Warnings: None
Lucky Child
Chapter 82:
"Friendship and Forgiveness"
Pavement, wet from a random gout of late-winter rain, slid precariously beneath my heels as I skidded to a stop in front of the café, breath like fire as it hissed in and out of my heaving lungs. Golden light bled from the windows of the cute French bistro before me, staining the damp pavement the color of wet platinum beneath the street lights. A few passersby stared and whispered behind their hands, but I refused to pay them any mind as I consulted my watch and double-checked the address I'd jotted on a scrap of paper.
Two minutes to spare. Perfect. But I'd be damned if I wasted time celebrating and wound up late. It had taken quite an effort to even get here this close to on time…
I probably would've found the café cute if I hadn't been in such a hurry, not to mention if I hadn't been so frantic in general. I barely had time to admire its brick patio, planters of greenery, and sunny yellow umbrellas before I shoved my way inside. A bell tinkled above my head and a young woman wearing an apron proclaimed a greeting from behind the counter; I paid that little attention, too, instead scanning the dozen or so tables scattered about the warm, airy eatery. Only a few of the tables were occupied, and none by the people I was here to meet. I frowned on reflex, noting the scents of fresh bread and French onion soup as my breathing evened out at last. I was only barely on time, so where the hell were—?
The bell above the door tinkled behind me, and a cold wind brushed across my back.
"Keiko!" That light, smooth voice called my name with undisguised excitement as I turned. "It's wonderful to see you!"
In had walked Itsuki and Sensui—well. Itsuki and Naru, judging by the latter's relaxed hairstyle, kindly smile and creamy turtleneck. Naru clung to Itsuki's arm, eyes furtive once they peeled away from me and started perusing the café with ill-concealed excitement, not to mention nerves. Still, even with Naru distracted as she was, I couldn't help but bristle at the sight of them, eyes locked on Itsuki. Though he wore a smile, bland and nonthreatening, it was impossible not to go on edge. What he'd said to me on the phone, and what he'd said to me the last time we'd met, could not be forgotten with only that bland smile for encouragement.
His smile didn't falter as he looked me over. "You're on time. Good."
The words "That makes one of us" brewed in my mouth like a whirlpool; it took most of my willpower to successfully bite that retort back. He'd been very specific about when and where to meet, consequences for tardiness fully outlined, and yet he'd been late? I, meanwhile, had run my ass off to get here. How was that even fair?
But then again, I hadn't had a choice about any of this. Itsuki held all the power here, and (tonight, at least) he was making all my choices for me.
Making me wonder if he could read minds, at that thought I saw Itsuki's smile widen.
Naru either didn't notice when I bristled further, or she was too distracted by the sight of the café to care. She held Itsuki's arm a little tighter as she said, "I've always wanted to come here in person. I love their food, but I've never…" A light shake of her head, glossy hair swinging beside her chiseled cheeks. "Do you like French cooking, Keiko?"
"… yes." I had in my past life, at least.
Relief crossed her face. "That's wonderful. I was afraid that you…" Another head-shake, accompanied by a hopeful smile. "Never mind. Let's get a table."
And so, we sat, at a table near the back and an old armoire the waiter told us was actually an antique from France. Naru spent a few minutes admiring the patterned china inside the cabinet while we ordered drinks. Itsuki ordered for her, even when it came time to choose our entrees. I had a quiche; Naru got a crepe with vegetables; Itsuki ordered duck, roasted with potatoes. Naru seemed to notice us again when I placed my order, listening to me with a small smile.
"I couldn't help but notice you didn't order meat. Are you a vegetarian, Keiko?" she asked when the waiter left.
It was odd to converse with her the way I was, so casual and friendly despite the horribly not casual and not friendly call that had brought me here. I had to gather myself for a second before finding the nerve to say, "Um, sort of. I'll eat my parents' cooking because I don't want to put them out, but if I have a choice, I go veg."
Naru clapped, steepling her fingers in front of her lips as she grinned. "We have so much in common! I'm a vegetarian most of the time, too. The natural world, the creatures in it—they're so beautiful. I couldn't stand to eat them all the time." She looked at Itsuki askance and nudged his side with her elbow. "Unlike someone I know."
This seemed to be an old, good-natured disagreement between them, if Itsuki's wry smile was any indication. "You know I don't believe in denying myself," he told her, tone undeniably teasing.
"You never have," Naru agreed. She covered her hand with his. "But I value that in you."
The waiter returned, then; Naru snuck her hand back under the table, fiddling with her napkin and not meeting the waiter's eye as he deposited our food and drinks before us. The food looked and smelled delicious, but although the sight of a fragrant quiche would normally set my stomach rumbling, just then I didn't have the ability to do more than pick at my slice and take a few exploratory nibbles. Dutifully I ate, eyes downcast, until Naru put her fork onto the table with a rattle of metal on wood. I looked up to find her staring, expression glum, her own food likewise untouched.
Itsuki frowned. "What's wrong, Naru? Are the crepes…?"
"They're delicious," she said, not taking her eyes off me, and then she swallowed. "Keiko, I have something I need to say."
"Oh. Um?" I put down my fork, too. "OK. I'm all ears."
She took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology."
I blinked. "An apol…?"
For a moment, I wasn't sure I'd heard her right. But Itsuki stiffened, and Naru favored me with and expectant stare, and I realized with a start that I'd heard her correctly, after all. Still, even with this realization I found myself quite unable to speak—because holy shit, right? Of all the things I'd expected when Itsuki called and demanded my presence, or else, this was most certainly not one of them.
Naru waited a beat, but when I merely gaped at her, she took a deep breath. "It was wrong of me to try and make you watch… well." A regretful smile. "You know."
I swallowed, but no words came. Naru looked from my face down to my slice of quiche and then back to me again.
"You and I have many things in common," she said. "That's why I wanted to see you, why I had Itsuki call—because I think we could be very good friends." A resolute nod, shoulders tense under the fluffy sweater covering them; her voice sounded small despite her confidence. "But we can't be friends until I clear the air and make right what I've done wrong."
"… I see," I somehow managed to grate out.
My words, short though they were, seemed to encourage her. "You and I have many things in common," Naru repeated, voice gaining new strength. "But we differ in some very large ways. Watching that tape likely wouldn't have changed your mind. It would only have made you tortured. It would have made you hate me." She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I should have kept your wants in mind when I tried to make you see it. And so, to that end—" Naru raised her eyes to mine, and in them I saw nothing but sincerity. "I am sorry for what I did that night, Keiko, and I promise I will not try to do it again."
And then Naru fell silent, tense but hopeful, and she waited.
To say that her apology was unexpected is probably the biggest understatement of the year, if not the decade. I couldn't help but glance at Itsuki, search his face for some clue as to just what the hell was going on, but he kept his expression carefully placid—a look of serene acceptance belied only by his hand, clenched tight as it was atop the table. Did he approve of Naru's apology? Had he even known she was going to give one to me? His tone on the phone had been nothing if not harsh, demanding, grave—and here Naru was, supplicating and repentant.
But Itsuki said nothing. He did not intervene. He was not intimidating me, nor was he chastising her actions. So…?
"I—I appreciate that," I eventually managed to tell Naru. "Thank you."
Her eyes lit up from the inside out, catching gentle fire in an instant. "Does this mean you forgive me?" she said, voice climbing high in its register. "I would love to be friends, Keiko. Just friends. Not potential allies, but just… friends." Here her smile turned wistful. "I'd like to have another woman to get dinner with. Someone to talk to, to paint nails with. Someone I can share gossip with, maybe."
She picked up her fork again, picking at her food with its tines. I watched in silence as she moved the vegetables spilling from her folded crepe around in circles. Naru seemed fixated on them, staring with lips slightly parted, hand moving with slow, steady assurance.
"I don't have much time," she murmured, not looking at me. "I'd like to cherish a friendship while I'm able… but only if you're willing."
She didn't have much time?
At first I thought she referred to the end of the world she and the rest of the Sensui personalities wished to bring about—but Itsuki's eyes cut to her sidelong, golden color giving away their movement like a verbal declaration, and I remembered the other truth: that Naru was dying. That Sensui was dying, gripped by a terminal illness from which he could not escape.
Naru was a dying woman requesting friendship in her final days. Who was I to deny her that, even if her other selves were bent on the destruction of the world?
But also—why me, of all people?
It bore thinking about, of course. I was a nobody on my own, only exceptional when you looked at the important company I kept. Was this overture of friendship and forgiveness a ploy to spy on my other friends—friends who might stand in Sensui's way in the days to come? And when you got down to it, this overture of Naru's was kind of laughable. I hadn't come to meet her just to meet her. I'd come because of what Itsuki had threatened; he hadn't alluded to Naru's intentions at all. Itsuki had made it very clear that if I didn't show up, he'd make good on his threats—the ones he'd made that night before I managed to flee with Sailor V. How could Naru ask for friendship with one breath and bid Itsuki to dole out threats with another? How could she claim to value my consent one minute and blackmail me the next? Did she not see the fundamental contradictions at the heart of her words and Itsuki's actions?
But as I sat there, wondering, Itsuki's eyes drifted to me, and he smiled. It was a small smile, secretive and subtle, accompanied by the shrewdest shake of his head.
… why did I get the sense, suddenly, that Naru wasn't a hypocrite at all, and that she was not aware of the methods Itsuki used to get me here?
Naru mistook my silence for rejection, I think. Her shoulders sagged; she stopped picking at her food. "If you don't want to be friends, I will respect—"
I spoke as much to Naru as I did to Itsuki, who sat beside her. "It's not that you're not great," I said, and her head came up with a snap. "It's that I'm going to have a hard time trusting this situation for a while. I met you after being kidnapped, after all."
"That's true," Naru said, voice soft with thought. Then her eyes gleamed; she latched onto the sleeve of Itsuki's leather jacket. "Itsuki, promise you won't do that again," she demanded.
Evenly, he replied: "I promise not to do that again."
"That's better," Naru said. "And Keiko, if it makes you feel better, we can hang out in public. Like this. That way you have nothing to fear."
"… uh-huh," I said, more than a little taken aback.
"And Itsuki would never betray a promise he made to me," Naru continued. She took the aforementioned by the arm and smiled at him, expression sweet and trusting. "Would you, Itsuki?"
"No," he replied, looking at her. "I would never."
And that, apparently, was that. Naru looked at me with eyes shining, hopeful expectation radiating from every pore. It was all I could do to swallow down my perplexed nerves and paste on a smile.
"Well… that's comforting, I suppose," I said.
Naru's hands clapped together and clasped over her head. "Then it's settled," she said. "How about we go shopping after we eat? There's a lovely boutique around the corner I want to visit, if that's OK."
She looked so blissfully happy (and Itsuki looked at me with such cold, pointed eyes) that I didn't have the heart to tell her no.
Before appearing in the world of Yu Yu Hakusho, I read (and wrote) quite a bit of fanfic for it.
I read and wrote mostly OC fanfics, because apparently the irony of dreaming of living in and then actually living in that world was too delicious for Hiruko to ignore. Many of the fics I read and wrote contained the same clichés—or, more generously, the same tropes from fic to fic, haunting each story like very persistent ghosts. One of my ubiquitous favorites was sending an OC shopping with a member of the canon cast. Oh, these shopping trips always involved OCs who fell into the YYH world without any changes of clothes, and a wardrobe is inevitably purchased for them during a spending spree with the help of Koenma's limitless credit card
So, yes. Going on a shopping spree with a member of the YYH cast was pretty cliché.
But at least very few fics, if any, featured an OC going on said shopping spree with Sensui (or Naru, rather) and Itsuki. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.
Sort of?
Anyway. What commenced after dinner might be the single most bizarre experience of my life thus far. We walked a few blocks to a very swanky boutique, one with Kurama-worthy fresh flowers in myriad vases and complimentary champagne and staff wearing clothes straight off a runway, and I was shoved unceremoniously into a dressing room and told to undress. A cascade of clothing flew over the top of the dressing room door, and at Naru's behest I donned a dress with a price tag that made the blood drain straight out of my face. I didn't have the heart to lower my arms as I donned the garment, afraid I might muss the many expensive ruffles adorning the tiered bodice, and with ginger steps I left the dressing room so Naru could inspect me.
I might have been too nervous to have fun, but Naru didn't share my feelings in the slightest. She screamed when she saw me in the first dress and gave a rousing thumbs up, shooing me back into the booth to try another, and then another, bidding the shop girls to get me matching shoes and accessories so I could walk the runway in a complete look. There was a three-way mirror on a platform outside the dressing room like you see in bridal shops; Naru nursed a glass of champagne and giggled as I stood on the platform and twirled for her, my face schooled into an admittedly frantic smile of confusion mixed with unbridled anxiety. Itsuki sat on a chaise lounge and watched us, giving his opinions from time to time when Naru asked for them. He seemed almost like a guard dog, sitting there with a glass of untouched champagne held loosely in one hand, but sometimes, when he looked at Naru, a soft smile crept across his features. Maybe he was having a good time, after all. Hard to say. He had a world class poker face, that was for sure…
Eventually I got a little tired of functioning as Naru's living Barbie doll. "Don't you want to try on anything, Naru?" I said from inside the dressing room between outfit swaps. "They've got a lot of cute stuff here."
"No." Her reply came quick and sharp, but then she laughed to soften it. "I don't think the store would appreciate that. And they wouldn't appreciate it, either."
There was no question about who she meant; her loaded tone said it all. Standing in the dressing room in nothing but my underthings, I clutched the dress I'd just taken off to my chest and hung my head. I'd really stepped on a rake, judging from her subdued voice. It didn't feel sufficient, but even so I told her, "I'm sorry they don't let you…"
"It's all right," she said. "I know my measurements. I can buy clothing without trying it on. Sometimes they let me get away with it at home, but out in public…" Her wistful tone firmed. "No. I'm afraid that isn't in the cards." There came a rustle, accompanied by a merry giggle. "And that's why I have to live vicariously through you!" A dress floated over the top of the dressing room door. "Here, try this next!"
Per her instructions, I tried on more. I will admit it was fun to goof off with her, especially as she drank another glass of champagne and got even gigglier, but I couldn't help but wondering what the heck I was doing and why I was even here at this point. Itsuki had barely said a word ever since we started the night's fashion show, too, leaving Naru to guide the festivities as she saw fit. Even though Naru seemed like she was having fun, Itsuki's watchful guard-dog-gaze had me on edge and asking if this was really just a play-date? A girl's night out, with a demon chaperone? He had held his threat over my head so I'd come to do this? I'd expected him to ask me to do something morally questionable, not hang out and play dress-up.
To think I'd abandoned Yusuke in the middle of our Very Important Conversation, and for this? I could only hope to find him in my bedroom when I got back, waiting as I'd ask to pick up where we left off…
A few minutes later I left the dressing room wearing a knee-length cocktail dress, red with gold trim on the neckline and plunging back. It felt wildly too grown-up, too sophisticated for a teenager, but Naru gasped when she saw me and downed a slug of champagne almost on reflex. The little end-table next to the lounge she and Itsuki occupied was littered with empty glasses, shimmering in the rich overhead lights.
As Naru drained her glass, the door to the dressing suite opened to admit on of the shop girls. How she walked in the thick gold carpet I can't say, because she wore six inch stiletto heels and didn't wobble even a bit as she made her way toward us.
"I apologize, but our store will be closing in fifteen minutes," she said with a low bow. "May I help you ring up any purchases, or perhaps put garments on hold if you're still considering?"
I started to say no, we wouldn't be getting anything, but Naru waved her empty glass and interrupted.
"One more of these for the road, and we'll take…" She looked at the pile of dresses to which she'd given thumbs ups and nodded. "Those three, please! And the one she's wearing now." Naru leaned forward and cooed, fingering the hem of my skirt. "The color is so nice with your skin!"
"Wait, what?!" I stammered, remembering the outrageous price tag on all the dresses. "Naru, I can't. These are much too expensive, and—"
She lightly smacked my arm. "Don't be silly, silly; I insist!" Naru hiccupped as she leaned back against the chaise. "Consider it compensation for pain and suffering. I'm making up the other night to you!"
"You don't have to do that," I protested. "You really don't have to—"
"I do, though. I do!" she shot back, head shaking left to right and back again. "These are gifts, freely given, so don't you worry about a thing, my good-good friend." She lurched off the chaise and shepherded me into the dressing room. "Now get changed again, please. No dawdling; they're trying to close!"
I stripped out of the red cocktail dress and back into my own clothes at warp speed, noting with a growl of frustration as the dress disappeared over the top of the door. Was there a way to stop this purchase? I did not want to be in Naru's debt, even over something as mundane as a dress! In my haste I exited the dressing room with my top slightly askew, but even though I hurried, I was too late. I exited to find Itsuki signing a receipt, which the shop employee took back from him with a bow and a very formal expression of thanks.
Formal, and quiet, because Naru had fallen asleep on Itsuki's shoulder.
I waited for the shop keeper to leave before looking at Itsuki and whispering, "You really didn't have to do that."
Itsuki shrugged, but with only one unencumbered shoulder. "Naru wanted to." It was a dismissal if I'd ever heard one, and without further ado he gently jiggled Naru's knee. "Naru," he murmured against her hair. "Naru, wake up."
She stirred, golden brow wrinkling beneath her thick black bangs. "Hmm?"
"The store is about to close," Itsuki said, and he reached up to curl a lock of hair behind her ear.
OK, so maybe playing dress-up with Naru wasn't the weirdest thing that had ever happened: Watching them be domestic took that crown. Naru sighed and cuddled closer to Itsuki, trying to go back to sleep, but he chuckled and gently shook her knee again. Naru frowned, grumbled something unintelligible, and sat up, rubbing at her eyes with her fingertips. Itsuki and I both reached to catch her when she stood, swaying precariously, but she sat back down with an "oof" and a small laugh.
"It's time to go, Naru," Itsuki said.
She shook her head without opening her eyes. "I don't want to walk all the way back, though."
Itsuki shook his head, smiling at her expense. "You drank too much champagne."
"I did." Naru nodded with a giggle. "I did—oh." Her eyes cracked, looking at me blearily. "Keiko?"
"Yes?" I said.
She beamed sleepily. "You look so pretty in your new dresses. We'll go somewhere fancy next time so you can wear them."
"Ah—all right?"
"I'll see you next time." She nodded, almost to herself. "This was fun, wasn't it?"
"Um. Yeah." I stepped closer, reaching for her shoulder. "But what—?"
Naru gave an impish giggle and covered her mouth with her fingers. Then Naru's eyes closed. Her face relaxed. Then it tensed, features screwing up tight, and she hunched forward over her knees, fingers winding tight into her hair as she gave a low, long groan.
"Well, well, well," grumbled the person who had once been Naru. "She did it again."
I snatched back my hand with a gasp.
Their voice was nasally and a touch abrasive, a far cry from Naru's smooth and ladylike speech. The man—because this was definitely a man now—sat up with a scowl, glaring at me down the length of his thin nose. The expression was hawkish and sharp, like a razor turned human, so alien to Naru's soft smiles that he looked almost like a different person entirely despite inhabiting the same body. I had to suppress another gasp when he dragged his hands through his hair and pushed it back over the top of his head, that severe style favored by Sensui in the anime.
"She always does this when she drinks," he muttered in that same nasal tone; his upper lip curled into a sneer. "That brat enjoys the best part but as soon as the going gets tough, she goes to sleep and leaves me with cleanup."
Itsuki scooted an inch away from him across the chaise. "Hello to you, too, George," he said, an amused smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
'George' only harrumphed before eyeing the litany of discarded champagne flutes on the side table. "I should have known better than to listen to her," he lamented, but the kind of lamentation that said he thought the whole thing was horribly stupid and regretted ever being born, in a sarcastic kind of way. "I should have known what she was planning the moment she ordered that damn vegetarian crepe." Here he eyed me over, even more derision sneaking into his voice. "Not that she's one for making smart choices."
"George," Itsuki said, a note of warning in his voice.
"Consorting with humans," George continued unfettered. He tossed his hair with an even more hostile sneer. "Feh! Isn't that just like her?" He shook his head. "Well, at least she didn't eat any meat tonight. If she'd done that, made me puke up putrid flesh—but she knows better. I have to clean tomorrow. I have to cook for the week. Without me, that lovely clean home of ours would—" He paused. The sneer faded. He hung his head and muttered, "But that's my job. My role. What I was created for. What I was—"
The personality called George stood. He held steadier than Naru when she'd tried to drunkenly climb to her feet, movements clipped and methodical and efficient and maybe even stiff—a far cry from Naru's lithe dancer's grace. He held himself differently than Naru had, too, weight distributed in different ways, leading with his slightly lowered head instead of his chest. I couldn't help but stare as he walked slowly toward the door; he looked absolutely like a different person, and when the shop-keeper walked through the door and held it open for him, her jaw dropped in confusion. Seems I wasn't the only one who noticed the difference a personality made…
The shop employee recovered after George disappeared through the doorway; she carried over a hanging bag full of dresses and handed this to Itsuki with yet another bow, and then she ushered us (politely) out of the private dressing area and into the front of the store. We passed display cases of jewelry and other accessories on our way to the door, where we caught up with George in time to walk together onto the outside sidewalk. The workers bowed at us in our wake, and as soon as we crossed the threshold, they shut the front door and turned off the lights behind us.
It had indeed gotten late, after all. The downtown streets of Mushiyori City were nearly deserted, only the barest number of pedestrians walking down the sidewalks beneath the sparkling skyscrapers above. George stared up at these and scowled before rubbing his temples, muttering something I couldn't hear. He looked pained, almost, but maybe he just didn't like being drunk.
Still, I was worried for him. "George?" I said, but Itsuki put his hand lightly on my arm and shook his head.
"Forgive him," he murmured in my ear as George began to meander down the street, still rubbing at his temples. "He's less sympathetic to the human race than my Naru." Itsuki slung the bag of dresses over his shoulder, staring after George through narrowed eyes. "Truth be told, George and Naru are much alike. They both adore the natural world here, but Naru has sympathy for humans where George does not."
I vaguely remembered something about that from the chapter notes of a YYH volume—that the female personality pitied humans, whereas another who loved the natural world did not. Must've been George, then. I filed that away for future reference and asked, "What did he mean by his role?"
"All of them have a role." Itsuki shrugged. "Naru is the outlet for creativity and kindness. George handles the daily drudgery none of the others wish to undertake."
"And the others?" I said.
Itsuki merely smiled. "I won't give up information that easily." And yet, despite the admonishment, his eyes softened. "I owe you a debt of thanks."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"Naru was distraught over the night you met. She was so desperate to see you again, and to make the wrongs right." Again he looked after George, this time looking troubled—but no less affectionate, even if Naru had left in favor of letting George loose. "I worry for her mental health, but I think, with the aid of a treasured friend, she will be…"
"You ass."
Itsuki stepped away, taken aback by my hissed words. "Beg pardon?" he said, looking at me as if I'd just vomited on his shoes.
I wanted to do much worse than that, though. My fists clenched, breath like dragon's smoke on the cold air.
"Don't make me out to be some sort of gregarious saint," I spat. "'Treasured friend?' What the hell are you even talking about?" My head shook like a dog trying to rid its ears of fleas. "Don't thank me like I made some selfless sacrifice to be here. Don't act like I chose to be here! You know I wouldn't have come if you hadn't—!"
"Threatened the boy?" A low laugh. "I confess I was not sure if that would work. You haven't been friends for long, after all."
Words failed. When I'd fled from Itsuki that night we met, he'd managed to whisper in my ear that Amanuma would be the cost for refusing Itsuki's next summons—that if he had need of me, and I refused to come to him, the boy's safety could not be guaranteed. And this too was what he'd promised on the phone when he summoned me to that café. He hadn't mentioned Naru, of course. I thought I'd be accessory to some horrible crime, but instead there had come that overture of friendship—and yet here he was acting as if I'd come simply because I was Naru's friend. Well, that might have been the lie he told her, that I'd come of my own volition, but that just wasn't true. I hadn't come for Naru. I'd come because—
My eyes cut to George's retreating back.
To the back that was also Naru's, that sad and sweet girl who was dying and merely needed a friend to lean on in her final days.
My fury cooled. I stood there, as useless as a fizzling firework, while Itsuki looked me over the way a butcher sizes up a cut of meat.
"I suspect that next time I call," he said, delicate as razor wire, "I might not need to resort to threats to guarantee your presence."
I hated that he could read me that well, or read minds, or whatever it was he was doing to know what had happened in my head in the last five seconds. I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and turned away, chin buried deep in my scarf to hide my scowl. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm more of a saint than you know," I muttered. "But whatever. No way would I let you hurt a little kid. He doesn't deserve to be used the way you used him. Amanuma didn't do anything wrong."
"I suppose that's true, in some senses," Itsuki said, words maddeningly calm. "But to throw a wrench into our plans is sin enough."
"Then blame me for that, not him," I said. "He didn't know any better."
Itsuki rounded on me, staring me down nose to nose from merely an inch away. "I do blame you," he said, golden eyes gleaming like gilt poison. "Naru, however, does not. So I bite my tongue and do as she bids."
"You love her."
I'm not sure what made me blurt out that observation, but whatever had compelled me to speak that truth, it guided me well. Itsuki's eyes simmered; he pulled away, staring at me as his brow furrowed.
"So blunt," he said under his breath. "But, yes. She is precious to me. As you would make sacrifices for that boy, so too would I make sacrifices for her. And for all that she is, deep down." Again his eyes drifted to George's back, far away now on the sidewalk. "She would prefer it if you were allies, for all her pretense of mere friendship. You would be useful. She knows this. But she is soft, and she wishes you happiness, even if she sees what you will become."
"That's the second time you've said that."
Itsuki seemed to come back to himself, looking at me with a subtle start. "Hmm?"
"What I will become," I repeated. "You've alluded to that before. What do you mean?"
His eyes widened. "You mean none of your friends have noticed?" he said, with surprise that seemed nothing less than genuine.
I glared. "Noticed what?"
He didn't reply. He passed his hand through his hair, gaze distant and looking past me, not at me. "So not even the operatives handpicked by Spirit World…" He chuckled, lips lifting in a smile. "Perhaps they are incompetent, after all."
My teeth showed. "Hey, don't you talk about my friends like—"
Itsuki took a swift step in my direction, eyes intensifying; I fell quiet at once. "No. Not incompetent," he said, once more searching my face for something I could not name. "Merely blind. Blinded by notions preconceived, unable to see you for what you truly are."
He wasn't trying to intimidate me, and yet that is exactly what he did. The intensity of his stare, so assessing and perceptive, rendered me frozen in place on the sidewalk. But soon his gaze softened, this time with… was that sadness I saw in his expression, bitter and warm like a shot of stinging whiskey in the throat?
"Oh, my poor, dear Keiko," Itsuki said. "Your friends must think so little of you, not to see the truth so plainly writ across your face."
Our stares held a moment longer.
He passed the garment bag of Naru's gifted dresses to me, and I took hold of them on reflex.
Then, without a word, Itsuki walked down the street after George, and the two of them vanished into the shadows as one—leaving me no choice but to go my own way home, desperately curious but utterly impotent to act upon that curiosity.
My confusion faded into grief, however, as soon as I reached home.
Yusuke was not there.
I tried call, but it was no use. Kuwabara did not know where he'd gone, and Atsuko said she hadn't seen him. Yusuke had vanished like Itsuki into the night, unwilling to wait for me and my delayed explanations.
He would not return home again at all, I realized eventually, and would go straight to the Tournament from Genkai's.
Coincidentally, Kuwabara and I had one of our usual study sessions the day after Yusuke pulled his disappearing act. He let me into his house like a shamefaced dog about to get a scolding, head hanging low as we headed for the kitchen table, and I wasted no time starting in on an interrogation. He'd lied to me, after all, and call me a hypocrite for being mad about it if you want, but my grief from the night before had turned quite swiftly into anger and I wasn't in the mood to pull punches.
"How long was he in town before I found out?" I said, voice deathly hushed as I set my book bag on the tabletop.
"Just a few days." The words poured from Kuwabara like an overglutted reservoir; I sensed he was in no mood to mince words, either. "Came by to drop off some stuff for class and get some notes. Also his clothes got torn all to hell during training and he needed to pick up new ones." A scowl, annoyed and crabby. "Left me with most of his laundry, that asshole."
The notes struck a chord—I'd noticed he was missing a few homework assignments. Maybe he'd been in town, unbeknownst to me, and had picked them up himself. No way to know, though. If Kuwabara wasn't mentioning previous visits from Yusuke, odds are he'd only gone to Kuwabara once.
"I'll do it. I do most of his laundry anyway," I said, my ire cooling a little. "Not that he's grateful."
Kuwabara hummed and murmured a thanks, but then his expression darkened. "Say, Keiko? Why are you two fighting, anyway?"
I sighed. "So you noticed."
"I mean, it was kind of hard not to?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Normally he pesters you with laundry and school crap, not me, but there he was, showing up on my doorstep without even calling first." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "I told him to go see you or to go home to his place, but he wouldn't. Said he didn't want to see you. But why would he not wanna do that?" Kuwabara looked plaintive, then, eyes huge with worry. "I know you two are close. You're basically siblings. Remind me of me and Shizuru, more or less. So why?"
My blood ran a little cold in my chest, chilled by adrenaline and Kuwabara's searching gaze. "He… it's hard to explain," I said, words lame even to my ears.
Luckily Kuwabara wasn't the type to pry. "Well, the good news is that I'm not gonna pressure you into explaining when it's hard," he said, crossing his arms and nodding with matter of fact assurance. "Just come talk to me when you're ready, OK?"
"Thanks, Kuwabara. You're a good friend."
He beamed, though he tried to hide it. "The best, even?"
"The best," I assured him.
"Heh." He rubbed a finger beneath his nose and grinned, chin thrust high. "I mean, it comes naturally, but thank you for the compliment." And with that he pulled out a chair and opened up his book bag. "Now, about this English homework—"
I sat beside him at the table, but I didn't look too hard at his books. "Kuwabara?" I said, voice low with worry.
He picked up on that worry at once. "What is it?" he said, angling himself toward me in his chair. "Are you OK, Keiko?"
"You, uh…" I swallowed. "What would you do if you had to keep a secret from Shizuru, and she found out? Not what the secret is, just the fact that you have one. Would you tell her the secret?" My voice dropped even lower as Kuwabara's eyes widened. "Even if telling her could hurt her?"
But he didn't have to think about his answer, even with that corollary. "That's easy," he replied at once. "I'd tell her what the secret is. Shizuru can take care of herself and she'd kick my butt if I kept my mouth shut." He put a finger to his chin, eyes moving skyward. "But I guess if Shizuru is Yusuke in this equation… is it some Spirit World stuff or somethin'?"
I winced. "More or less."
"Hmm." He tapped his chin a few times, then met my anxious eyes with a reassuring smile. "Siblings are tough. You want to protect them, but they can be stubborn. Yusuke and Shizuru have that in common." For a second he hesitated, but then he nodded at me. "Whatever it is, I think I'd tell him. Or her? Or however this metaphor is supposed to work; oh, you know what I mean!" He shook his head to get himself back on track. "Shizuru and I fight a lot, but she'd be there for me if I needed her even if we were fighting. Yusuke I think would do the same for you." He leaned in close, puppy-eyes on full and watery display. "But Keiko, you gotta make it right at some point. He's not the patient type, y'know? So the longer you wait, the worse it'll get."
I hated that he was right about that and had to resist the urge to yank out a fistful of my hair. Instead I just sighed and looked at the tabletop, dejected. "Yeah. I agree." But I made sure to look at him warmly, so he wouldn't think I was mad. "Thanks."
The warmth was exactly what Kuwabara wanted, I think, because he beamed at me again. "Heh. Any time," he said as his cheeks turned pink. With a cough he opened up his book and tapped the bottom of it against the table. "Well, we gotta hit the books. I've got a test tomorrow!"
He had a test to take, and so did I—though mine had precious little to do with school.
As soon as my study session with Kuwabara ended, I went home and pulled out the stationary set my mother had given to me as a New Year's present. I stared at it for perhaps longer than I'd like to admit, but eventually—after an internal war that lasted well into the wee hours of the morning—I took a deep breath and reluctantly put pen to paper.
The minute the nib hit stationary, the words all but exploded into being. It was like falling into a trance, writing the letter, and when I woke up again I found myself with an aching hand and a stack of paper a quarter of an inch thick, all of it covered in my spidery scrawl. I had to go back and edit it when I was done. There were some tricks in place I needed to finesse, tricks that kept the truth from eyes not meant to see it. Tricks and traps set, with shaking fingers I folded the papers and placed them in an envelope, and upon the front of that envelope I scrawled a short note.
"This is the truth," I wrote. "Once you read it, there's no going back. I leave the decision to you."
"You are the closest thing I have had to a brother in this, or in any, life."
"I'm sorry. And I hope you can forgive me."
I stared at the envelope that held my fate, my truth, for many minutes.
Then I tucked it inside a large envelope, affixed a stamp, and scrawled Genkai's address across the front.
But don't think I was that brave just yet. Of course, then I had to grapple with the idea of actually mailing the damn thing, and that's a feat much harder said than done, lemme tell ya.
The next day before school, I found myself standing in front of a mailbox a block or two away from the school gates. I stared at it, at that dark slot on the front where I could place my envelope, like a gladiator eyeing the gate that would release a lion into the arena. My hands shook, creasing the heavy packet of paper and streaking its front with sweat. I avoided touching the address on the front in fear of smearing it, holding the envelope by the edges like someone holding a venomous snake by the back of the head. Despite the chilly day, damp from the oncoming springtime, sweat beaded between my shoulder blades and on my forehead. To drop the letter or not drop the letter. To place it in the box or to take it home again, to stew on it and leave it in my drawer, or—
"What are you doing?"
I flinched and stifled a small scream, but it was only Kaito standing behind me on the sidewalk. I put a hand to my heart and fanned myself with the letter, leaning on the mailbox for support.
"Oh my god, it's just you," I said as his brow hefted dangerously close to his hairline. "Hi, Kaito."
"Hi, yourself," he said. "I will ask again: What are you doing?"
"Who, me?" I laughed, then heaved a weary sigh. "Just trying to be brave, is all."
Kaito frowned. "Brave?"
"Yup."
He stared at me. I stared at him. He looked at the letter in my hand. He looked at the mailbox. He looked at my face, my features arranged in a sunny, fake smile.
"… you aren't going to elaborate, are you?" he said.
I grinned harder. "Probably not."
He considered this a moment. "Well, then," he said.
We stood in silence.
Then, quick as a striking viper, he plucked the letter from my hand and dropped it in the mailbox.
I was too stunned to move, but as he turned on his heel to march away, the spell of shock he'd cast upon me crumbled. "Hey, wait a second—what in the flying fuck was that for?!" I screeched as I dashed after him.
Kaito just shrugged, not bothering to break his stride. "You were overthinking it, whatever it was," he said. "Oh. And you're welcome."
"I didn't say thanks."
"No. But you were thinking it." Another shrug. "Or you would've thought it, eventually. Which is the same thing in my book."
I started to tell him he was a douchebag and I hated his guts—but I didn't, because it wasn't true, and because he was probably right. If he hadn't intervened, there was a chance I would've squirreled the letter away in my desk and procrastinated past the point of no return, just avoided what I needed to do in hopes the situation would go away on its own sans my intervention.
But there was no avoiding this situation, but now that that letter was in the box, I had faced it head on. With a little help from Kaito, of course.
"Yeah," I grudgingly admitted as I fell into step beside him. "I guess I probably would have."
"Harrumph." He shoved his glasses up his nose and smirked into the folds of his thick scarf. "Let's go. No sense being late."
We weren't late to school that day.
I just hoped my letter wasn't too late, too, for all the effort I'd put into it.
The next few weeks passed in what I can only describe as a cliché flash—but also at a slow crawl, paradox as maddening as it was utterly inexplicable.
Twice a week or so, I'd catch sight of Botan leaving the alley with Hiei, her blue hair flashing in the floodlights from the view of my bedroom window. She sometimes crashed at my place afterward, and sometimes I'd find her passed out at Atsuko's covered in bruises with her hair fanned and tangled across the pillows. I didn't see much of her (though I did finally pin down the pattern of where she liked to crash on which nights of the week), but truth be told I was too busy with my own training with Hideki-sensei to pay Botan's lessons much attention. Minato had become a fixture at our weekly lessons, and afterward Kagome, Minato and I would go out for dinner or a snack to catch up and chat. Other nights I met with Kuwabara for our lessons, and still other nights I'd make dinner for Hiei under the guise of our weekly parole meetings (and sometimes he'd still try to help me break through the red walls in my mind, though in that venture we had little success to speak of). Ayame, too, slipped into my schedule to collect my reports on the boys, but I had scant little to say each week beyond outlining their training progress and telling her they weren't falling apart emotionally with the dread of the impending Tournament. We were all too busy, myself included, to really dread its approach. Attending the weekend training sessions and bringing the boys (aside from the ever-absent Yusuke) lunch each week also marked the flow of time, the above events blurring into one another like a movie reel played at hyper speed.
And then night came, as it always did, and passed like that same movie slowed way the fuck down.
Kurama was the first one to notice how tired I looked as the weeks trickled and sped by. We were attending one of our weekly parole meetings—meetings we only barely pretended weren't excuses to simply hang out with each other and commiserate—when he brought it up. "You look tired, Kei," he said, studying the bags beneath my eyes with obvious concern. "Are you sleeping well?"
In truth, I wasn't. I could distract myself during the day with training, homework, meetings, study sessions, but at night? Unless Hiei came around to help worm into my own memories, I was alone and idle, and idle minds are just as much a devil's playground as ones hands. Night meant time for contemplation, and time for contemplation inevitably led to uncontrollable fixation and obsession, which caused undue anxiety, which snowballed and tied my stomach into tenterhook-addled knots of pain and anguish, lying awake and wondering when the penny would drop and Yusuke would read my letter and call me in a fury, or maybe he'd feel betrayed, or maybe he'd hate me and—
I explained, in terms both halting and desolate, what had transpired between Yusuke and myself. Kurama and I had gone to our usual hangout in the Sarayashiki square to watch the lindy hoppers, sitting at our favored table over a plate of shared food and cups of tea while I told him the whole story. Although telling him what happened wasn't exactly pleasant, it wasn't exactly unpleasant, either. The tension had been driving me nuts, and talking to Kagome and Minato about it wasn't enough to ease it all. They weren't close to Yusuke like Kurama was. Kurama was both a Switcheroo person in his own right, and he knew all parties involved in my plight. Talking to him was like letting loose the stopper at the bottom of a bathtub, tension draining from my chest with every word.
"So you sent him a letter," he murmured when I was through.
"Yeah." I nodded, slumping bonelessly in my seat. "It explains everything." Or at least it told him where to go to get said explanations; I scowled at nothing in particular, hoping he'd figure it out. "No idea if he'll read it or burn it, though…"
"I'm surprised. You seemed intent on carrying your secret to the grave," Kurama observed.
"Yeah, well. Something had to give." I shifted in my seat, tracing the rim of my mug with a finger. "You know everything. Hiei knows a good deal of it from reading my mind, though he refuses to let me give him the whole story. Yusuke apparently picked up on all the crap I pull, and since it's come between us this badly…"
"And Kuwabara?"
I looked up with a frown to find Kurama staring at me, his head tilted to one side. His hair looked black in the half-light of the café, eyes also dark instead of their usual luminous green. We traded a long look before I took a sip of tea and set it carefully aside.
"He'll be the last to know," Kurama said, "if Yusuke reads that letter."
"Yes," I admitted. "That's true."
"And he would be hurt, to know he had been left out."
"Yes," I repeated. "That's also true."
Kurama's head tilted the barest fraction to the side. "Why haven't you written him a letter, then?"
I hesitated, and Kurama gave me the space to explore that hesitation, find my words and loose them one by one like guided arrows. "I worry," I began, but then I stopped and shook my head. "It's hard to admit, but I didn't have a lot of friends in my past life. I mean, I had friends, but not a lot of them. And not very many that I made as a kid lasted to adulthood." It was tough keeping a grimace off my face. "So I guess I just… I value the ones I've made in this life. I want them to last. And I guess I thought if I told them the truth, I'd lose them." That last part was the hardest to admit of all; I did not dare look at Kurama when I said it. "But if Yusuke calls me screaming about the contents of that letter, I'll tell Kuwabara right away."
Kurama said, "I'm tempted to think you're merely avoiding the pain of a potentially rejected confession."
"Like a schoolgirl with a crush." I snorted. "How ironic, all things considered."
"Ironic, indeed," he replied. "And like a confession of feelings, it will only be more difficult to reveal the truth the longer you wait to do so."
"I'm aware of that, too."
He picked up his mug. Took a sip. Set it down again. "Then I won't lecture you," he said, folding his hands neatly atop the table.
"Thanks," I said.
"But if you'd like to practice what you might say, I volunteer my services."
I couldn't help but grin. "Kurama's Improv Class for Reluctant Liars. Nice. I'll let you know."
He laughed, a low chuckle deep in the back of his throat, and took another sip of tea before turning the topic of conversation elsewhere.
That moment with him at the café bled into many others we shared as time marched inexorably toward the Tournament, though I reflected upon it often in the days that followed—days that I filled with more fighting practice of my own, plus a few forays to the library to research ways to become psychic. Obviously I found none that worked, though there was that one incident Kagome and Minato helped me with that involved getting covered with mud and glitter and bathing in moonlight in the middle of a river while drinking blessed green tea upside down, and the cops saw us and we had to dash dripping through the streets—
Anyway.
We were in a holding pattern, more or less, one characterized my scheduled meets and training and the regular perils of being a teen, and this pattern lasted for weeks and weeks—until one day, I got a phone call that changed everything.
Kuwabara was the one to place that call. "Hey, Keiko?" he said, voice pitched high with panic and confusion when I picked up the line. "Was my sister really at beautician school?"
"That's what she told me," I said, careful to avoid a lie. "Why?"
"Well, she just stumbled through the front door and she's beat to hell, that's why!" he warbled. "So unless beauticians have also started moonlighting as professional wrestlers—?!"
"Oh," I said, trying to sound suitably concerned. "Well, that's certainly weird!"
"I'll say! Her arms are black and blue!"
I pretended to act shocked; Kuwabara didn't appear to notice my deception, probably too distracted by his sister's condition to care, and that worked in my favor very well.
I couldn't look too eager, now could I? No. That would tip Kuwabara off, and that was something I just couldn't risk.
For the next week—one of the final weeks before spring break arrived and the Dark Tournament began—Kuwabara called her every day to report on Shizuru's wellbeing. I called him when he forgot, cloaking my calls in the veil of concern to keep my true motives at bay. Per Kuwabara, Shizuru was grouchy and she slept almost all day, only appearing to cook and eat food before retreating to her room to go to bed again. Her naps were coma-like in their intensity, he said, but eventually he called to tell me that Shizuru had awoken for more than five minutes at long last. "She's on the couch getting caught up on her soap operas," he fretted, "but she still won't tell me how she got all those bruises, and I'm really, really worried!"
"Well, it's like you said," I told him. "She's tough. She can take care of herself. She'll tell you when she's ready, right?"
Kuwabara grumbled an affirmative—and when Sunday rolled around, when I could rest assured that the boys were in the woods training and I wouldn't be disturbed, I walked to tough-as-nails Shizuru's house and knocked on the door. She opened it after a minute, brow lifting in subtle greeting when she saw who'd come to call.
"Hi, Shizuru. Welcome back," I said. "Do you have a minute?"
"Sure," she said. "Why?"
"Not here. Follow me."
Her brow lifted even higher at that, but she grabbed her shoes and did as I asked without argument. Good ol' Shizuru, am I right?
Botan seemed to agree. Based on her sleeping patterns, I'd predicted we could find her at Atsuko's place, and she did not disappoint me. She answered the bell when I rang it and opened the door with a gasp, grinning ear to ear the moment she spotted Shizuru standing behind me. Atsuko snored on the cough in the living room, out of sight but sawing logs around the corner.
"Shizuru, you're back!" Botan squealed, and she threw her arms around Shizuru in delight. "I'm so happy to see you!" She stopped, pushing away from Shizuru to blink at me. "But wait. Keiko is here, too." Her ponytail whipped around when she looked between us. "What's going on?"
"Yeah, kid," Shizuru said with a dry glance in my direction. "I wouldn't mind a girl's morning out, maybe a nice mimosa over brunch, but what gives?"
I couldn't help but grin, though I quickly squashed the expression with one of comical gravity. "Shizuru. Botan," I said, favoring each woman in turn. "Now that we're gathered in one place, I think it's time."
"Time for what?" Shizuru groused.
"Yes, Keiko, please do clue us in!" Botan concurred.
A warm spring wind blew by, then, a reminder that winter had come and gone at last—bringing fate to us on its temperate zephyrs. At the feel of it on my skin, I couldn't help but grin again.
"Two weeks from today, the boys are leaving to face nearly certain death in a certain Dark Tournament," I said. "They have spent weeks planning their attacks in the woods, training with each other or with Genkai. And that means… well." Again I looked to each of them, gratified when understanding dawned one by one. "I think it's time the Girl Squad planned its attack, too."
There followed a moment of silence.
Shizuru rolled her head atop her neck; it gave a series of pops, loud and aggressive and full of promise.
"Well, don't just stand there," she said. "Let's get this show on the road, huh?"
Botan jumped in place, clapping and smiling and bouncing on her heels. "Oh, I know this might sound weird, but this is exactly what I've been waiting for!" she said, and without another word she beckoned us both inside.
And then, faster than I thought possible, the fateful day finally came.
It came without fanfare, without ominous foreboding, without even a big sendoff to mark the whole occasion. I don't think anyone wanted to jinx the road ahead by making grandiose promises or by suffering protracted farewells. The crew gathered to bid one another goodbye—everyone minus Yusuke—and then we went separate ways on the stoop of my parents' restaurant. The goodbyes hinged on the idea of not seeing one another until the tournament was through and everyone had made it home alive (or home in a casket), but even so, we kept it light. Breezy. As if impending death and dismemberment weren't held above our head on a single fraying thread. There were promises of safety, requests of care and caution, of course—but my smile stayed in place, confident and assured, and I made more jokes that expressions of dour doom.
"Acting chipper to keep up morale?" Kurama murmured just before we parted, and at that assumption I could only nod.
Little did even that sharp fox know that my smile wasn't an act at all, and that I felt as chipper as I looked.
Little did he know he'd be seeing me much sooner than he thought, and that this goodbye was only temporary.
NOTES
Surprise! Some of you guessed right that it was Itsuki/Sensui/Naru calling (and that other personality, George, who was once more outlined in the YYH manga notes at one point but never seen on-screen), and now you know what she promised and what he said to her when she was fleeing. He holds Amanuma's wellbeing over her head, blackmailing her cooperation in exchange for his safety. Not a great way to start a friendship, though…
Will Yusuke read Keiko's letter? Will she manage to get herself to the Tournament in a timely fashion? Good question. We'll find out soon.
Now: We need to talk about hiatuses.
It should come as no surprise to anyone that I'm taking a hiatus in November, since I always go on hiatus in November to participate in NaNoWriMo. Additionally, I will also be taking some weeks off in October because I will 100% overwork myself if I try to update on October 6 and October 13. I have back to back artshows those weekends and just won't be able to handle the stress of updating AND producing/selling pieces and running a show. Thus, there will be threwo more updates before my November-long hiatus kicks in. They will fall on October 20 and October 27.
I will be taking all of the Saturdays in November off, as I always do. Buuuut December first is on a Saturday and I'll have been working on NaNo until the day before that (the 30th), and because I don't think I'll be able to write a chapter in a day, I'm taking December 1 off as well. If I finish NaNo early there's a chance I could have a chapter ready on December 1, but I don't want to risk making promises I can't keep.
Updates, therefore, will resume on December 8 once my NaNo-November hiatus ends.
Thank you everyone for understanding my need for this time off. I have only skipped one weekend update in almost two years (not including my scheduled hiatuses) after the death of my uncle, so the two additional hiatus weeks in October aren't really asking for much in the grand scheme of things. Please understand.
I am also still feeling very, very delicate right now regarding the death of my uncle. There was some drama at the funeral and it hurts. Many thanks to all of you who wished him/my family well during this difficult time. The funeral was on Friday and I spent the time driving out to the service writing this chapter. It was a wonderful distraction, but given how busy I am and how busy I'm about to become (I have a friend visiting from out of state next weekend, followed by two weekends' worth of art shows, and then I'm moving to a new apartment in November), I will need a break to go be by myself for a while. The November hiatus is very well-timed in that regard.
Many thanks to all those who reviewed chapter 81, and to those who wished my uncle and his family well. You sincerely shed light on a dark hour, and getting your well-wishes has meant so much more to me than I can possibly express: disenchanted love, ansegiel, Trinity aellos, DeusVenenare, shen0, xenocanaan, tatewaki2000, DiCuoreAlissa, Marian, rya-fire1, LadyEllesmere, SpeckledOne, IronDBZ, Kaiya Azure, tsaurn, rikku92, Aria2302, EdenMae, C S Stars, Laina Inverse, SterlingBee, MysticWolf71891, Ne Quittez Pas, Anime Pleasegood, tammywammy9, MetroNeko, Vixeona, Sweetfoxgirl13, Blaze 1662001, Ash Blade, TequilaMockinbur, Viviene001, 431101134, HeeHeeHee01, ahyeon, KhaleesiRenee, Turtle Kid the Woolgatherer, Konohamaya Uzumaki, Rigoudon3, KannaKyomu, Hypermuffins, j lol, buzzk97, Choco-Latte64, MangoWoof, silverharafox, general zargon, Evanescent fade, KYnR, SlytherclawQueen, Guest Starring As, Kaylamarie517, WaYaADisi1, Shadowed Replica, lilbee17, UzumakiSeiryl, Just 2 Dream of You, Red Allen Walker, 1Batman4u, jon rich 31, kittenfood and a good number of very kind anonymous guests.
