Warnings: None


Lucky Child

Chapter 93:

"Tickets"


We taught Yukina to play "go fish" and stayed up playing cards till midnight, whereupon Botan rose from her seat and announced that it was high time for everyone go to bed. Yusuke grumbled about this, of course, but Botan remained unmoved in the face of his mutterings.

"You need to go to bed now so you can wake up early tomorrow," she told him as he rolled his eyes. "There's a match early tomorrow that you'd do well to observe—it's good to get a read on the competition, you know!—and you won't want to get out of bed if you don't turn in early." She giggled behind her hand. "I've seen you on school mornings, after all. You're a lump!"

Yusuke glared (and stifled a yawn, but badly, which meant Botan had won the argument fair and square).

Since Kuwabara had insisted we stay in the boys' suite ("For your own protection!" he insisted, ignoring the fact that his sister was a Grade A Badass and could defend us on her own, a fact said sister reminded him of in increasingly dry tones every time he conveniently forgot about her powers) some adjusting had to be done to the boys' previous sleeping arrangements. Botan and I were to share the queen-sized bed that had previously belonged to Kurama; Shizuru slept in her brother's old bed; Atsuko took her son's; Yukina (quite ironically) was given Hiei's bed in the room he shared with Kurama. Apparently the Masked Fighter had slept nowhere, or maybe on the couch, because there were only four beds for five fighters and no one could tell me where she'd slept the previous nights.

"And speaking of people not sleeping in their beds," I said as Kurama and I went into his bedroom to grab his things and carry in my duffle bag. "I don't think Hiei slept here last night, either."

Sure enough, the bed by the windows remained untouched. Maid service had made all the beds in the suite while we were away at the fights, but Kurama's was rumpled (and perhaps blood-spattered, if the telltale red pinpricks on the golden comforter were to be believed; perhaps he'd sat there to tend to his vine-infested veins). Hiei's bed was utterly perfect, comforter smooth and totally ignored.

"So it seems," Kurama said in his typical pleasant tones. His suitcase sat in the room's corner; he grabbed it and vanished into the bathroom to fetch his toothbrush, or whatever it was he wanted. From inside the tiled room he called, "Hiei dislikes being inside, as far as I know."

I nodded absently as I wandered toward Hiei's bed. "He prefers a tree to a mattress, probably." I sat on the bed and gave an experimental bounce or three. "Oh, yeah. This is way too soft for him."

Kurama's head appeared in the bathroom doorway. "You think so?" he said, one red brow rising.

"Yeah. Most he'll want is a futon on the floor, probably." I smiled and patted the coverlet; Kurama's head disappeared into the bathroom again. "But he tends to sleep against a wall even when a futon is available."

Kurama's head whipped back into view, both brows raised now.

"He comes and sleeps on my floor when it rains," I explained, and then I frowned. "You didn't know that?"

"I suppose not."

"Well. He does." I smiled again. "He's just like Sorei like that. Stray cat syndrome and whatnot, coming and going as he pleases."

Kurama's brows lowered. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, footsteps brushed against the carpet; he withdrew into the bathroom as Botan and Yukina walked in, and soon the sound of the faucet hissed through the open doorway.

Botan had the good sense not to walk in on Kurama in the bathroom, open door notwithstanding. "Kurama, I'm so sorry to kick you out of your own room," she called to him as she hovered near the foot of his bed. "If you think you need it after the injuries you incurred in your match—"

"It's all right, Botan." He leaned out of the bathroom, wet and toothpaste-smeared toothbrush in hand; somehow he managed to make the toothbrush look glamorous, like an intentional movie prop and not a simple hygiene tool. "I volunteered to give up my bed. The couch will be fine."

Botan's lips pursed. "Still…"

"I can sleep on the couch instead, Kurama-san. I truly don't mind," Yukina added.

But Kurama shook his head, and firmly, though he continued to smile as he made assurances. He put down his toothbrush to help Botan carry a bag into the room, and as the three of them arranged the room and helped Kurama gather the last of his possessions, I slipped out the door and into the living room. Yusuke and Kuwabara were putting out futons, which we'd earlier requested from the hotel, while Shizuru gave them directions and criticism. They didn't notice me as I skimmed the ice bucket off the counter in the kitchen, and no one said anything as I carried the bucket to the suite's door and went into the hall with a soft call of, "Be right back; need ice."

Truthfully, I wasn't after ice. The bucket was just an alibi, because I was relatively certain I wouldn't be allowed to leave the room without a good reason or an escort. And when it came to the latter, I definitely felt I should go without.

The trip downstairs to the hotel lobby was uneventful. The lobby was quiet at this time of night, though in the distance I heard a strain of thumping bass; probably a party for the tournament's backers, if I had to guess. I ignored the steady throb of music as I approached the gilt front desk and smiled at the woman sitting behind it. She wasn't Otoha, sadly, but she still offered me a polite smile as I set the ice bucket on the polished tabletop.

"Hello," I said as I tried to ignore the reflection of my face in the desk's mirror-glossy wood. "I'm sorry to impose, but I need to make a phone call and I'm not sure if the phone in my room—"

She was already on her feet. "It's no imposition. If you'll follow me."

The woman led me across the lobby to a large set of wooden double doors; above them gleamed a golden sign engraved with a telephone symbol. Beyond the doors lay a long room lined with rows of telephone booths, maybe about 30 in all. These boxes were made of glass with folding doors on their fronts, which I assumed were intended to afford occupants the minor illusion of privacy. My guide led me to one of these booths and ushered me inside to sit on the velvet-cushioned bench within. She informed me that calls here were complimentary just as I began to wonder how much spare change I had in my purse upstairs and just before I noticed that the payphone didn't have a slot for coins.

"Will you be calling Japan?" she asked as I settled in.

"Yes."

"I'll connect you via the front desk." Her words sounded quite rehearsed, even if they were cheery. "Please wait until you hear a dial tone before placing your call."

And then she left me alone, high heels clicking against the tile floor. I took the phone off of the hook, cradling it between my cheek and my shoulder as I nudged the glass door shut with a toe and waited to hear a tone. When one sounded, I input a phone number on the rotary dial below the phone's hook. The hiss of the spinning wheel filled the glass booth with a sound like wind-driven rain; the hairs rose on my arms, but when the phone rang and was promptly picked up on the other end, the warmth in my chest chased the chill away. "It's me," I said. "What's up?"

Minato hummed. "So they do have phone on the island, I see."

"And free long-distance calls, at that."

"How generous," he said. "Would you like to connect to Kagome as well?"

"Sure."

There was a pause, and then there came a musical chime before more ringing sang over the line. I wasn't entirely sure if this was a standard three-way call or if I owed the conference call to Minato's moon technology, but I suspected it was the latter when Kagome picked up and her voice came through the receiver with crystalline clarity.

"Eeyore! Thank god!" she yelped when I said hello. Something rustled and creaked, like maybe she'd thrown herself across her bed. "I was worried you'd been eaten alive!"

"Not quite yet, I'm afraid."

"How goes it?" Minato asked.

"Yeah! Tell us everything!" said Kagome.

I took a very deep breath. It was time to rip the band aid off. "An old friend is here," I said—and at once, silence filled the line to the brim. For quite some time, no one spoke. Eventually, though, Kagome heaved a heavy sigh. She and Minato both knew exactly which 'old friend' I was talking about, and both were intensely aware that I was being as sarcastic as the cast of Saturday Night Live.

"… shit," Kagome said, along with some other, more colorful swears.

"As expected," Minato said when she was through. Cold precision informed each word he spoke. "Have you managed to say hello?"

"Not yet. Working on it." I huddled against the side of the phone booth and wrapped my free arm around myself with a grunt. "Not sure what I'll do or say when I get a chance, but…"

Another grim silence followed. We'd spoken at length of what we'd do or say if we ever got the chance to speak with Hiruko, and for the life of us, we'd never quite been able to nail it down. There was still so much we didn't know, after all. Yelling at him and demanding answers was the logical thing to do, but without knowing the context in which we'd get that chance…

"Tread carefully," Minato advised.

"Or here's a better idea: Kick his ass for me?" Kagome countered.

I couldn't keep a grin off my face when Minato muttered Kagome's name, annoyed but unable to keep the smile from his voice. "Roger that," I said as Kagome giggled. "Will keep you both updated."

"On another note," Minato said. "I suppose they must have made it through a few matches at this point."

"Yeah." I swallowed. "Three teams down, two to go."

"And how did they fare?"

"They fared… unexpectedly."

"Oh," Kagome said. Then she paused. She followed this pause with another, more horrified: "Oh!"

"Ominous," Minato concurred. "Care to elaborate?"

Another swallow; another deep breath. "Well, they made it through their first fight all right." I tried to keep my tone light and breezy as I said, "Yusuke beat a demon named Chu. Kurama beat a demon named Risho. And then Kuwabara won his fight with Rinku."

There followed an extremely pregnant pause.

Then Kagome squeaked: "… what do you mean, he won?"

"He won." Another band aid needed to be ripped off, so I very quickly added, "And Hiei's match with a fire demon named Zeru was a draw."

"WHAT?!" Minato and Kagome chorused; I yanked the phone away from my ringing ear with a curse.

"That's—that's—I don't even know what that is!" Kagome said, ignoring me completely. "Holy cow!"

"These results are… definitely unexpected, to put it mildly," Minato said with only a fraction more restraint. "How did this even happen?"

It was somewhat difficult to explain the details without giving away the fact that they knew half of the stuff I wanted to talk about already, but in the event that we had eavesdroppers, it was imperative I fill in all of the storytelling gaps that they'd need me to fill in if they weren't already "in the know"—and to anyone listening, there was no way for them to be "in", so I had to treat them like they were "out". We had discussed this ahead of time, naturally, and they waited with patience (and appropriate reactions, mostly from the enthusiastic Kagome) as I recapped my experience at the tournament thus far. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) there were enough differences from canon to make this playacting somewhat natural, and their interest in what I had to say was definitely not feigned at all. We all played our parts well, and by the time I caught them up on everything, they had been stunned into what I interpreted as horrified silence.

As I'd spoken, I'd wrapped the phone's spiral cord tighter and tighter around my hand. As the silence lengthened, I wrapped the cord even tighter still, fingers tingling as blood slowed from a flow to a trickle. I'd been afraid of this—of this silence and uncertainty, of this quiet confirmation that this turn of events was as bad as I thought it was.

And Kagome's next statement didn't help matters. "I mean… from what you told me, it's wild Hiei could possibly lose to Zeru," she said, picking her words more carefully than usual.

"He didn't lose; it was a draw." But that wheedling protest rang hollow even to me, so I admitted, "And I'm sick over it."

"How so?" Minato asked.

"Well…" I gave them the details of how he'd spoken to me on the uppermost level of the stadium, which had kept him away long enough for a ring-out, and at the sound of them Kagome let out a startled gasp. Grimacing, I concluded, "And he hasn't looked me in the eye since."

"That makes him and Yusuke who're mad at you?" she asked.

"Oh. Well. About that…" More story rolled off my tongue, this part happier than the last—and somehow talk of the pillow fight loosened my tongue a little. The story about Yusuke organically rolled into more details about Jin, the chat with Genkai, playing "go fish" with Yukina, and the garden talk with Kurama. The tension drained from Minato and Kagome's voices soon, too, and for a minute I forgot about the mess I'd caused with Hiei. For a minute I was just a friend telling her friends about the things she had experienced, and nothing more. Pressure drained from my shoulders bit by bit; I sagged against the glass booth, leaning my temple against the cool panes with a sigh.

"Eeyore?" Kagome said. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Fine. Just… happy to hear your voices, I think." This was the truth, easy to admit and a pleasure to say… but the next bit of truth was a tougher sell. I debated against it, but soon I couldn't help but whisper, "I think I don't want to talk much longer."

I could practically hear Minato's eyes narrowing and his back straightening through the phone. "Are you all right?"

I shifted in place and grumbled, "Everyone keeps asking me that."

"Well duh," said Kagome. "You sound tense as heck!"

"Agreed," said Minato.

"Oh, I have an idea!" Kagome said. "Maybe hunt down the hotel spa? Take a breather?"

I started to protest—but then I paused to consider it. "Well, we do have the day off tomorrow since the match against Team Masho got moved up," I said, thinking about essential oils and a nice deep-tissue massage and oh my dear sweet fucking lord, that actually sounded amazing?! But I tried my best to keep my cool as I said, "Maybe I will."

"Girl, please," Kagome said. "Seaweed wrap. Mudmask. Massage. Spa those cares away!"

"I agree," Minato said, voice calm. "A massage works wonders for a tired mind."

I blinked owlishly in the dim light of the phone booth. "Minato, you're into massages?"

"Is that a shock?"

"You don't seem like the spa type, is all."

He hummed, noncommittal and amused. "I'll have you know that I've been known to spring for a pedicure on occasion."

"Wait," Kagome said. "Wait. Are you for real?!"

"The upkeep on one's appearance is an oftentimes an important part of mental health maintenance," he said with absolute sincerity.

She stammered. "B-but pedicures—?!"

Minato laughed. Kagome kept asking questions. Soon the pair of them bantered back and forth about Minato's diligent attention to self-care, Kagome wielding her disbelief like an astonished sledgehammer. Content for the first time in what felt like millennia, I leaned against the side of the booth and smiled, happy to remain silent and let the pair of them take the lead. Something told me they knew I needed that.

They were my good friends, after all.

That's why I'd called them in the first place—because I knew they'd know exactly what to say to keep the guilt brewing in my heart at bay, at least for a little while.


Botan, it turns out, is a cuddler.

This was news to me. Whenever she'd stayed over at my house ion the past, she'd slept in my bed while I took the futon on the floor. We'd never actually shared a bed over the course of our many sleepovers, which is why it was just the littlest bit confusing to wake up with her face smooshed against my collarbone and her breath tickling my chest. She'd hooked a leg through my knees and draped an arm across me, too. When I recovered from my shock and gently extricated myself from her iron grip, she mumbled in her sleep and grabbed a pillow to smother in her arms.

Light eked into the room around the thick curtains that covered the window; judging by its brightness, it was still early. Yukina slept demurely on her side in the bed by the window, her back turned to me as I donned my house slippers and tugged a hoodie over my tank top. Neither Botan nor Yukina stirred when I opened the door and slipped into the living room, letting in the sound of Kuwabara's snores in the process. I nearly bungled my quiet exit when movement flickered in the corner of my eye and my heart leapt into my throat—but it was just Kurama standing near the kitchen over his opened suitcase.

He was buttoning up his shirt when our eyes met. For a second his fingers stilled, but then they resumed their movements as a smile narrowed his bright eyes. He jerked his head toward the kitchen; I padded over and followed him into the marble-floored room, where I set about making coffee. I needed something to do to calm my beating heart, and coffee would surely cure the sleep from my eyes in short order.

"Leaving already?" I whispered when I found my voice again.

Kurama shook his head. "In a few minutes." He nodded toward the French press on the counter. "I'd like some of that, if you're feeling generous."

"You'll have to fight me for it." I stuck out my tongue when he blanched. "Kidding. How's the wound?"

"I'll be fighting fit by tomorrow." He glanced toward the door to the living room. "As will Yusuke and Kuwabara after a good night's rest, I imagine."

"Should you wake them up?" I said as I got down a set of fine china mugs. "For the Team Uraotogi match observation?"

"No. I'll let them sleep." Kurama chuckled as Kuwabara gave a particularly loud snore. "They'll catch up in due time, I'm sure."

I nodded absently, because that made sense at face value and Kurama was rarely wrong about stuff like that. Also I was still, like, half asleep? Coffee. Coffee was much needed just then. I made coffee with the French press in silence, whispering words of thanks to the hotel staff for supplying the suite with a bag of high-quality brew. When it was ready, Kurama and I sipped on it for a few minutes in silence, just enjoying the taste of the coffee as the light coming through the kitchen doorway grew brighter in time with the rising sun. I cupped my mug in both hands with a sigh, inhaling the rich steam with deep, steadying breaths.

Eventually I murmured, "I used to be allergic to coffee, you know."

Mid-drink, Kurama paused. "Really?" he said over the rim of his mug.

"Yeah. But it wasn't the caffeine. It was something in the beans." As I took a sip, I lifted a thumb from my mug's rim and pointed with it at my left eye. "Gave me a stye in my eye. Did the same to my dad." I shrugged. "Genetics, I guess."

He didn't say anything—or rather, he started to say something, but then his eyes narrowed. Kurama set his cup atop the counter with a gentle clink, staring off toward the suite's front door in silence… until his expression cleared. He headed for the door without a word, and on instinct I followed. I hovered in the kitchen doorway as he opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing with one hand for the person standing there to come inside.

Persons, I mean.

As soon as Kurama stepped aside, I saw the pair of them. Hiei and the Masked Fighter somehow managed to cut an imposing pair of figures despite their collective lack of height; I think it was the combination of Genkai's enigmatic mask and Hiei's goth ensemble (not to mention his scarlet eyes) that did the trick. The air caught in my lungs as the Masked Fighter gave me a curt nod, which I returned, but as I took a deep breath and started to greet Hiei, he scowled and pivoted on his heel. In silence he marched out of sight down the hall, the flash of his red gaze lingering like a strobe light in my stunned vision.

Kurama chuckled when my face fell. "Give it time," he murmured as Genkai followed Hiei away from the suite.

I grimaced. "But I hate waiting."

"I know you do." He gently shut the door, lock engaging with the smallest of clicks. Kurama headed back to the kitchen, on his way placing one hand delicately upon my shoulder. "Trust me," he murmured as he paused at my side. "He'll come around."

"Generously allowing me to go crazy in the meantime," I reminded him.

Kurama's lips curled, chin tucking closer to his chest. "Perhaps," he said. His hand left my shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen, reaching for his nearly depleted coffee cup. "See waiting on Hiei as an exercise in your personal growth, I suppose."

My eyes rolled; I darted into the kitchen and shooed him away from his mug. "In exchange for your valuable life advice, sensei, I'll clean up." I shooed him away harder, pushing against his shoulder blades when he turned around. "Get the leg out. Match will be starting soon."

Kurama chuckled again, but he did as asked and left the suite with another soft click of lock hitting latch. For a few minutes I puttered around the kitchen, washing the French press and putting away dishes as quietly as I could. The suite was pretty much silence (aside from the sound of Kuwabara sawing logs on his futon) and a consult with my watch told me they had time to make it to the match if they got up in maybe half an hour. To bide my time, I checked out the suite's fridge and pantry, taking inventory of the food items with which the hotel had seen fit to stock the kitchen. There were plenty of items to use to make breakfast, lunch and dinner, so in my head I planned the day's menu and set aside the breakfast items I'd soon need… but I could only plan menus for so long before getting bored out of my skull, even after putting some meat in a marinade and pre-portioning various spices. Sure, I like to cook, but it's not like it's my favorite thing ever or whatever.

When prepping food got tiresome, I stole back into the bedrooms and grabbed my backpack off the floor. I had chemistry homework to take care of—but as soon as I saw the problems on my worksheet, my mind scattered like chaff on the wind. I set aside the homework with a sigh and paced, trying to keep my footsteps airy and silence as I carved a path around Yusuke on the couch and Kuwabara on his futon.

Waking up early was sort of fun, sometimes. Being alone meant you could do whatever you wanted without anyone saying anything, and I reveled in that solitude—but because people were sleeping, I didn't feel comfortable turning on the radio or the TV. Homework was ugh-inducing, cooking was boring, pacing in circles wasn't at all productive… which left me with just one quiet option for occupying my time. Stripping out of my sweatshirt, I padded around to the back of the couch, suppressing a giggle when Yusuke said something in his sleep about kicking someone's ass if they didn't hand over the pineapple (boy said hilarious things in his sleep sometime, I swear). I tested my footing on the plush carpet a few times before lying on my stomach and concentrating on my breathing, eventually transitioning into a good bow-pose stretch that soon turned into a whole series of yoga asanas.

Yoga hadn't been of much interest to me in my past life. My various injuries and pains had made most poses and transitions difficult, with few teachers able to help me make enough adjustments to be able to follow along without totally disrupting a class. My new life, however, saw me as more of an athlete, in need of stretching and conditioning to keep my muscles in top shape (and it didn't help that Genkai had advised me to meditate as I strove to become psychic, bringing another attractive benefit to the yoga-shaped table). Once I'd learned where yoga came from and how to respect the art without being too horrifically appropriative, yoga helped me disconnect and manage stress, calming my racing thoughts and keyed-up nerves. It was also fun to see how long I could hold various poses, challenging me to up my records and strive for self-motivated self-improvement.

It didn't hurt that it also amused Yusuke to no end.

I was in the middle of a scorpion pose when I heard the couch creak, breaking me from the static reverie of my thoughts just as his voice croaked froglike through the air. "The fuck 'er ya doin'?" Yusuke said as he hauled himself upright and blinked blearily at me over the back of the couch.

I didn't fall out of my pose. "Morning," was all I said. "Sleep well?"

He yawned so hard, I could count his molars. "Sure." He stretched his arms over his head, hair cowlicked and untamed atop his head. "What's your spine even made out of, anyway? Rubber bands?"

"Yup." I released my back leg, letting it drift in a controlled descent back to earth. "Also jello."

"I believe it." He glanced over at Kuwabara, then caught sight of the folded-up futon Kurama had left on one of the suite's many plush chairs. "Hey. Where's Kurama?"

I performed a back-bend (which wasn't exactly yoga, and more me showing off to make Yusuke's eyes go kind of buggy). "He went to the stadium," I said as I grinned at Yusuke upside-down.

His brow furrowed. "When?"

"Little while ago."

Kuwabara's snores puttered; sheets rustled as Kuwabara said, "Huh? Wuz 'appenin'?" The couch creaked as his knees dug into it, and soon his face appeared alongside Yusuke's over the back of the couch. "Keiko, what are you doing?" he asked, jaw dropping.

"She's trying to join the circus, I think," Yusuke quipped.

I huffed and collapsed into a pile on the floor. "Can't a girl do a little yoga in peace?" I groused as I rolled onto my stomach.

Yusuke grinned—but then his smile faded. "Wait," he said. "Did you say Kurama went to the stadium?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Yusuke's face screwed up. "The stadium. Hmm. Why does that sound—oh shit!" Now his eyes really bugged out of his head. "The next team we're fighting had a match this morning, didn't they?!"

"Huh?" Kuwabara blinked twice, movements sleepy and sluggish. "Oh yeah, that's right! Hold on, let me check my—" He glanced at the watch on his wrist and yelped, sleep clearing from his gaze at once. "Holy crap, it's already 9:30!"

Yusuke shot to his feet. "Jesus, fuck!"

And thus commenced a mad scramble the likes of which I had never seen from Yusuke, who was chronically late to everything and also allergic to hurrying to meet deadlines or appointments. He and Kuwabara leapt over furniture and the their bags around, hogging the mirror in the suite's entry hallway so they could do their hair, the scent of pomade sweet and sticky in the early morning air. I watched from the couch without a word, too amused to even crack jokes as Kuwabara hurriedly brushed his teeth in the kitchen and Yusuke screeched there wasn't fucking time for that, dammit!, and Kuwabara countered that there was always time to take care of your teeth, and Yusuke would know that if he paid attention in health class, goshdarnit! They only remembered that I was there when they started stripping out if their pajamas and Kuwabara recalled that they also taught lessons on basic decency in health class. He blushed beet red when he stripped out of his shirt and realized I was about five feet away; Kuwabara clutched his shirt to his chest as I hid my eyes with a giggle, after which he muttered an embarrassed than you and kept changing. I only dared uncover my eyes when I heard them yelling about finding their damn shoes. They hopped around by the door as they put them on, nearly losing balance more than once in their mad haste to get out the door.

"Crap crap crap crap—" Yusuke was saying.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!" Kuwabara was also saying as he finished tying his laces and fumbled for the door handle.

I waved. "Make good choices, you two!"

But my words fell on deaf ears—or, more accurately, onto the door as it shut behind them. A beat passed, though, and the door burst open once again to emit Yusuke. He looked annoyed as he dashed to the couch, not bothering to remove his shoes, and began rummaging through the rumpled sheets and pillows covering the cushions with curses that'd make a sailor blush.

"Forget your wallet?" I asked as he searched.

"Nah, I wish!" His eyes lit up and he gave a crow of triumph as he pulled a familiar blue blob out of the bedclothes. "Gotcha!" he said, stuffing the sleepy creature down the front of his shirt. "Now c'mere, ya little weasel."

"Pretty sure he's closer to a bat-penguin lovechild."

Yusuke bared his teeth and headed for the door. "What he really is is a pain in my—"

And the door slammed shut behind him.

On cue, the bedroom door behind me swung open. Botan shuffled into the room with a yawn, blue hair tangled and rumpled around the moon of her pretty face. "Oh, hello, Keiko," she said when she saw me. "What's the ruckus?"

"Morning." I jerked a thumb at the door. "Boys just left."

"Did they?" she asked, and then she blinked the sleep from her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, right. To watch our next opponents? Getting the scoop on the enemy is a smart choice."

"Yeah." I looked her over. "Say, Botan?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you wanna maybe check out the hotel spa with me?"

I probably shouldn't have bothered to ask, because the second I finished speaking, her face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Of course Botan would check out the spa with me—because as surely as I'd known I could count on Kagome and Minato to be there for me when I needed it, I knew I could count on Botan to keep me company on a girl's day out.


They say you get what you pay for—but the hotel's complimentary spa was absolutely the exception to that rule.

Botan wanted to go all out, of course, and take advantage of the whole glorious, sandalwood-scented shebang. We got manicures and pedicures, facials and a seaweed wrap, salt-scrubs and sugar-scrubs galore, and when that was said and done we got a hot-stone massage complete with essential oils to promote relaxation. It was absolutely heaven on earth, and more than once I found myself silently thanking Kagome for being an absolute genius for suggesting this in the first place. I was practically a puddle of Keiko-flavored goo by the time we got back to our suite, where we found Atsuko and Shizuru waiting for us and not enjoying the realization that we'd gone to the spa without them.

"Spas are for early risers!" Botan declared when Shizuru got grumpy over missing out. "We traded sleeping in for our experience, you know."

Atsuko grumbled something about being too hungover for this shit, and Shizuru grumbled something about how they'd have their own spa day later without the children present, and Botan told them not to be sore about the fact that they slept through their alarm clocks and had missed their tickets to paradise. I got in the shower to the sound of their good-natured bickering, and when I was finished I left the suite to head downstairs to the boys' room.

But I wasn't the only one with that idea. When the elevator doors opened in front of me upon getting to the boys' floor, I saw two sets of shoulders walking away from the elevators down the hall. Even if they hadn't had some pretty unique hairstyles between the both of them, Kurama and Kuwabara's builds and manners of dress were both distinctive enough to recognize when seen from behind.

"Oh hey, guys," I said as I trotted to catch up. "Back already?"

Kuwabara started, like I'd woken him from a deep sleep, and he turned with a murmur of, "Keiko?"

"I said, you're back already." I stopped walking just as Kuwabara and Kurama did, glancing between the pair of them in turns. "OK, hold up. Why the long faces?"

Kurama and Kuwabara exchanged a Look, but their expressions didn't change. Kurama wore his blandest and most pleasant smile—the one he reserved for particularly annoying teachers or for breaking bad news—and Kuwabara just looked… shuttered. Like a door had closed behind his eyes, carving lines around his mouth from the force of its slam. He averted his gaze when our eyes met, scratching the back of his neck as he stared with those shuttered eyes at the carpeted floor.

Sensing neither of them were going to answer me, I changed the subject. "Also, where're Hiei and Yusuke and the Masked Fighter?"

"Um," said Kuwabara, still not looking at me. "Hiei went off somewhere—"

"Toward the coast," Kurama interjected. "To train, I presume."

"—and the Masked Fighter dragged Yusuke off after the match. Dunno where to, though."

I knew exactly where they'd gone, but of course I couldn't say that. Instead I scanned Kurama and Kuwabara and asked, "Looks like he took Puu with him?"

Kuwabara nodded. "Yeah."

"Think they'll be back in time for dinner?" I said, even though I knew the answer was "no way in hell."

"I'm not sure," said Kurama, "but given the Masked Fighter's parting words to us, I'm guessing not."

The smile on my face was as bitter as it was wry. "Why do I sense you're about to parrot something cryptically alarming?"

"Because I am," he said, with that same kind of smile. "As they left, the Masked Fighter requested that we try not to die while they're gone."

No one said anything for a second. Then Kuwabara laughed, low in his chest, and he didn't sound amused at all.

"Figures Yusuke and ol' masky would go runnin' off right before the semifinals," he grumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Team Uraotogi can't hold a candle to Team Toguro, but they're still not demons we should face without our full team!"

There was an edge to his voice—and uncharacteristic edge, one informed by tension and also the barest waver, obscured by his rough diction and brusque tone but still obvious to me. It wasn't like Kuwabara at all to sound that strained, that unsettled, and I could do nothing more than stare at his broad back as he turned and stalked off down the hall.

Kurama stepped into the space by my elbow with a sound like leaves whispering over grass. "The match ended quickly—too quickly—with a decisive victory in favor of Uraotogi," he murmured in my ear.

I nodded, tracking the path of canon in my mind. Team Uraotogi was the team's next foe, and if my memory served me correctly, that meant today's trip to the stadium to observe the fights had involved seeing not only Uraotogi in action, but Team Toguro. That bit where Toguro had flexed his power, made Yusuke and the others quake… not to mention that scene where Hiei saw Puu for the first time and wondered about Yusuke's new blue appendage. I suppressed a giggle at the thought; now was not the time for fond recollections of an anime Kurama had never seen.

Instead I just said, "Ouch."

"Indeed." He wore a carefully neutral expression, smile bland and perfunctory. "Although the power levels of a few members of Team Uraotogi were not necessarily impressive at face value, it seems they have been outfitted with unique weapons and items of supernatural persuasions. We will need to stay on our toes for whatever tricks they may attempt to pull."

Down the hall, Kuwabara tossed another wry laugh over his shoulder. "You wanna talk about power levels, you oughtta take a look at Toguro's team, anyway." I caught a glimpse of one dark eye as he stopped in front of the suite's door and reached for the handle. "Can hardly blame Yusuke for runnin' off when Toguro's power feels like that…"

His eyes glittered strangely, and then he stepped into the suite and disappeared.

"Is it just me, or does Kuwabara seem rattled?" I said.

Kurama drew in a long, deep breath. "As you likely inferred from his earlier comments, we encountered the Toguro brothers and their teammates at the stadium." More careful diction accompanied his speech, as if he feared he might break something if he said one even slightly indelicate word. "Toguro is making no effort to conceal his energy levels from us at this late juncture. It caught Kuwabara off guard."

I considered this a moment, thinking of the anime—of how Kuwabara had had something resembling a breakdown upon feeling Toguro's true power for the first time during the Uraotogi observation. That bit of canon had indeed remained intact despite Kuwabara's additional training with Genkai. I wasn't sure how I felt about it, honestly. Kuwabara was stronger now than he'd been in canon, but Toguro was still in another league entirely, and yet I thought Kuwabara would have more confidence at this point…

"Toguro lost the fight at Tarukane's mansion on purpose." I eyed Kurama askance, gauging his reaction. "I guess this is the first time Kuwabara is really getting a taste of Toguro's unfiltered power, huh?"

All he said was a single, measured, "Yes."

"Do you think he's so rattled he'll have trouble fighting tomorrow?"

"Sorry." His eyes shut, smile ghosting over his lips. "Although I consider Kuwabara a friend, I'm still getting to know his many quirks." The smile thinned. "But I admit the thought of him freezing up had crossed my mind."

I suppressed a curse, covering the look on my face with a swipe of my hand. In silence Kurama and I went into the suite; in one of the bedrooms I heard a shower hiss on, presumably an indicator that Kuwabara was bathing. Keeping my head down and my eyes trained on the floor, I wandered through the suite picking up dirty dishes, discarded clothes and mussed pillows. Cleaning helped me clear some of the clutter in my head, too… sort of. I was trying to think of what I could do to help Kuwabara, but as my scattered thoughts organized themselves in time with the cleaned suite, the only conclusion I came upon was not one I enjoyed entertaining. If Kuwabara froze in his next match, or in the match against Toguro, I wouldn't be able to do shit for him. I couldn't even step in like Shizuru to be the alternate; I was nowhere near strong enough to help, a plain vanilla human to the core. If I was stronger, I wouldn't hesitate to take the burden of fighting off of any member of the team who wanted out. I wouldn't pause for even a second to bear that weight for them.

Part of me had to wonder if this—this keen desire to protect and buoy—was what parenting was like, but I had no way to tell for sure.

Kurama stood in the kitchen doorway, watching me anxiety-clean in silence. I shot him an apologetic smile a few times, which he returned with a bracing look of his own, but I think he knew better than to try and intervene. He knew me well enough to know that I needed time to stew by myself before acting. He only spoke when the sound of the shower ceased in the next room and a curtain rattled down a length of metal pipe.

"What should we do?" he murmured.

I shrugged. "Not so much 'we' as 'me.'"

His eyes narrowed. "I don't follow."

"I mean that I'm going to give him a pep-talk." I said—and in my mind I couldn't help but add, "Since apparently that's all I'm good for."

Unaware of my self-deprecating inner monologue, Kurama's eyes brightened. He did nothing more than give me an encouraging nod as I headed for Kuwabara's room and knocked three times on the door. For a minute Kuwabara didn't reply, but when I knocked again, his voice drifted through the door in answer.

"Who's there?" he grumbled.

"It's me," I said. "You dressed? I need to talk to you."

"Oh. Uh." Something thumped against the floor. "One sec." I heard rustling and a zippering noise before Kuwabara cleared his throat. "OK. Come in."

He stood near the foot of his bed, toweling dry his hair—hair which was way longer than I'd realized, now that I saw it weighed down by water and not coaxed into its typical pompadour. The curl had gone out of it, bleached strands falling in softer waves on either side of his face, just brushing his severe cheek bones. The relaxed style looked kind of like something out of the mid-2000s emo scene, the fall of his hair changing the composition of his features as he ran his fingers through the damp strands. He did this without looking at me, keeping his eyes averted as I sat in a chair near the window and pulled a pillow off the bed and into my lap.

"Kurama told me you saw the Uraotogi fight today," I said, toying with the edge of the soft pillowcase. "What did you think?"

Kuwabara snorted. "Their leader is a pretty-boy with a bad attitude and a pair of horns to match, basically."

"Any idea how you'll beat him?"

"Hit 'im with my sword, I guess."

I hummed. "Solid plan."

"Really?" He finally looked at me, then, eyes wide with surprise. "You think so?"

"Yup." Obviously Shishiwakamaru wouldn't be so easily beaten, but this was a pep-talk, not a psych-out. Still, there was no sense in lulling Kuwabara into a false sense of security, so when he grinned, I raised one finger into the air and said, "Just watch out for if he tries to do anything tricky. Kurama said they had some weird items with them that could have all kinds of nasty side-effects. Just stay on your toes, like Kurama said before, and there's nobody you can't beat." Then I beamed, because that's what a pep-talk called for—especially since Kuwabara's face had grown worryingly and mystifyingly overcast. "I know you can do it. You're going to win this whole tournament, and that's a fact."

Kuwabara tossed his towel onto the bed. He wore jeans and a tank top, but even in these casual clothes he looked oddly uncomfortable. He moved stiffly as he sat on the bed and said, eyes locked on the floor, "You really value the things Kurama says, huh?"

Weird tangent, but OK. I tried kept the confusion off my face as I nodded, smile bright and cheery. "Of course I do. He's super smart, especially about stuff like this. You're all smart in different ways." It was easy to gush because these boys were my favorites, all of them, and I could gush for days at only the slightest provocation. "All of you have so many good qualitie—"

"No." The word cut sharp through the air, and immediately Kuwabara was running his fingers through his hair. "I mean… ugh. Sorry, Keiko." He shook his head. "Never mind."

I rose up and resettled, tucking my ankles beneath me as I gripped the pillow tighter. "Kuwabara," I said. "Are you OK?"

He drew in a deep breath that shook. "Yeah," he said, but his face spasmed like he'd bit into a lemon. "No. Maybe. I don't know."

I waited in silence for him to continue, but he didn't. Not right away, at least. He sat hunched on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, one large hand covering his mouth as he stared ahead of him at the bedroom's half-closed door. I let him have his quiet moment, and soon something seemed to gel in the depths of his dark eyes. Another deep breath expanded his broad chest. His head turned, Kuwabara regarding me through the fall of his wet hair.

"If I do something," Kuwabara said, "will you promise not to freak out?"

He spoke softly—too softly. Like he was scared of something big and hairy finding him and eating him if he gave away his hiding spot. It wasn't often Kuwabara's voice quavered the way it did just then, and I couldn't help but feel my expression soften in response.

I turned that softness into a look of skepticism, though, because I didn't want him to feel patronized. "Well, that depends," I told him. "It depends on what it is and if it involves spiders."

He grinned a little. "No spiders."

"Pinkie swear?" I said, holding up said digit.

He held his up, too. "Promise." He stood. "One sec."

I sat in silence as Kuwabara headed for his duffle bag in the corner. He knelt and rooted through it, eventually pulling free of white envelope held shut by a little piece of tape. This he brought to me and held out in my direction, jaw set so hard a vein pulsed in his neck. I stared at the envelope in silence even when he gave it a little shake, because what in the world was this? And what about this tiny little envelope could possibly have put Kuwabara so on edge? It looked like he was holding his breath as he looked at me, unblinking, hand drifting up and down through the air as his arm adopted the slightest of tremors.

"Here," he said through his teeth. He gave the envelope another shake. "Take it."

I did as asked. "What's this?"

"It's a present. From me." He swallowed. "To you."

He said nothing else. Slowly I slid my thumb beneath the tape, popping it away from paper with a rustle and a creak. Kuwabara's chest hitched as I pulled two glossy cardstock rectangles out of the envelope and looked them over—and when my eyes caught on the big letter M with stylized lightning bolt motifs on the edges, my breathing hitch, too. I stared at the objects in my hands in shock, mouth working around empty air as I tried to find the words… but no words came. None of importance, really.

The only things of importance were the concert tickets in my hands.

"Kuwabara." I looked up at him with my mouth open, still unable to comprehend just what he had given me—and all of the myriad implications that went with it. "Kuwabara—these…?"

"Yeah." He swallowed again, but then he squared his shoulders and declared, "Yukimura Keiko… this summer, will you go to the Megallica concert with me?"


NOTES

A couple of housekeeping odds and ends: Long story short, someone unexpectedly quit at my workplace and I'm having to do weekend work to pick up the slack, hence the disruption in the update schedule I proposed last time I updated. I added some shorts to "Written In Ink" to hopefully make up for the sporadic schedule; one of them is about Minato, which should please some of you. I also FINISHED my Scooby-Doo/YYH crossover apart from a few silly epilogues, so check that out for a laugh if you'd like. I'm oddly proud of it.

I'll be at an anime convention on the east coast next weekend (actually working it, not attending for fun). Will be pretty busy as a result, but I'm still going to try and update a few things. Be on the lookout. Also if you're going to a con out that way next weekend, hit me up and I'll let you know if we're attending the same one. Would be cool to say hi, but maybe that's weird? IDK but I thought I'd mention it anyway.

Aaaand, yeah. Not much else to say this week beyond the fact that we have several character moments to get through before we return to the Tournament's main action. I'm excited to really delve deep into one character in particular next time who hasn't had much limelight in the story but TOTALLY DESERVES to get a moment of good character study. Any guesses as to who that might be? Huh? Anyone? Bueller? Buuueeeellerrrrr?

Big thanks to those who came out for the last chapter; it's been a rough few weeks and your comments honestly meant the world to me. You rock: Thornsilverfox, C S Stars, McMousie, Tequilamockinbur, Lady Ellesmere, EdenMae, xenocanaan, Marian, MyHeartBeating-MWMI, IronDBZ, MyMidnightShadow, vodka and tea, SterlingBee, cestlavie, Deamachi, Blaze1662001, MissIdeophobia, Kaiya Azure, Selias, Sorlian, Konohamaya Uzumaki, Lightning Ash, ahyeon, Littlebutterfly7, Yakiitori, Neko-Mitsuko, tammywammy9, The Shay-Shay, Blue, Gohanya, Kykygrly, Ally Kenshin, Arcane Charmcaster, general zargon, intata, TalisLark, OdinsReaper, Dusky Raptor and guests!