiko and you get them out of here."

Kurama made no move to obey, however, and merely frowned. "Kuwabara, what are you—?"

"Just do it, man." The sweat on his temple shuddered and fell, streaking down his cheek and over his jaw in a glistening trail, but still his eyes did not waver from Yusuke across the street. "Get them out of here," he growled. "Now!"

Kurama started to protest.

His eyes followed Kuwabara's.

His words died, and his eyes—they narrowed.

"Understood," Kurama said. An arm snaked around my shoulders, and with his other hand he reached for Botan. "Botan. You, too."

But she shied away from him. "Kurama, Kuwabara, what's gotten into you?" she said—and I would have concurred with her and demanded an explanation had the crowd not parted at that exact moment, revealing to me the unfurling tableau on display across the street.

Walking down the sidewalk, away from Yusuke where he stood with fists balled at his sides, I spotted the broadest pair of shoulders I had ever seen. The rose above the rest of the humans at an unnatural height, as obvious and unmissable as a gaping wound or an empty spot on a crowded shelf.

The bottom fell out of my stomach at the sight of them, a deathly drop into unending black.

I had seen him only once before, lying still and motionless upon the ground, but the moment my eyes connected with his olive trench coat and the slick sheen of his black hair—I knew. I knew him the way I seemed to know all canon characters on sight, the truth of his identity ricocheting inside me like a bottle rocket in a cage. Even before Kuwabara murmured his name ("No, no, it can't be him, we killed him, dammit!") I knew who he must be, as easy to recognize as Keiko's reflection in the mirror.

Toguro, the younger—in the flesh at last.

I couldn't keep the gasp inside my chest. It ripped from me as biting as a scream, and then Kurama steered me down the sidewalk with his arm tight around my shoulders. I clung to his hand, grasping tight to his fingers like a girl tossed by waves during a storm, afraid that if I let go (even for a moment) I'd be swept away into the distance and cast into depths of anxiety that could drown.

I'd told Kurama only hours ago that we had a side quest to complete before we faced the final boss. A mini-boss, if you will—only when I'd said that, I thought we had more time before the quest begun. I thought we'd have more time to grind up levels, to advance and to prepare before facing this misnamed mini-boss.

I thought there would be time, dammit.

But I was wrong.

The next battle was upon us—and much like Sensui, this man, too, was a dragon in his own right.

At this stage in the game, there was nothing "mini-boss" about him.


NOTES:

Between migraines and travel (14 hours of driving this weekend, ugh), this had to be late. Necessary evil, plus it's a huge chapter. Hope you liked it. IDK, I'm trying my best, LOL. I just really hope you like this one. Wasn't sure about last week.

Time to sleep and then drive 7 hours, uggghhh.

Many thanks to all those who dropped a review and absolutely made my day: EdenMae, Deamachi, Rikku92, Trinity aellos, C S Stars, Tw2000, MissIdeophobia, Viviene001, Domitia Ivory, Laina Inverse, KannaKyomu, Ash Blade, DiCuore Alissa, Marian, xenocanaan, SterlingBee, Blaze1662001, yofa, MysticWolf71891, LadyEllesmere, Kaiya Azure, Death Angel 457, AnimePleaseGood, Saria19, Mayacompany, general zargon, ahyeon, GuestStarringAs, 431101134, Konohamaya Uzumaki, Dark Rose Charm, Tsarashi, SesshomarusLuvr, RebellAngell21, RedPanda923, Sweetfoxgirl13, Tay, kittengood and two guests.