Warnings: None
Lucky Child
Chapter 85:
"The Dutch Arbitration Gambit"
I suppose, as the demonic crowd eddied and swirled around us, that we must have all frozen in place—Botan out of fear, Shizuru and Atsuko out of shock and surprise, and me out of… well. I wasn't exactly sure. Maybe I was shocked, too. But whatever the case may be, Koenma snorted at our combined reaction and tossed his hair out of his eyes.
He had beautiful eyes, I couldn't help but notice. They were almost gold, a perfect complement to his tanned skin and chestnut hair. He'd clearly chosen his teenage form based on its looks, which I got the sense had been engineered for maximum prettiness. His features were perfectly proportioned, chin delicate but chiseled, nose refined and proportional to his face, eyes almond and ringed by thick lashes. His bronze skin, lustrous and smooth, looked like it had been airbrushed, pores tiny to the point of oddly familiar invisibility—
I glanced at Botan. She had skin just like Koenma's, even if of a different shade. I'd noticed it the first time I saw her, how perfect and unblemished her skin was. Both of them were like dolls, almost, too perfect to be real. Whatever device Spirit World used to make physical bodies for its incorporeal residents, it had the market cornered on nice skin.
Koenma spoke eventually. "Oh, don't look at me like that." Somehow he managed to grin around the bulbous blue pacifier in his mouth. "Did you really think I'd let Spirit World's finest detective come to this dangerous tournament without me, his team's illustrious owner?"
Botan shrank back, halfway hiding behind Shizuru—and then Shizuru shrank back a little, too, though not because of Koenma. A tall demon with blue skin and enormous tusks had stepped up behind Koenma, arms crossed over his broad chest. He wore a fedora and a long trench coat, features below the hat blocky and fierce—but when he uncrossed his arms and began to wring his hands, tusked jaw jutting forward in an anxious pout, I realized who he was: George Saotome, ogre and Koenma's aid. Seemed like the gang was all here.
Botan clung to Shizuru's arm. "B-but, Lord Koenma—" she said, eyes darting from him to the milling crowds and back again. "You can't—I mean, I can't—"
He talked over her like she hadn't spoken. "No, of course I wouldn't." His eyes narrowed when he smiled. "That wouldn't be very princely of me, would it, Botan?"
"No." She let go of Shizuru and backed up a pace, nearly colliding with a demon with purple scales. "No, Koenma-sama, it—"
His smile softened at the edges. "It's all right," he said. "We're fine to talk, at least out here."
Botan's fearful expression shifted to one of surprise. "W-we are?"
"I'm not being watched." Koenma paused, then laughed. "Well, most of the time I am, but in this rancorous crowd I'll be impossible to spot."
"I find that hard to believe."
This came from Shizuru. She stared down the length of her nose at the prince of the underworld with undisguised skepticism, halo of smoke from her cigarette framing her long hair and sharp eyes. Koenma looked her over, but when her intense gaze didn't falter, his smile faded somewhat.
"I assure you, I'm not wrong," he said. "My father is too busy monitoring the activities of the tournament's human backers to pay attention to me."
She appeared unconvinced. "Uh huh."
Not that that affected Koenma. "What can I say?" He shrugged. "I've been a good son lately."
George, meanwhile, looked just about as skeptical as Shizuru. He leaned down (he was quite a bit taller than his boss) and cupped his clawed blue hand over Koenma's ear. "You really think that's right, sir?" he said, hand not muffling his deep voice in the slightest. "Is it true that your father really isn't watching you?"
"I have my ways of knowing," Koenma said, chin raising with undisguised pride—but then he saw Botan's eyes regain their former fear, and he smiled at her again. "And besides," he said, voice lower and more soothing than before. "He certainly has more on his plate than finding one runaway reaper—and he didn't think you'd be so reckless as to appear here, anyway."
Atsuko, standing at my side, crossed her arms and scoffed. "That sounds like a fancy way of calling us stupid."
"Far from it. It was clever, really, to do something so unexpected." A bit of pride entered his expression. "Hiding in plain sight like this is a brilliant—"
"Don't you dare compliment me!"
Koenma stepped back as if struck; Atsuko and I did much the same, though Shizuru held her ground well enough to turn and look at Botan with one brow lifted artfully high. Botan hadn't moved an inch, except for her fists, which had clenched, and her eyes, which had gone the lengthy distance from scared to infuriated in an instant.
"You." She glared at Koenma, the word quavering in her mouth like the metal of a sword struck again stone. "I haven't heard from you in months, and you think it's all right to be nice to me?" She stepped forward, fists shaking at her sides. "You have been absent ever since I was—since I was—"
One fist unclenched. She touched her forehead beneath her bangs almost on reflex. Koenma tracked the motion with his eyes, but otherwise, he did not acknowledge it.
"Botan, please," was all he said. He put up a hand. Started toward her. "Be reasonable."
But that was the wrong thing to say. "Be reasonable?!" she repeated. "You want me to be reasonable, after everything you did?"
"What I did was keep you safe."
"What you did was lock me in a prison and leave me there!" she countered. "You never even visited me! Only Ayame, and George—" She put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, George."
The aforementioned smiled. He doffed his hat and bowed. "Hello, Botan."
She only had eyes for him, then, her ire at Koenma momentarily forgotten. "Oh, George," she repeated with wobbly cadence. "I'm so sorry for what I did. But I had to get out, I had to, I—"
He nodded. "I know you did." George had a nice, rumbly voice, and he gave Botan a kindly smile—one that held apology as much as it did affection. At the sight of it, Botan drew in a hitching breath that sounded suspiciously like the birth of a sob. George said, "I understand, and you don't have to apologize. A bump on the head is a small price to pay. It was terrible the way they kept you—"
Koenma rounded on his assistant and glared. "Hey! Whose side are you on?"
George yelped and danced backward, as if scared Koenma might lash out at him physically—and at the sight of this, not to mention George's yelped "I'm sorry, sir!" something inside me cracked viciously into place.
Something inside Botan apparently did the same. She blinked, banishing her welling tears, and loosed a literal growl. "Don't yell at him!" she rumbled at Koenma. "You treat him just the way you treated me—like we're disposable and unimportant! Well, Koenma, I am not disposable. I am important, even if you don't see it that way." She shook her head, ponytail flapping. "Even if you haven't tried to help me again since I spoke with Ayame so many months ago."
"I never said you weren't important, Botan." Koenma sounded wearily patient, like a preschool teacher on their last legs amongst annoying students. "On the contrary, I—"
Botan wouldn't have it. "You left me in Human World, alone, and you still haven't cleared my name!" she said. Accusation filled her magenta gaze. "You haven't done a thing to bring me back, have you?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "I thought Ayame explained this," he muttered. "Botan, the situation is complicated."
She shook her head again. "No, it isn't." Her voice climbed higher, and higher, with every word she spoke, fists clenching and vibrating in time with her rising tirade. "If you cared, you would've found a way to fix me. If you cared, you would've found a way to prove I'm stable. If you actually cared about me, Koenma, you would have made sure that I can—"
Something sizzled. The scent of ozone filled the air, and from the direction of Botan's hands came a noise like sausages frying in a pan. She gasped and gave a pained groan, clutching her left wrist to her chest. On this wrist glimmered a dainty gold watch. Its face glowed bright blue, illumination turning Botan's pinched face the color of aquarium light. Golden sparks, nearly invisible in broad daylight, skittered up and over her arm, spitting and popping like burning firewood.
"Dude," Atsuko said in my ear. "What the fuck?"
I didn't answer her. Neither did Botan. Now was not the time to explain that that watch, gifted to Botan by Ayame, was a shock collar meant to keep Botan's newfound and violent demonic impulses at bay. Botan took one deep breath, and then another, in through the nose and out through the mouth, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The watch's bright glow lessened, then went out.
"I would not have instructed Ayame to give you that watch," Koenma said when the light died completely, "had I not desired to keep you safe."
Botan's head snapped up, eyes popping open wide. "You told her…?"
He grimaced. "Perhaps 'instructed' is generous. Truthfully, I mentioned that the inhibitor watch existed in her hearing. She stole it and delivered it to you, as I hoped she would." As Botan's eyes widened, he stepped toward her, one hand raised as if to touch her shoulder. "And Botan, Ayame told you all of this already: that I can't bring you back of my own power. That your condition is irreversible. You have to master your powers and earn your place in Spirit World without my help if you want to come back home again."
Botan listened without moving, eyes locked on his face. His fingers skimmed her shoulder—but then he pulled them back, lips thinning into a grim line.
"I know who you are," he said, soft words nearly swallowed by the crowd still washing around our party like a river current. "I know you haven't changed no matter how many extra eyes you've grown." His grimace deepened. "It's my father you have to impress."
Her chin ducked. "Impressing Enma seems impossible."
"Difficult, yes. But not impossible for our best ferry girl." When she didn't reply, or even look pleased by his flattery, Koenma looked her over with a frown of a different nature. "Have you not been—?"
She didn't let him finish. "Of course I've been practicing," she grumbled. "It's just hard, that's all."
"Uh… should we be having this conversation here?"
This query came from George, who hovered at Koenma's elbow like an ironically hesitant bodyguard. Koenma looked over his shoulder at the ogre and opened his mouth, brow knit like he intended to berate George for the question, but then his mouth clamped shut.
"Probably not," Koenma admitted. He reached into the front fold of his blue robe and removed something from it. "Botan. Here."
She reached for his hand and took what he held between his fingers: a small plastic case with a lanyard on it, like the case for a bus pass or something. "What's this?"
"A Team Trainer pass in your name." He smiled when she looked shocked, lips curling behind his ridiculous pacifier. "You might think I don't value you, Botan. But you know that all of your other friends do, and with that, you can be closer to them while they fight. You can support them." Regret flickered in his gold gaze. "The way you supported me for so long."
Her eyes brimmed with tears again, not that I blamed her; this was probably something she'd been wanting to hear from him for a long time. "Lord Koenma…" she said, voice no louder than a whisper. "Thank you."
He nodded; pain, soft and urgent, flashed across his face. "My hands are tied regarding your return to Spirit World. But that doesn't mean I haven't been trying to—never mind." He shook his head, tone turning brusque. "We'll talk again privately, later. Be expecting me, all of you."
Botan said: "No."
She didn't say it loudly, still speaking in that small, desolate whisper—but somehow her voice still carried, and on it I heard an edge of steel that set my shoulders right to tensing.
Koenma tensed, too. "No?" he repeated. "What do you mean, no?"
"I—it's best if you stay away. Like Ayame said." Botan offered him a brave smile, even if it shook, some of her usual bubbly attitude bleeding through again. "You could get in trouble for helping me."
"But Botan—"
She ignored Koenma's protest, instead dipping a low bow in George's direction. "I'm sorry I hit you to escape, George." She turned her bow toward Koenma. "And thank you for the pass, Lord Koenma, but it's better if we keep our distance. I'm sorry."
And with that, she turned and ran. She bolted into the crowd, blue hair obvious even amidst the brightly colored demons she moved between. I started to call out to her, but Atsuko beat me to it. "Botan, wait!" Atsuko bellowed. She tried to follow the reaper, but two large demons blocked her way and she backpedaled toward our group. "Botan, you come back here right now and—"
Shizuru put her hand on Atsuko's arm. "Don't. Let her have her space."
She shook Shizuru off. "It's not that!" Atsuko tried to follow again, but a thick knot of demons chose that moment to walk past, blocking her way. Atsuko threw up her hands and screamed at the sky, "Botan! Botan, wait! You have all our tickets!"
At her words, I gasped.
Shizuru dropped her cigarette.
Koenma put his hand over his face, and George Saotome sighed sighed.
By the time we all caught up to Atsuko's realization, let alone by the time we tried to follow Botan, it was too late. The sight of Botan's blue hair had disappeared, reaper vanishing into the demonic crowd like so much dissipating smoke.
It was cold, and the line was long, and Christa had made me wear high heels—and that, more than anything, was probably why I was in such a shit mood.
Bass thumped past the golden walls of the nightclub before us, loud and heady and dense enough to feel in the roots of my teeth. It was purple, that bass—at least according to my synesthesia—and it clashed terribly with the club's architecture. Christa didn't seem bothered by the noise or architecture. She just muttered to herself as we stood in line, one we'd been in for at least an hour at that point, but we were finally at the front and her muttering had taken on an excited tenor. Justin Bieber had been to this club the night before (… great…), and getting to tag herself here would look great on her Instagram. It was not the first time she had dragged me and Michelle to a nightclub for the sake of her Insta. It probably wouldn't be the last, either, unless visiting a club made famous by Justin Bieber was on the top of her bucket list or something. "Too bad she's not a sick kid who can do Make a Wish," Michelle muttered in my ear as we huddled together for warmth at the front of the line. "Then they'd have to let her in."
The man in the fancy suit who walked up to the front of the line, cut in front of us, and was let into the club right as Michelle spoke certainly didn't look like a Make a Wish kid, either, but that's beside the point.
Christa's jaw dropped when he breezed past the bouncers. We were at the front, had been at the front for ten minutes, had been told by the two gigantic dudes in suits that there would be a long wait to get in, and then that man in the fancy clothes had just… cut in line and waltzed on past us? Christa didn't need to speak for me to know just how upsetting she found this turn of events. Her clenched fists and the way she tossed her carefully straightened hair said it all—and then she said it all as she marched right up to the bouncers, bare legs covered in gooseflesh below the hem of her faux fur coat.
"Really, guys?" she said, glaring. "Really?"
The first bouncer, bald-headed and tall, shrugged. "He's on the list."
"What list?" She stared at his empty hands. "I don't see a list."
"I have it memorized."
"I don't believe you."
The bouncer shrugged again. "He's VIP."
Christa glared, but she backed down. Hard to stand up to a guy at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than you. She sulked back over to our group of friends and grumbled at the ground, painted lips pursed tightly enough to crease her lipstick. And sure, I felt for her, but if this wasn't a sign that we should just give up the ghost and head to House of Pies for a late-night bite and then head home to her apartment for movies (and non-heeled shoes, not to mention pajamas), then I didn't know what was.
Christa sighed. "I really wanted to go here tonight."
Michelle shrugged. "Probably overpriced anyway."
"Not helping." Christa opened the top of her fuzzy jacket and stared thoughtfully at the top of her dress. "Think if I flash him my tits, he'll let us in?"
I voiced a firm "No" at the same time Michelle said "Worth a shot."
Christa rolled her eyes and closed her jacket back up. "I'm kidding." She aimed a thoughtful look over her shoulder at the bouncers. "Maybe if I sweet-talk him a little, though…?"
"Can't hurt to try it," I said.
At once, her jacket opened back up again; Christa shoved her hands into her bra to readjust her boobs. "Let me just fluff up the girls, and…"
Michelle laughed and confirmed that Christa's makeup was still on point when Christa asked, and then Christa injected her walk with so much swagger and panache it was a wonder the velvet rope blocking the way into the club didn't melt into a puddle before her. She put her hand on the bouncer's arm and said something, and then she laughed, but the bouncer remained unmoved.
I leaned over to Michelle. "Hey. Call me on your phone from in your pocket."
Michelle cocked one carefully plucked brow. "Why?"
"Just play along."
Michelle hid her confusion well; she knew when to play it cool, even if she had no fucking clue what was going on. She slid her hand into her purse and felt around for a minute, muttering something about lipstick for effect before pulling out a tube of the aforementioned cosmetic. A few seconds later, my phone started to chime; caller ID showed Michelle's name in bright letters.
I turned to Michelle and waved my glowing phone at her. "Sorry, I gotta take this." I climbed over the velvet rope that kept the club line contained and strode a few feet away—toward the front of the club, where the bouncers stood talking to Christa. I stuffed a finger in one ear and held the phone to my other. "What?" I yelled into the phone, feigning a bad connection; through the line I heard my own voice, distant and shrill, and the sounds of the thumping bass. I pretended to look peeved at what the fake person on the other line was saying. "Oh, fuck off, Jeremy, I'm busy." A beat. "Oh, so now they wanna talk?" I gesticulated for dramatic effect and spun on my heel, affecting agitation so I could sneak a glance at the bouncers. One of them was looking in my direction; I turned away with a stream of curses. "Look, Jeremey, I don't know what to fucking tell you. The Russians rejected Dutch arbitration two days ago and if they really wanted that trade deal to go through without completely fucking over current supply routes—no, I'm not going on hold so you can call them!" I held the phone away from my face and yelled into it, "No, I don't fucking care if I start another goddamn Cold War! You can tell Vlad's little cronies that if they have a problem with their export lifeline, they can call me on Monday. During American fucking business hours, none of this goddamn middle of the night bullshit. Now fuck off and bye."
I hung up with a flourish and cursed again, not bothering to keep my voice down, and eventually I turned back to the club entrance. People were staring, as I'd hoped, and one of the bouncers was whispering in the other's ear. No one was laughing or mocking me, either; seems they'd bought my little fiction, for the most part, which was nice. I'd tried this before with much less success. I kept my feeling of triumph off my face and turned a baleful eye on the bouncers.
"Look, man, are you letting us in our not?" I rubbed a temple and did my best to look exhausted. "Because much like my asshole friends in Moscow, I could really use some cheap fucking vodka to help deal with this fucking—"
The bouncer reached for the velvet rope. "Space just opened." He jerked his head at my friends. "You three, c'mon."
I smiled. "Thank you."
Christa had the good sense not to stare at me with her mouth open, but as soon as we went indoors and found ourselves by the dark coat-check station, she socked my arm. "Girl, what the shit was that?!"
I shrugged. "So it turns out that if you mention Vlad and Russia and the word 'arbitration' in close proximity, it makes you sound important and it tends to scare people into doing what you want and whatnot, so…"
Michelle laughed. "You're a first class liar, y'know that?"
"Oh, I wasn't lying." I took out my phone and started typing, trying to pull up the article I'd published on the subject the week prior. "Russians did actually reject Dutch trade arbitration last week; I had to write this big report at work on it and now—"
"And you use it to get into clubs now," Michelle surmised.
"And to make them work faster at the pharmacy, probably, though I haven't tried that." I beamed. "It has a lot of good practical applications." I held up one warning finger. "But be sure to practice first because I tried to use it to get a table at that new sushi spot downtown and they just laughed at me."
Christa snickered. "Think it'll work at my bank? Gotta go this week."
"Try it and see with my blessing."
She promised to do so, and to let me know of her success. We went into the club itself shortly after that, where Christa took a thousand photos for her Instagram story and made me dance despite how hard it was to walk in the heels she'd lent me. It ended up being a fun night, especially once we had some of that cheap vodka I'd mentioned to the bouncers, but the best part was ending the night at House of Pies for their famous cinnamon rolls and a plate of fried eggs. I ended up not regretting the night out, for the most part, even if after that Christa always insisted I go with her to high-class clubs just in case she wanted to bypass the entry line.
The "Dutch Arbitration Gambit" didn't always work, though.
I'm not nearly as good a liar as Michelle seemed to think I was.
Forest ringed the Dark Tournament stadium, trees edging right up to concrete walkway that surrounded the arena. We picked a specific tree as a meeting spot and then split up to look for Botan, agreeing to meet a half hour later whether we'd located her or not. I just hoped she hadn't gone into the stadium without us, but after 25 minutes of fruitless searching, prospects looked grim (pun unintended, because I was in no mood for jokes). I headed back to the entrance closest to where we'd talked to Koenma and sidled up to the two guards standing on either side of the entrance. They were huge, blue guard uniforms stretched taut across their broad chests and thick bellies, buttons nearly about to burst. Both had horns, but one was purple and the other an alarmingly acidic shade of green. I approached the purple one; the color seemed safer to me for some reason, maybe because it was closer to Botan's hair color and she was the person I was going to ask him about.
"Blue hair?" He had a deep voice, like rocks grating together as they fell down a mountain.
"Yeah, I think I saw someone like that." As my heart leapt in my ribs, he leered at me—or, more specifically, at my chest. "But if you want more information, it'll cost ya a—"
I glowered. "Not on your life, buddy."
He just laughed. I thought about threatening him with bodily harm but decided against it. He'd at least halfway confirmed what I suspected: That Botan had gone inside, and with her, all of our entry tickets. Best not to pay this asshole another minute of attention.
The others had all reached similar conclusions. I found them waiting at the meeting tree, looking disgruntled as they discussed what they had (or, more accurately, hadn't) found during their respective searches. George in particular looked quite distraught, wringing his hat in his large hands as if to squeeze Botan's location from the cloth.
"She has to notice eventually, right?" Atsuko was saying. She'd tied back her hair, in full get-down-to-business mode as she glared up at the stadium with hands planted firmly on her hips. "Like, she'll have to take out her ticket and she'll find the others in her pocket and put two and two together. She has to."
"Who knows?" Shizuru, leaning against the meeting tree, blew out a puff of grey smoke. "She seemed pretty worked up. Obviously wasn't thinking clearly."
Atsuko growled, then wheeled to Koenma. "Hey. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of prince?"
He raised a brow. "Last time I checked."
She lifted a finger toward the stadium as if accusing it of a crime. "Then pull some strings and get us more tickets, huh?"
"Sorry. I'm afraid it doesn't really work like that," Koenma replied with clipped efficiency. "The Tournament has been sold out for months, and even a prince can't make tickets materialize out of thin air."
"Fat load of help you are."
The words slipped out of my mouth unbidden, but even though I'd muttered them, Koenma's ears were sharp. He turned on his heel to stare at me, brow lifting higher and higher with every passing second. "Excuse me?" he said. "I must have misheard you, because I could have sworn you just—"
"Oh, you heard me." It was too late to back down now, or so I felt. I squared my feet and tried to look at him down my nose despite his height. "Can't help Botan, can't help us—what good are you?"
Atsuko blanched. "Uh, Keiko?" she said, sidling up beside me. "Remember he's royalty?"
"Yes, royalty!" George stepped forward and frowned, meaty arms crossed again. "You must address Lord Koenma with proper respect and reverence!"
"Or what?" I said. "Respect is earned, last time I checked, and this sorry excuse for a prince hasn't done anything to earn mine."
Atsuko hissed something at me that sounded suspiciously like a "shut up," and beside Koenma George's face turned a startling shade of incensed navy. Koenma himself, however, appeared unperturbed. He merely sighed, as if tired by my very presence.
"Ah, yes," he said. "Ayame has told me you aren't a fan of mine."
"To put it mildly."
"And what is it, pray tell, that I've done to offend you so severely?"
"You send children to war on your behalf without apology, for one thing."
George gasped. Even Atsuko reacted, doing a double-take at me like I'd grown a second nose between my eyebrows. Only Shizuru didn't react, taking a slow and steady drag off her cigarette without flinching. Koenma himself pressed his lips into a thin line, lines etching across the perfect skin of his smooth forehead.
"Need I remind you," he said, words like a razor's edge, "that I also engineered the return of a certain child to life?"
"Only so he could fight demons for you and put that returned life on the line again and again to serve your daddy's sordid goals, but OK, sure," I snarked. "Whatever you wanna say to make yourself feel better, that's fine."
It was Koenma's turn to do a double-take. "My daddy's—?"
His surprise grated on my nerves; I bristled on reflex. "Yeah, your morally bereft asshole father's—"
A hand alit on my elbow. "Calm down, Keiko," Shizuru said in a puff of smoke-tinged breath.
"I will not calm down." I wrenched my arm away; Shizuru put her hand in her pocket and went back to leaning on her chosen tree. "He's basically abandoned Botan, he's the entire reason your brother and your son" (here I looked at Atsuko) "are both fighting for their lives, and—"
Shizuru shook her head. "Kuwabara and Yusuke can handle themselves. They'll be fine."
"Yeah, Keiko," Atsuko concurred. "Don't worry so much." She flexed, although her muscles remained invisible beneath her coat. "Our boys'll kick demon ass, you'll see."
"Agreed," said Shizuru. "So calm down, OK?"
It was tough to remain agro in the face of Atsuko's carefree grin and Shizuru's unflappable calm. I looked between them once, twice, and then a third time, but the anger leeched from my chest with every passing moment. Eventually my shoulders sagged, and it was all I could do to mutter an irritated, "Fine."
Koenma looked pleased. "Thank you for defending me, Shizuru, Atsuko. I knew you could see reason."
Shizuru's hand, halfway to her mouth, paused. "Oh, I'm not defending you," she said in a voice like a winter wind. "I agree with Keiko completely."
"So do I," said Atsuko. She marched up to Koenma and jabbed a finger at his chest, not caring when he jumped back a pace and tried to dodge her jab. "You mighta brought my kid back to life, but don't think for a second that I'm not gonna interrogate Keiko and Botan about just how deep of a shit-hole you've buried my Yusuke in just as soon as I get a chance." She fair loomed over him, the specters of beaten-up boyfriends past practically floating over her head as she gave her very best Yakuza-intimidation leer. "And if that shit is too damn deep, Koenma…"
The threat lingered on the air, clear as day, even before she slapped one fist into her other hand and twisted her knuckles against her palm, grinning a grin that did not touch her eyes. Koenma eyed her fist and gulped, opening his mouth to deny the presence of any Spirit-World-induced shitpiles.
Before he could, though, Shizuru straightened up and looked around with a frown. "That'll have to wait for later," she said. "Demons are starting to stare, and we already stand out as it is."
And she was right (which wasn't surprising; Shizuru was most always right). A few knots of demons standing about near the edge of the concrete walkway that surrounded the stadium had started to eyeball our little group, most of their gazes (some with many eyes, some with as few as one, all of them strange colors set in stranger faces) trained on Koenma. Seeing this, he harrumphed and straightened his shoulders, sending his red cloak swirling about his calves in a cascade of scarlet fabric.
"Time for us to part ways, it seems," Shizuru muttered.
"Yes. A prudent decision." Koenma bowed, manners as expected of a prince. "I'll be seeing you ladies later."
Shizuru's eyes narrowed. "If Botan wants that, you mean."
Koenma started to protest, but Atsuko shook her head and punched her fist into her hand again. "She's our girl," she said with a pointed glare. "What she says, goes."
"Seconded," I chimed in.
"Thirded," said Shizuru.
Koenma looked perturbed, but only for a moment. He adjusted his cloak again and smoothed his hair from his eyes. "I… I see." He dipped another bow. "Very well. I commend your loyalty, if nothing else."
"Hmph. How diplomatic of you." Shizuru flicked her smoldering cigarette butt at his feet—a clear dismissal if I ever saw one, which she punctuated with a flippant, "See ya round."
With that said, Shizuru turned on her heel and walked away. Only she would have the cool to turn her back on a demigod and march off like he didn't matter to her a lick. I watched her leave with a smile, and when Atsuko started off in Shizuru's wake, I made to follow the pair of them away through the crowd.
But that wasn't meant to be, because before I could take two steps, Koenma said, "Keiko. Wait."
I glanced at him over my shoulder. "What?"
"What did you mean when you mentioned my father's sordid goals?"
His stare had the quality of a laser pointer, steady and bright and unflinching. Under its weight I felt my neck prickle with nerves, but I held steady and merely shrugged.
"Nothing," I said. "I didn't mean anything by it."
He remained unconvinced. "You have never met him. You hadn't even met me until today," he pressed, taking one smart step toward me. "Yusuke is ignorant of Spirit World affairs. To what were you alluding, and how in the three worlds could you possibly know about it?"
Another shrug, even as my heart stuttered a bit in my chest. "Educated guesswork, mostly." Pointedly, so I wouldn't have to lie further, I turned away. "But that's a story for another time. Gotta go."
"… fine." He sounded unsatisfied, but he didn't push. "Take care, Keiko."
"I will."
I fully intended to walk away after that. I intended to walk away, follow Shizuru and Atsuko through the crowd, and leave Koenma—with all the things I didn't like about him, not to mention the awkward questions he was asking—behind me.
But at the last second, I paused.
"Oh," I said, without turning around. "And thanks for the upgrade."
A pause followed. Koenma said: "Upgrade?"
"Our room. It got upgraded." I chanced a glance at him when he did not reply, looking askance over my shoulder with just one eye. "I just assumed…"
His chin ducked closer to his chest, golden eyes hooded beneath his perfect bronze brow. "Your educated guesswork isn't so impressive after all, it seems."
My heart stuttered again. "What?"
"I didn't upgrade anything." His cloak swirled when he turned and walked away, George trotting at his heels. "Be seeing you."
Atsuko and Shizuru had to double back for me. I was frozen to the spot, too scattered to remember that I needed to follow them and not get lost. Thank my lucky stars they have better memories than Botan and didn't accidentally leave me behind. Atsuko muttered something in my ear about not looking like such a tourist as she tugged me along, over to one of the stadium entry gates and the TV area beside it. A gigantic patchwork of screen displayed the arena within, which was currently occupied by fighting demons I did not recognize.
Even if the TVs had shown images of my friends fighting, it's possible I wouldn't have had the wherewithal to pay attention to them, either.
If Koenma hadn't upgraded our room, the alternative responsible parties were ones I didn't like to think about.
Shizuru didn't give me time to ponder the possibilities, however. We stood near the trees again, the TV watching area spread out before us, the entry gate over to our right, the curve of the stadium extending off to our left. Demons clustered around the TV and cheered as punches flew; a few pockets of demons sat on the ground by the trees near which we'd gathered, but Shizuru paid them no heed as she looked at Atsuko and me and said, "So what now?
"Beats me," Atsuko said. From inside the stadium we hear a loud cheer, punctuated by an ecstatic exclamation over some kind of booming speaker system. The voice was high pitched and feminine—Koto, I assumed, commentating on the game, her voice echoing out of the stadium's open top and into the air beyond. Atsuko looked up at the sky and frowned as Koto gave a delighted scream. "Don't suppose they'd let us use their PA system, huh? Call Botan out for leaving us?"
"Doubt it." Shizuru lit up another cigarette, that ever-present accessory she was rarely seen without. After a long drag she said, "If only we had some way to call her, tell her to come back."
I resisted the urge to make a crack about investing in Apple stock; what I wouldn't have given for an iPhone just then, even if I was more a Samsung girl myself. "Yeah," is what I settled on saying. "Too bad we didn't think to bring the communication mirrors. They're back in the hotel."
The stress of all this was too much for Atsuko, it seemed. She made a wordless sound of frustration before plopping onto one of the concrete benches at the edge of the stadium patio and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Shizuru sat beside her, the pair of them puffing like a pair of chimneys until the air around them turned blue with smoke. I edged away and out of the smoke field as best I could, over toward a group of three demons playing a dice game on the ground. They glanced up at me when I neared, but I guess I looked both nonthreatening and not tasty, because they went back to their game without a word.
Shizuru eyed the top of the stadium and sighed. "Ironic that out of all of us, it's Botan who can fly."
Atsuko did a double-take. "Botan can fly?"
"Oh." Shizuru knocked some ash off her cigarette. "Yeah, she can."
Atsuko bolted to her feet. "Why didn't anyone tell me? That's crazy!" she said. "Think she could teach me, huh? Bet it beats sitting around in traffic!"
I frowned, because that was a bit of YYH lore I wasn't sure I'd thought about before. "I don't know, actually, if that's a learned skill or something all reapers can do. She's got this oar, and—"
"Wait. Reaper." Atsuko scowled. "I heard Koenma call her that, too, but Yusuke never mentioned it. Botan was always just his assistant."
I blinked. "Did he really not explain this when Botan came to stay with you?"
"You really think Yusuke would give me details? That kid, the destined middle school dropout?" She laughed at her own joke before getting serious. "I knew something shady was going on ever since he came back to life, but I knew better than to ask questions." (I wanted to ask if she learned that from her Yakuza associations but demurred.) "All I knew was that Yusuke was part of something fishy, and then I overheard that my kid was about to go fight demons on an island and that Botan was in on it. That's all I got." She gave Shizuru and me a dead-fish stare. "You wanna fill me in on everything?"
Shizuru sighed, but without complaint she launched into the basics—Spirit World, Koenma, Botan, grim reapers, demons. She kept it simple but comprehensive, and I'm frankly glad she took point because I wasn't sure where I would've begun if the explanation had been left to me alone. It was a lot of information to digest, and I'd forgotten Atsuko hadn't been clued in on a lot of it, but I was happy to note that she took it all in with her trademark devil may care style and a grin. She and Shizuru finished their cigarettes and lit up another round, Atsuko asking the occasional question as Shizuru explained the finer points of spirit energy, who the members of Team Urameshi were, and sundry.
I wandered a bit further off as they talked, because Shizuru had it on lock and I was in danger of secondhand smoke asphyxiation. The demons who'd gathered around the gigantic TV were still cheering, but the crowd there had lessened, peeling off and drifting to our left to gather in a big bunch that blocked the entire path around the stadium. Demons peered over each other's heads, leaning on each other's shoulder and trying to scramble forward through the crowd with various grunts and verbal threats of violence if they didn't get out of their goddamn way. I scanned the crowd with interest; maybe the green-scaled scalper demon from the anime had arrived and was selling tickets. I sure would like it if the crowd had gathered to see him. Hell, I know I'd be glad to see him. We'd only need one ticket to get in and find Botan, after all.
Botan. I sighed and rubbed my temples at the thought of her. Botan had seemed more optimistic about her situation regarding her eye when we'd first talked to Ayame after Botan escaped Spirit World, but she had blown up on Koenma badly enough to send her running into the stadium without us. I hadn't realized she was so upset by her situation. She must have been lonelier than I realized, to react that way—and maybe this was unfair of me to say, but I had never thought of Botan as the type to be good at hiding her emotions. How had I missed how badly she was feeling? How had I not noticed her fragile state of mind?
Shit. Some friend I was, huh?
From behind me, several yards away, I heard Atsuko's voice drift through the sounds of the crowd; I turned back and wandered toward my friends again. "And so what was Botan talking about, not being able to go home to Spirit World?" Atsuko was saying as I drew close. "Yusuke just told me she had to stay with us because she had no place to stay, and I've been a homeless teenager before, so…"
"She got cut by a demonic sword," said Shizuru. Her voice remained remarkably unemotional as she explained, "It started to turn her into a demon. Now she's halfway between demon and reaper, by the looks of it, and they're afraid of her in Spirit World."
Atsuko winced. "That shit sucks. Was it even her fault?"
"No. An accident."
"If anything, the fault is mine."
It was turning into a banner day for me to speak without thinking. Atsuko and Shizuru looked up at me in surprise. I put my back to them at once, face heating up on reflex.
But it was no use. Shizuru said, "What do you mean, it's your—?"
Whatever she said next, though, was drowned out in a tidal wave of sound. The crowd that had gathered over to our left had begun to roar, its mass churning and bucking as demons tried to climb over one another in an attempt to get at—well, at whatever they were gathered around to look at; it's not like I could see it from where I stood. It didn't help that a demon ran past me and collided with my shoulder, too, nearly knocking me to the ground in his haste to join the others.
"Hey!" Atsuko yelled after the demon. She bolted to her feet and shook her fist after him. "Watch where you're going!"
The demon kept running, but his reptilian face turned over his shoulder so he could scream back, "You watch it! I ain't lettin' nobody stop me from seein' Team Masho up close!"
"Team who?" Atsuko said.
"Another set of fighters, I guess," said Shizuru.
Atsuko stared at the crowd with renewed interest. "Here to check out the competition, eh?"
"Probably."
I barely heard either of them, though. I, too, had begun to stare at the crowd with renewed interest, because while the name of the team meant nothing to them, it meant a hell of a lot to me.
Team Masho, huh?
Well, now. This was about to get interesting.
Not that I dared try to get a closer look at the shinobi, though, given the way crowd was continuing to grow in size as more and more demons came pelting down the walkway. Shizuru grabbed Atsuko and I and pulled us over to the bench, out of harm's way, where we sat and watched the crowd swell and scream and punch each other for a better spot. If the crowd hadn't been full of gigantic demons, it would've looked like girls swarming a boy band for autographs.
Atsuko clapped her hands over her ears. "I can barely hear myself think!"
"Team must be pretty popular," Shizuru said.
"Favorites to win, according to some."
The voice came from nearby; the three dice-playing demons from before had likewise moved out of the path and nearer to the tree line, sitting just a few feet away from our bench. The one who'd spoken was a big furry guy with a face like an Anubis hound, black ears standing straight upright atop his domed skull. He tossed a fistful of dice up and down as he looked at the burgeoning crowd, canine face arranged in an expression that resembled human annoyance with surprising accuracy.
"Damn," said the dog-demon to himself. "Not getting close to them today, that's for sure."
I smiled. "You hoping for an autograph?"
He looked at me, then did a double-take that looked quite odd on a dog's face. "A human, here?"
"Try three of them." I jerked a thumb at my friends. "What's it to ya?"
He grinned. "Not much. Just surprised, is all. It's not often you see humans all the way out here to watch the—"
Before he could finish, there came a shout, and we looked as once over to the crowd again. A weird crackle of black light shot up from beyond the throng, arcing into the sky with a sound like thunder. A few demons flew upward and back, some vanishing into the forest while others smacked against the side of the stadium above the crowd. The crowd went silent at once; when the demons how'd hit the wall fell down again, I heard the meaty thump of their bodies against pavement even from where I stood.
Then, amidst the silence, someone boomed: "OUT OF OUR WAY, MAGGOTS."
The crowd parted like water before Moses. It was so quiet, the only sound the muffled roar of spectators inside the stadium, that you could hear the heavy footfalls of the demons in dark robes who came waking out of the divided horde. The crowd watched in tense silence as these demons walked through and then out of the mass, steps slow and unhurried despite their violent request for a clear path forward.
"Heh." Atsuko crossed her arms and smirked. "Showboating a bit, huh?"
The dog demon we'd perhaps befriended nodded. "Maybe. But they're strong enough to get away with it."
They certainly looked intimidating enough to get away with it, in their black robes with the pointed, conical hoods with colorful symbols painted on the front. The one with the gold ring on his hood I knew was their leader, Risho, but the others I had to identify based on what I remembered of their heights and builds. The huge guy with the yellow stole had to be Bakken, the guy with the upside down triangle was probably Gama… or was that Jin? The green circle hood and the triangle hood were about the same height, and those hoods were not helping matters at all when it came to determining build. Plus, I couldn't remember if Touya or Gama was taller, but I thought Touya was the shortest, which meant he had to be the one wearing the hood with the creepy cross on the front…
Well. It probably didn't matter. The demons kept a respectful distance from the hooded fighters no matter who wore which hood, murmuring amongst themselves as the fighters passed. "Shinobi," I heard someone say in hushed tones. "Shinobi, all the way from the depths of Demon World…"
A wind stripped by, then, ruffling my hair. Something about that wind stirred a memory, and with a jolt I looked from Team Masho to the top of the stadium and back again—and then I glanced at Shizuru.
"What was it you said?" I muttered. "Ironic that Botan is the only one who can...?"
And that's when I remembered the Dutch Arbitration Gambit. The memory hit me like a brick to the face. I gaped, staring at Shizuru with eyes bugging, until she noticed me and scowled.
"What?" she said.
"I. Uh." I swallowed. "I have a plan."
Her brow lifted. "A what?"
"Just go with it, OK?"
She stared at me, mystified, but I didn't let her skepticism deter me in the slightest. Instead I put my back to Team Masho and backed away from Shizuru a pace or two, out into the middle of the path near where Team Masho, still a dozen yards away, would soon be walking. I heaved a heavy sigh and clasped my hands over my chest, giving a low moan of disappointment just for good measure as I did.
"Dangit, Shizuru, isn't this just all the rotten luck!" I said with another weary sigh. "Now I'll never get to see Jin fight!"
"Uh…" She took a drag on her cigarette and crossed one leg over the other, not bothering to look sympathetic. "That's too bad, I guess?"
Atsuko frowned. "Wait a minute. Who's Jin?"
I gasped and put a hand over my chest. "Who's Jin, you ask? The Wind Master?" I let my voice climb to theatric heights before throwing up my hands in aggravation. "Atsuko, I'm shocked! He's only the best fighter on Team Masho—and the cutest demon at the tournament, to boot!"
The dog demon, still standing near us, stepped toward me with hands raised (and he, bless him, looked interested in what I had to say, not confused the way my friends did). "The cutest?" he repeated, doggy face amused. "Most girls say Shishiwakamaru takes that prize, don't they?"
"Well, not to me!" I thrust my nose into the air, disdain dripping from every syllable when I said, "Shishiwakamaru is a pretty boy, sure, but Jin—he's got abs of steel and great hair! Not to mention those big blue eyes of his." I made sure to heave a wistful sigh and clasp my hands under my chin. "What I would've give to see those eyes up close. And he can even fly, y'know? How cool is that!"
Sighing yet again-again, making sure to bat my lashes just in case, I turned around to lob a wistful stare at Team Masho—but to my chagrin, they'd walked past while my back was turned, heading without stopping for the gate over to our right. I said a few more complimentary things at their retreating backs, playing up just how great and strong and cute Jin was—but they never turned around, and soon they entered the stadium and disappeared from view. At that I heaved a real sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance.
"Dammit," I said. "There goes that head-canon."
"That what?" Shizuru asked.
"Oh, nothing." I threw up my hands and whined. "Dammit, I really thought that would work!"
"Thought what would work?" Atsuko said. "Seriously, what were you trying to do just now?"
"And how do you know the names of the Team Masho fighters?" Shizuru added after a moment's pause.
I froze. Atsuko and Shizuru stared with twin expressions of skepticism mixed with dour curiosity. Even our new dog-man friend was looking at me funny. Beneath their gazes I could only fidget, unnerved and nervous, because I had only had a minute to enact my plan and that minute had not been enough time to consider the consequences of The Dutch Arbitration Gambit: Dark Tournament Edition in full, let alone concoct some kind of excuse as to why I'd known details about Jin the Wind Master without ever actually see him fight or—
A shadow, cool and dark, flashed over the ground at my feet. A wind picked up hard enough to send my skirt to tossing; I held it down with a yelp, and when I looked up again and smoothed my messy hair back into place, I saw the dog-demon staring up at the blue sky overhead with a frown.
"Did you three just see…?" he said.
"Psst!"
As the dog-demon turned toward the stadium, looking for the source of the shadow, that hiss came again from the trees at my back. Atsuko and Shizuru hear it, too, looking around for the source—and then a single hand thrust itself from around the nearest tree trunk and crooked one finger at us.
"Oi!" came a low, hushed voice. "Over here!"
I blinked.
Atsuko and Shizuru stared.
Slowly, I lifted a hand and pointed at myself. "You, ah." A beat. "You talkin' to me?"
"Yes, I'm talkin' t' you!" The finger crooked at me more frantically. "Quick like a bunny, now, 'afore I'm spotted!"
It was, of course, the sketchiest thing that had ever happened to me in my life, being asked to walk into the dark woods by a disembodied voice and an insistent finger, but after trading a long look with Shizuru and Atsuko, the three of us shrugged in unison and threw caution to the collective wind (pun most definitely intended, as you will soon see). We picked our ginger way past the bushes lining the stadium's concrete and into the trees beyond, finding ourselves in a little clear pocket in the woods where warm light filtered through gaps in the trees above. It took my eyes a minute to adjust, but soon enough I saw a silhouette standing partially behind the trunk of a nearby tree. I tensed on reflex at the sight, but soon my shoulders relaxed.
The light had caught on a strand of bright red hair, and at the sight of it, I couldn't help but feel at ease.
"'Ello, love," he said, still standing hidden in the shadows. "Was it you who was talkin' about good ol' Jin the Wind Master, eh?"
Shizuru's hand closed around my elbow. "Keiko. Who's this?"
The man behind the tree laughed. "Keiko, eh? Lovely name for a lovely lady, if you don't mind my sayin' so."
"Yeah yeah, dude." Atsuko appeared at my other elbow, glaring at the silhouette like she intended to set it on fire with her eyes. "But who the hell are you supposed to be, anyway?"
"What, ain't it obvious?" One hand thrust forward, and from it dangled a bit of black cloth—cloth marked with a little white triangle that looked quite familiar indeed. Unperturbed by Atsuko's stare, he said, "Or maybe it's not that obvious after all, walkin' 'round with hoods o'er our 'eads all the live-long day and such. Risho ought to be re-thinkin' our uniforms because, oh sure, they be a-hidin' our faces well enough, I suppose, but walkin' through crowds is a right conspicuous affair in this getup, no two ways about it, and isn't that the exact opposite 'o what he wants?"
"… anybody ever tell you, you talk a lot?" Shizuru observed.
"Oh, it's been mentioned a time or two, as I recall." He laughed like wind chimes on a breeze, musical and merry. "If Bakken wasn't such a bleedin' coward—because he is exactly that, and a big ol' fraidy cat on top o' that, too—he'd tell me to shut up all the time. But he is afraid of me so he doesn't tell me to shut up, because he knows I pack a mean ol' wallop and—"
His good-natured tirade came to a halt as the bushes behind me rattled. From them stumbled our dog-friend, whose dark eyes lit up as they caught sight of us. "Hey, you three. Did you see—?" But he froze before he finished, one paw coming up to point at the silhouette we still had not seen clearly. Still, the dim lighting didn't confuse the dog in the slightest, because in a voice quavering with certainty he said, "Y-you! It's you!"
"Oh good, someone who might actually end the suspense," Shizuru griped. Her head jerked toward the man in the trees. "You got a name for Mister Mysterious over there?"
"O-of course I do!" He gulped before declaring, "That's Jin! That's Jin the Wind Master!"
The figure in the trees laughed again, and just as musically as before. "Aye, that I am!" he said. "And ol' Jin here's fair giddy to know that he's got fans all the way out in Human World!" he declared—and then he stepped, grinning, into the light.
NOTES
This was supposed to come out yesterday, but there was a family emergency I don't have the heart to discuss yet and it kept me from updating. 2018 has been rough. I had a long note about my hiatus prepped for this chapter, but instead I'll just be brief.
I have a headcanon about Jin that IDK if everyone agrees with, but it's one I'll be exploiting (um, exploring) in this fic. More on that, next time.
We now enter biweekly update territory. I'll see you again on Dec. 23 (Sunday; it's the fic's birthday and I want to post the next chapter on its birthday for the fun of it). Will update on biweekly Saturdays after that.
Over my break, I started posting chapters of The Ghost in You, the KuwabaraxOC fanfic I've been hinting at on Tumblr for months. It's also going to have biweekly updates, alternating weekends with Lucky Child, so you'll have something to read from me each week no matter what. I hope you check it out.
Many thanks to those who reviewed while I was away on hiatus; I really enjoyed hearing from you: Deamochi, Kaiya Azure, Anime Pleasegood, Lady Ellesmere, Laina Inverse, xenocanaan, balancewarlord, Wowza48, Cherrybobomb, read a rainbow, ahyeon, shen0, SterlingBee, DiCuoreAlissa, No Idea What to Name This, Marian, DeusVenenare, SlytherclawQueen, 431101134, buzzk97, MetroNeko, rya-fire1, IronDBZ, giant salamander, C S Stars, sweet fox girl 13, Tammywammy9, Dark Rose Charm, Blaze1662001, general zargon, kitty-ryn, WaYaADisi1, rosechan27, Neko-Mitsuko, Tequilamockinbur, Biku-sensei-sez-meow, Dancing on Cloude of Sorrow, almostNEET, Konohamaya Uzumaki, Ally Kenshin, Just 2 Dream of You, wing of butterfly and a guest!
