Warnings: None
Lucky Child
Chapter 99:
"Trolley Problems"
Like an oiled snake, Genkai slipped through my grasp and disappeared.
I found her again soon enough, although by that time, the rest of our group had caught up to me. Genkai stood beside Botan and Yusuke outside of the stadium, glaring daggers at any demons who happened to stray too close to their hiding place. They all knew exactly who she was without her mask, and thus they gave her a particularly wide berth.
She turned that same glare on Hiei when she saw us approach. Kurama had already peeled away from our little clan to go watch the Toguro's semifinal match, just as Genkai had requested a few minutes prior. She noted as much to Hiei with a dose of her trademark snark.
"So I suppose you thought I was merely making a suggestion earlier?" she said, giving him the dead-fish-eye.
Hiei tossed his hair and scoffed. "I have better things to do than watch someone else fight."
"Fine. Die in the finals, then." She whirled away before he could say something cutting in return, which he definitely would have done given the look of wrath on his face. "Let's get the dimwit to the hotel. Can't have demons trying to pick off the team captain in the lull between fights. Kuwabara?"
Kuwabara put Yusuke on his back with only the smallest of complaints. Unlike Hiei, he knew better than to test Genkai. He'd trained with her too long to mouth off.
The walk back to the hotel was uneventful, at best. Any demons bold enough to approach our entourage were quickly sent scurrying by the combined efforts of Hiei, Kuwabara and Genkai, not to mention Shizuru and even the happy-to-shout-threats-of-dismemberment Atsuko. The only ones not affected by their intimidating presence were the various tournament backers we passed in the hotel lobby. They shot us stares even more withering than Genkai's (probably because they'd lost money on the fights, if I had to guess). I thought I spotted one or two of them looking at me with particular scrutiny, so I hung my head and tried not to look conspicuous as we boarded the elevator. No sense in them recognizing me from the dustup in the casino…
At the room, we settled Yusuke down onto his bed in short order, where he continued to snooze without a single sign of disturbance despite our rough treatment of his sleeping body. Botan and Atsuko fussed, pulling a blanket over him and a tucking a pillow beneath his head, and my first instinct was to join in—but when I saw Genkai hovering in the doorway, watching Yusuke in silence, I turned my face away.
She looked… desolate, somehow. Like a death row prisoner enjoying their final, beloved meal, knowing it would be the last joy they ever tasted.
Not that Yusuke or Puu, that fuzzball reflection of Yusuke's soul, noticed. Puu slept like a log in my arms, bat-wing ears wrapped around his body like a swaddling cloth. He breathed the softest of snores through his yellow beak, and when he gave a sleepy grumble and cuddled closer to my chest, Kuwabara eyed Puu over with consternation… and then he seemed to realize something, and he thrust out his chin.
"Yusuke's back, but since he's still sleeping, that means I'm still team captain." His chest inflated; it was a wonder his head didn't join in and puff up like a balloon. "And that means I call the shots."
Shizuru rolled her eyes. "Don't dream too big, kid. Your head'll swell."
"Yeah, yeah. Now let's see…" He eyed the room over, critical gaze skating from Botan to Yukina, me to Hiei, Genkai to Atsuko, and finally toward his sister. Kuwabara lifted a finger and pointed. "Shizuru, Atsuko. You need to make sure we have enough food for everyone. Nutritious stuff, not the junky garbage Yusuke eats."
One of Shizuru's perfectly manicured brows lifted, subtle but fierce. "And what makes you think you can tell me what to do all of a sudden?"
"Because I'm team captain and last time I checked, you're on this team!" Kuwabara retorted before rounding on me. "Keiko, once they get the food, you'll need to cook it."
I saluted (like a dork; was this becoming a habit?). "Roger that, cap."
"See? Now that's a good attitude," he said, beaming at me. He turned to Botan. "And Botan, as head cheerleader, you need to make sure we're all in high spirits and stuff. Think you can handle it?"
She saluted, too (because apparently my dorkery was spreading). "Yes, sir!"
He beamed again. Turned. "Now, as for Hiei—"
"Team captain is a pointless title when you're the weakest member of the team." Hiei cut in like a honed knife, eyes even sharper than his pointed words. "Don't think you can tell me what to do, idiot."
To his credit, Kuwabara only looked afraid for about two seconds. "We'll, uh… we'll circle back around to you." His hand came up, cupping his chin. "I guess that just leaves…"
When his eyes settled on Genkai, she shot him a look that broached no argument whatsoever. But he just grinned and shrugged, sheepish.
"Genkai—well, do whatever you need to do, OK?" he said, adorably earnest. "We need you in top shape for the match day after tomorrow."
Genkai chuckled. "Whatever you say, kid."
She sounded affectionately grumpy. Breezy, even, at least by Genkai standards. The vulnerability I'd glimpsed when she looked over Yusuke's sleeping face was gone, replaced by casual amusement at Kuwabara's antics. How did she do that? How did she conceal what had to be feelings of turmoil—because surely even the unflappable Genkai was not immune to anxiety in the face of certain death, was she?
But I was staring again. So I cradled Puu in my arms and looked away.
No one noticed my awkward demeanor, or if they did, they did not say anything. Perhaps Yukina distracted them when she stepped forward and tapped gently on Kuwabara's elbow, eyes huge and liquid and gorgeous as she peered fretfully into his face. He looked down in confusion, but then his eyes lit up.
"Oh, Yukina-san!" he said. "I almost forgot—you're the most important part of preparation for the finals!"
Yukina blinked. "I am?"
"Of course! We need you to help heal." Crossing his arms, Kuwabara nodded, jaw poised in a dead-set grin. "Kurama has his plants when he gets back, and Botan has white magic she can use to help, but your healing powers are the best! Would you mind making sure we're all in good shape by the day after tomorrow?" He backpedaled, hands coming up in apology. "I mean, only if you want to, and—"
"I would be happy to assist the team in whatever way I'm able." Her demure smile could've melted solid stone. "Especially since you have all given me such a nice place to stay."
"Oh, don't mention it, Yukina-san! We're happy to help a friend." He gestured at the room, looking to the rest of us for confirmation. "You've already taken care of me, and Yusuke seems fine. But Genkai, do you need Yukina to—?"
Genkai grunted a denial. "I'm good, kid." Wizened cheeks rounded into a soft, lean smile. "You shouldn't waste your talents on an old lady, anyway."
Yukina looked pained. "Genkai-san…"
(Behind her, Shizuru stared at Genkai with an odd look on her face. I couldn't quite make it out before our eyes met. Our gazes held for a moment barely longer than a heartbeat, and then, as one, we looked away. No one noticed this, either.)
Kuwabara stroked his chin. "Well, if Genkai and Yusuke don't need healing, and I've already been healed, that leaves Hiei and Kurama. And since Kurama isn't here, that just leaves… urk!"
He had visibly paled by the time he flinched and fell silent, shoulders hunching as he stared at the wall, bead of sweat rolling down his temple. He especially didn't look at Hiei, who lounged against the wall near the door like a tiger awaiting a meal. Hiei's face didn't move even an inch at Kuwabara's implication—not even when Yukina, master of process of elimination that she was, sidled up to Hiei with steps most tentative, eyes locked on the bandages wrapped around his arm and shoulder.
"Hiei-san." She gave a little bow (and Kuwabara, meanwhile, looked on the verge of a panic attack). "If you're in need of healing, and would permit me to—"
"I'm fine." His tone, curt though it was, held a bite of humor. "Those half-rate thugs barely left a scratch."
"But Hiei-san…"
His face softened, but so slightly that it's possible I just imagined it. In any case, he pushed away from the wall and turned his back on Yukina, angling himself toward the door like he intended to leave us all behind.
"It would take much stronger demons to impact me in any great way." Hiei shook his head. "No, Yukina. Save your abilities for those who need them." A wicked smirk crossed his face, scarlet eye glinting as he turned it over his shoulder. "Like the big oaf over there, for instance."
Kuwabara's face swung toward him. He started to retort, but no sooner had he opened his mouth than did his eyes flicker in Yukina's direction. At once he swallowed down whatever he'd been about to say, face turning ashen once more, eyes darting awkwardly between Hiei and Yukina and back again. He had a horrific poker face, and I could tell exactly what was wrong: Kuwabara didn't want to insult Hiei in front of his long-lost sister, even if Yukina didn't know who Hiei was just yet.
And I understood what he was going through, because I felt much the same way. Unlike Kuwabara, however, I had an 'out.' Rather than step on a rake (one that would likely force Hiei into murdering me outright), I tried not to look guilty and busied myself with arranging Puu at Yusuke's side, tucking the little sleeping Spirit-Beast-burrito in beside his human counterpart. A Puurito, if you will. Inventing irreverent names for Puu was far preferable to being skinned alive by Hiei, that was for sure.
Atsuko, meanwhile, had looped her arm around Yukina's shoulders. "And in the meantime, kid. How about we try asking around about that brother you told me you were looking for, huh?"
Yukina smiled up at her, gratitude radiating from every pore. "Really, Atsuko-san?"
"Of course! He can't hide from my eagle eyes." Atsuko winked. "I once managed to pick one of my ex-boyfriends out of a Dolly Parton lookalike contest, and those queens all looked exactly like—"
Hiei's poker face was a far cry from both mine and Kuwabara's, because he stood there as cool as a cucumber, not looking even the littlest bit guilty as he continued to lie (by omission) to his twin sister. Botan's poker face was better than mine, but even she wasn't able to compete with Hiei in that department. Moving with stiffness born of supreme awkwardness, she undid all my good work and removed Puu from the bed, muttering something about how he needed a bath before darting off for the bathroom and out of sight. I tried to follow (because she had the right idea, beating a retreat like that), but before I could do so, Kuwabara cleared his throat. He'd begun to stare, eyes desperate, edging inch by inch around Hiei toward the door.
"Uh. Hey, Keiko?" He inched another iota closer to freedom. "Are you hungry?"
"What, you done ordering us around already?" Shizuru snarked.
He ignored his sister. He just kept inching, expression growing increasingly more desperate. "Because I'm really hungry and would love it if you made me pancakes!"
I scowled. "I'm not your mother, go make your own panca—actually, on second thought, yes, I'd love to make you some pancakes." Toward the door I scurried, too. "But I don't have supplies here, so we'll have to go back to the other suite."
"Aw, shucks!" Kuwabara said with overstated, Br'er Rabbit dismay. "Not the other suite!"
"Yeah, it really sucks," I said with equal insincerity, "but them's the breaks. Let's go!"
"You're both disasters, you know that?" Shizuru muttered as I passed.
"Pancakes?" Atsuko called in our wake. "You better bring back some for us! Though it's kind of a weird time for pancakes, if you ask me…"
"What's a pancake?" Yukina said.
"Well, it's a really tasty thing that's usually served at breakfast—"
As Atsuko explained the finer points of brunch to a perplexed Yukina, we beat a hasty retreat into the living room, then the hallway and finally onto the elevator. Neither of us dared speak until we'd reached the girls' suite, at which point we breathed twin sighs of relief and sank in unison to the floor, equally thankful not to occupy the same space as Yukina and her recalcitrant brother.
"I don't know how Shizuru just stands there like that!" I groaned, mopping my hands over my perspiring face. "She and Genkai have the best poker faces in history. At least Botan had the sense to get the heck outta dodge and leave the room."
Kuwabara shot me a peeved glare. "Shizuru and Genkai? Botan? What about Hiei?" he said, hands flying as he gesticulated. "How can he just stand there and not tell Yukina the truth?"
Sometimes I forgot that Kuwabara knew the secret of Yukina and Hiei's shared parentage. Now was not one of those times. To cover my awkwardness (something I was doing more and more of lately), I rolled to my feet and padded into the kitchen, pulling utensils and ingredients from the cupboards one by one.
In canon, Kuwabara hadn't been present to see the video from Spirit World that explained the link between Hiei and Yukina; he had seen Yukina's face, fallen in love, and run off to find her before the video got to that all-important piece of information. In this reality, he had seen the video in its entirety—and clearly he hadn't forgotten that they were, in fact, twins. He didn't know the truth about why Hiei didn't confess that he was Yukina's brother (not like I did thanks to my meta knowledge of Yu Yu Hakusho), but he still knew they were related… and whether or not Kuwabara would be willing to keep that secret for long was anyone's guess. Canon certainly didn't provide any clues. This was uncharted territory encapsulated, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. Should I let Kuwabara vent about Hiei not telling Yukina the truth? Should I just listen, or…?
Oblivious to my inner monologue, Kuwabara followed me into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. "It's a cop-out, if you ask me," he said, jaw set in a determined grimace. "Hiei knows he's not the prize of a brother Yukina thinks she'll get when she finds him, so he doesn't even risk telling her the truth." He scoffed, sound out-of-place in his normally kind mouth. "Short little punk might be a halfway decent fighter, but I know what makes a good brother, and he is not it."
I had to stifle a laugh, because the irony was almost too much to handle. In the anime, Kuwabara had been tough on Hiei due to their weird rivalry, but now he was being tough on him for entirely different reasons. The irony was that in the other timeline, Kuwabara was hard on Hiei in front of Yukina because he didn't know he was insulting her brother in front of her. Earlier today he'd made sure to stop from insulting Hiei in front of Yukina, respecting their relationship even if Yukina didn't know who Hiei was yet. It proved that even if Kuwabara was mad, he wouldn't be spiteful. He was a good guy, even if he wasn't exactly acting his best just then… but how long would his good will last, especially given Hiei and Kuwabara's tendency to insult each other?
"I just feel sorry for Yukina, y'know?" Kuwabara continued. "She's a sweet girl, and she's got a whole lot of disappointment ahead of her whether or not Hiei decides to fess up. Especially after everything she's been through." His face screwed up tight. "She deserves somebody nice. Not someone like Hiei."
My hands paused around measuring cups and the flour I'd been measuring with them. "Don't you think you're being a little hard on him?" I said, dumping the flour into a mixing bowl.
"Being a little—?" Kuwabara looked confused. "Nah, actually, I don't. Lying to her is a scumbag move." When I didn't agree, he took a step closer, searching my face. "Don't you think so, Keiko?"
"I think…" I debated the merits of agreeing with him to avoid a tough conversation, but decided against it. Setting aside my developing pancake mix, I met Kuwabara's eyes and explained, "I think people have reasons for doing all kinds of things. And no one has to share those reasons if they don't want to. We care about Yukina and Hiei—"
"You care about Hiei," he muttered.
"Shut up. You care, too." When Kuwabara rolled his eyes (but didn't deny what I'd said, because we both knew that this team cared), I picked up my mixing bowl again. "The point I'm trying to make is that while we might not like the fact that Hiei is keeping his relationship to Yukina a secret, it's not our place to judge him for it, let alone force him to confess the truth to her."
Kuwabara's brow knit. "Even if Yukina is suffering for it?"
He wore sincerity on his chiseled features and sympathy in his dark eyes, and for a moment, I had no idea what expression I wore in return. Cooking proved a handy distraction from both his query and his curiosity. I put down my work with a clatter and cast about for a frying pan, but I didn't see one and began to open cupboard after cupboard. A pan availed itself on an upper shelf, but…
"Almost—!" I said, standing on my tiptoes, but my fingers barely brushed the pan's handle. I gave a hop, but it was no use. "Damn Keiko and her tiny little t-rex arms!"
Kuwabara reached over me and grabbed the pan with no trouble. "Always referring to yourself in the third person," he said with a chortle. "What are you, a feudal lord?"
"I wish. I could get face tattoos and look down on people."
"Face tattoos?"
"Never mind." I took the pan and set it on the stove. "Thanks. And I don't know. About Yukina, I mean." I shrugged. "I don't know what to do about her. But… all I know is that we can't make a choice for Hiei. We have to respect his decisions and be there for him, whatever he decides to do."
He didn't look convinced. "But what if the decision he's making is a bad one?"
"I don't know." Another shrug. "But I do know that someone as determined and honorable as him must have his reasons."
Kuwabara rolled his eyes. "Honorable, my ass."
I socked his arm, but gently. "Shut up," I grumbled with neither venom nor force. "Shut up, and just give it time." At his skepticism, I offered a smile. "Maybe Hiei isn't ready. Maybe there are forces at play that keep him silent that we just plain don't know about." This was the truth, although I did not present it as such. "Whatever the case, he'll tell her he's ready someday—or he won't. We just have to be there for him, and for her, when he does."
We cooked pancakes for a while in silence. Kuwabara didn't say much, but the lines between his eyebrows told me he had been given much to think about. When we made enough for the two of us, we piled the cakes high on plates and carried them to the table, where we ate in continued silence—silence I found unbearable, because it allowed my mind to wander, and my mind only causes trouble when allowed to meander unchecked. Despite my growing unease, Kuwabara didn't appear perturbed. He shoveled down bite after bite, contemplation eventually replaced by contentment.
"Damn, these are good," he said around a mouthful. "Nobody makes 'em like you do."
I fiddled with my fork. "Kuwabara…"
He looked up from his plate with cheeks packed full, comically squirrel-like. "Yeah, Keiko?"
"Are we… good?"
"Good?" He swallowed, loud in the quiet suite. "Good, how?"
"I dunno." I couldn't look at him. Said around a held breath: "Things got pretty awkward after Jin showed up."
"… oh." He put down his fork. "That."
I took a deep breath. "I feel like I owe you an apology."
"Keiko—"
"We had just had that talk, and then—there he was." Finally I raised my eyes to his, trying to look as contrite, as desperate, as sick inside as I felt (and as guilty as I felt for feeling that, because although I'd never admit it to Kuwabara, I had enjoyed my date with Jin more than I could say). Leaning toward him over my cold pancakes, I said, "I just need you to know that I didn't plan that. The whole thing with him was completely—"
"Keiko." My name cut the air like a falling cinderblock, and then Kuwabara looked me dead in the eye and said, "I get it." A beat passed. "And it's OK."
"… it is?"
"You did what you had to do," he said, shrugging—and truly, he didn't look bothered at all. No pain flashed across his face; no hurt entered his narrow eyes. In fact, a smile lit them up, and he picked his fork back up again. "Plus, you had a promise to keep. You always do what you say, so… that's that."
I sat there in silence, watching as he cut his pancakes into chunks. He downed a huge bite and grinned, gesturing at me with his fork.
"And besides," Kuwabara said. "After this tournament's over, he's gotta go back to Demon World. We're still going to Megallica together, which means… I win." Before I could react to that statement, or even process it completely, he pushed back his plate and stood up. "That was great. Nothing beats your food." He favored me with the most genuine of grins. "Wanna take the rest down to the others?"
"Oh. Yeah." I stood, too. "Sure."
If Kuwabara felt at all awkward about what he'd just said, he didn't show it. In fact, he whistled a tune between his teeth as we poured out and cooked all of the leftover batter, piling pancakes high on plates and tucking bottles of syrup under our arms to share with the others back in the boys' suite. I cradled a plate in each elbow and balanced more on each hand, years of restaurant training kicking in like a revved motorcycle. Kuwabara led the way out into the hall, and when it came my turn to follow, I found that the door had swung completely shut behind him. I stood there with full hands, staring at it, wondering how to juggle my load around so I could open the door (because even with my training, I couldn't open doors without hands)—but just as I prepared myself to try and somehow kick the door down, it swung open.
In the doorway, hand pressed against the wooden panel, stood Hiei.
We looked at one another in silence. Down the hall, Kuwabara whistled a happy tune, music getting further and further away with each passing moment. It was a Megallica song, I was pretty sure, but Kuwabara was almost too tone-deaf to tell.
Hiei inclined his head when Kuwabara whistled a particularly discordant note. "You're right, Meigo," he said. "I will tell Yukina when and if I'm ready, and not a moment sooner."
I nodded. "Yup."
"You'd do well to remember to respect that decision."
"Yup."
"You will tell Yukina nothing. And you'll caution the buffoon to do the same."
"Yup."
We stared at one another. Kuwabara kept whistling. Hiei looked… not angry. He'd seemed a little angry (or at least agitated) at first, but he'd cooled with each word he spoke. Now he just stared, as if I'd yanked a rug out from under him and had stopped him in his tracks. Perhaps he'd been looking for an argument? Well, I wasn't about to give him one. I just looked at him with bland placidity, no hostility or belligerence at all—and then his eyes flickered to the pancakes in my hand.
At that, I smirked.
Hiei saw (of course that three-eyed asshole saw). He blurred out of sight, a shadow in the night, and the weight of the plate balanced flat on my right hand disappeared. My arm rocked in place, trying to stabilize; Hiei reappeared with a laugh, backing out into the hallway with a stolen plate in tow.
I darted after him through the door, which had rapidly begun to swing closed, but he was nowhere to be found. "It's better with syrup, you little thief!" I hissed into the hallway—and then a wind stripped past and the bottle of syrup under my arm disappeared, elbow slapping painfully into my ribs in its absence.
Hiei reappeared before me, smirked, and vanished once again.
I wanted to get mad at him for being a food-thief as well as a bowl-thief, but as I trotted down the hall after the still-whistling and unaware Kuwabara, I found that I couldn't quite muster up any irritation. That smirk, so self-satisfied and… well, smirky made me think that, perhaps, Hiei had cooled off a little bit since we last spoke. Winning all his matches in the semifinals probably had more to do with it than anything I'd said or done, but…
At the end of the hall, I turned a corner and found Kuwabara waiting by the elevators. Hiei was nowhere in sight.
"Hey," Kuwabara said. "What took ya so long?"
I fell into place at his side with a smile. "Had to tie up some loose ends."
"Huh?"
"My shoes. I had to tie my shoes." The elevator dinged. "Anyway. Let's go."
Back in the boys' suite, Yukina became a quick and devoted fan of pancakes, with the request she next be allowed to try waffles. Atsuko's brunch education knew no limits, it seemed…
Food safely delivered, Kuwabara stationed himself in Yusuke's room—to keep watch, he said, in case any demons tried taking them out ahead of the tournament finals. The rest of our group, minus the absent Hiei and Kurama, seemed in high spirits as we ate a late lunch and chatted about the day's events. Botan looked much calmer now that Hiei had left, although her discomfort grew as Atsuko regaled Yukina with increasingly inappropriate stories about her exploits in the bars of Human World. I collected plates and washed up, listening with half an ear until people started standing up, dining room chairs squeaking over the wooden floor.
"Well, we should probably go get that beer," Atsuko said. "Right, Shizuru?"
"We do have some wins to celebrate." A smile colored her husky voice. "Think you'll be OK here with Botan, Yukina?"
"Yes. Of course," Yukina said.
Botan's bright laugh filled the suite. "I've been dying to braid that gorgeous hair of yours, anyway—oh, but Genkai. Where are you going at this hour?"
As if on cue, the suite's front door opened with a creak. "On a walk." She paused. Her voice held remarkably steady when she said, "All of you take care, will you?"
"Sure," Botan said, tone uncertain.
But Atsuko just cackled. "I make no promises!"
"Heh. Yusuke definitely takes after you, Atsuko," Genkai said.
"Would you like any company on your walk?" Yukina said.
"No. I'll be fine alone."
Heavy footfalls thudded out of Yusuke's bedroom. "Oh, Genkai, before you go," Kuwabara said, summoned by the goodbyes. "What did you think of that move I pulled on Shishiwakamaru? You inspired it, after you showed me and Yusuke how to repurpose someone else's energy, and I—"
Kuwabara and Genkai stood in the suite's small foyer for a minute or two, talking shop about energy manipulation and how his technique could use improvement (criticism he bore with his typical good humor; I got the sense he was used to her coarse methods of teaching by now). I listened with my heart in my mouth as Atsuko and Shizuru walked past them and out of the suite, bidding them casual farewells while Botan and Yukina moved into another of the bedrooms to talk. I stayed quiet in the kitchen as Genkai told Kuwabara to mind his energy expenditures (they were apparently sloppy), but as the door fell shut, she went quiet.
Kuwabara was far too perceptive not to notice her silence. "Genkai?" he said, concerned. "Are you OK?"
Her voice did the audible equivalent of someone straightening their posture when she said, "Kuwabara."
"Ma'am?" he replied.
"You have a good heart. Use it."
"A good heart? What do you—Genkai, wait!"
The door shut with a click, and I knew what Genkai was saying even if Kuwabara did not. Those were the same words she'd spoke in canon just before leaving to fight Toguro, which meant…
Adrenaline flooded my chest and neck. I lunged for the refrigerator, wrenched it open, and grabbed a water bottle faster than I've ever moved before, all but sprinting for the suite's front door—and past a stammering Kuwabara, who wheeled toward me in shock.
"Hey," he said, "where are you—?"
"Just bringing Genkai some water for her walk; be right back!"
He shouted something after me, but I didn't hear it. I was too busy running for the elevators, skidding around the corner and hoping against all hope that I wasn't too late to catch her—and when I caught sight of her tiny frame in its pristine red and white robes, I stumbled to a halt, relief almost turning my knees to water. Genkai didn't appear impressed. Not that she appeared unimpressed, mind you. She just looked… blank. Eyeing me askance, silent. And although I had so much to say to her, the sight of her impassive eyes froze me momentarily in place. It was all I could do to clear my throat with a tight swallow. Luckily Genkai saw fit to take pity on me, breaking the silence as she turned to face the elevators once again.
To the elevators, Genkai murmured, "You know where I'm going, I take it."
It took all of my power to nod. "I do."
Her eyes cut my way again, considering. "And you're not going to try to stop me?"
It broke my heart to admit, "I couldn't stop you if I tried."
That got a smile out of her, wry though it may have been. "Good girl," she said, and she thumbed the 'down' button beside the elevator doors.
Numbers ticked down in the panel above the elevator, carriage coming down to our level from somewhere up above. It felt like the countdown on a bundle of dynamite, each passing second taking Genkai closer and closer to detonation. It felt like I should do something, say something, say anything to get this to stop, to bring Genkai to her senses—but wordy as I am, words in that moment failed me.
Again, Genkai broke the silence.
"Tell me one thing." She didn't look at me this time, eyes as locked in place as her hands behind her back. "What I'm about to do—will it break him?"
Her voice didn't waver. Her voice held quite steady. It was an honest inquiry, no more loaded than a question about the weather.
Genkai was many things.
This proved that a beautiful liar was most definitely one of them.
It was a good thing I didn't have to lie just then to comfort her. Looking at the truth with open eyes was asking too much, though, so I closed mine as I whispered, "Yes. It will break him… but he'll find his feet again soon enough."
Genkai huffed, and when I opened my eyes, I found her smiling. It was a small smile, just a curl of her lips at the corners, but it touched her eyes—and that's how I knew it was real.
"He'd better," she said, more to herself than to me. "But then again, I'd expect nothing less from my apprentice."
The elevator dinged, then, countdown hitting zero with not an explosion, but the quiet rush of two doors sliding open. Genkai stepped into the elevator car with a click of her heels, marching smartly into place like a solider to the front lines. I swallowed as she took up her position, licking my dry lips with an even drier tongue.
"Genkai," I said, softly. "Thank you for everything."
She smiled again, that smile that touched her eyes.
Genkai told me, "Take care of the dimwit for me, girl with many lives."
The doors slid shut between us.
To their unhearing breadth, I promised, "I will."
It was, after all, the least that I could do.
I took the stairs two at a time to the lobby, and I ran into the woods so I could be alone.
To be alone so I could wallow; let's be clear about my motives here. I went to the woods because I felt horrible. Like I'd betrayed everyone I loved by not saving Genkai from her fate—the fate only I knew of; the fate only I could prevent. But I couldn't prevent it, could I? Because Genkai's death was important. Because her death would enable my friends to win their fights.
Because her death was only temporary, I reminded myself. Because Genkai, like Yusuke before her, wasn't going to stay dead.
That fact didn't make me feel any better, though. Because it wouldn't stop people from being hurt in the meantime, and because… what if the story changed?
What if temporary became permanent, after all?
I followed the path to the tournament's first stadium, then veered off it and into the woods, where I found a pretty little clearing not too far from the beaten track. Clouds overhead turned blue skies gray, threatening rain like they had on my date with Jin. I walked to the middle of the clearing and flopped down in the long grass, throwing my arm across my face to blot out the sight of gray-on-blue. Would the skies open up the minute Genkai died like some bad movie cliché? I couldn't quite remember if that had happened in the anime or not.
But then again, lots of things I couldn't remember in the anime were happening.
Case in point: the object in my pocket currently jabbing into my ribs. Not opening my eyes, I slipped my hand inside the kangaroo pouch of my sweatshirt and just held onto it, fingers tracing the winding length of the headphones wrapped around the iPod's slim rectangular outline. Eventually I worked up the courage to pull it out of my pocket and actually look at the thing. It was an ordinary iPod with a headphone jack and a spot for a charge cord at the bottom, volume rocker and power button sleek and silver atop white glass.
Why had Hiruko given this to me? Better yet, where the hell had he even gotten it?
Gingerly, as if worried I'd disturb a coiled viper, I unwrapped the gray and white headphones, catching sight of my pinched face in the iPod's reflective glass. It certainly looked ordinary enough, at least to me. No doubt anyone else in this world, with the exceptions of Kagome and Minato, would find it alien indeed.
Should I risk turning the device on? Did it have music on it? Would it even work? Or was this a test that would explode and kill me if I didn't resist temptation? Killing me didn't seem like Hiruko's style, but the most burning question still remained.
Why had Hiruko given me this damn iPod?
And more importantly yet…
"How the heck am I gonna charge this thing?" I whined.
"Charge?"
I leapt and screeched and sat bolt upright, shoving the iPod into my pocket and out of sight—but it was only Kurama who stood a few feet away looking deceptively innocent. He smiled like he didn't know full well that he'd just scared me out of my skin, and if he'd noticed the iPod, he gave no sign of it. Green eyes didn't divert their attention to my pocket as I stood up, anyway—a pocket that suddenly felt like it had caught fire.
"Hey." My face was on fire, too, although I tried to compose myself (and failed, if the glitter in Kurama's eye was any indication). "What're you doing here?"
He gave an absent nod. "Kuwabara said you left to take water to Genkai."
"Oh. Yeah. I did."
"And that you didn't return." Here he glanced at my hands. "Or give her water at all, it seems."
I was still holding the water bottle I'd picked up when I left the suite. I'd forgotten I'd been holding it. Like an idiot. I shoved the incriminating object into my hoodie pouch and scowled, but Kurama's brow just lifted, not at all perturbed by my glare.
"Why did you run after her, if not to give her water?" he said.
I shrugged. "Just wanted to talk to her, is all."
"Kei." He took one quick step in my direction. "I think you know well enough by now that I can tell when you're hiding things." Kurama looked me over briefly; I have no idea what he saw. "And you're hiding something now."
"Can you pretend not to be perceptive for once?" I grumbled. "Just humor me a little?"
"Alas, I'm afraid that isn't in my nature."
"No. I suppose it isn't." Sensing he wasn't going to give this up without a fight, I hauled off and told him, "You ever watch a train barrel toward a brick wall?"
"I can't say I have."
"Well. Imagine were looking at one right now, and you could stop it, and it would be a good thing, but a bad thing at the same time." I sighed and rolled my eyes. "And then imagine the headache when you get when you think about how mad people will be no matter which option you choose."
He had the decency to look sympathetic, at least. "You have quite the trolley problem on your hands."
"Yup." Another sigh. "It's a bummer."
"Perhaps explaining the details of this particular trolley problem in terms a touch less vague might prove remedial?" he suggested with undue delicacy.
"Nope." I shook my head. "I don't think it will. Not this time, at least."
"You don't have to shoulder these things alone." Kurama offered a small smile, but it held obvious fatigue. Whether he was tired of telling me this or just plain tired, I couldn't say. "But you know that already."
Softly, I told him, "I do."
Kurama knew better than to pry too much. He wasn't the type to give up without a fight, but he also knew I was a stubborn asshole who didn't take kindly to being browbeaten. So he just smiled, and sat beside me in the grass, and gazed about at the trees and shrubs and cloudy sky in silence, presence as steady as the earth beneath my feet. It was comforting, that silence—and when words bubbled in my throat, guts longing to be spilled in the presence of comfort, I realized he'd calculated my reaction. That tiny little smile on his face said it all.
In response, I clenched my teeth. Spoke through them to ask, "So. How did the Toguro semi-finals go?"
He looked disappointed, but he got over it quickly, smoothing past his failed plans without a hiccup. Still, Kurama's smile faded when he said, "As expected. They won, and decisively, even without the help of their team captain.
A team captain whose whereabouts I knew of, since he was currently off killing one of our teammates—but I refused to wince, holding as still as I could while Kurama continued to speak.
"After Karasu dispatched the first contender, the elder of the Toguro brothers slaughtered the remainder of the opposing team on his own." He spoke with clipped deliberation, detached and cold. "It was a calculated display of power, I'm sure, intended to signal that they will take no prisoners during our bout." Kurama's chin lowered, green eyes hood and tense. "They made that abundantly clear in the tunnels afterward, as well."
I shifted toward him. "What do you mean?"
"The demon named Karasu. He spoke to me." Kurama swallowed. "Made it clear that my match will be against him."
"You look worried," I said (and indeed, he looked a little gray, graceful features more haggard than usual).
But Kurama only chuckled. "Do I?"
"Either worried or like you're about to throw up."
"And here I thought I had perfected my poker face," he said with easy humor. "Looks like more training is in order."
I nudged him with my elbow. "Don't be glib."
"I'm not. I do need to train." Humor faded into calm resolve. "Because every mental simulation I've run ends in the same way: with my death at Karasu's hands."
Like Genkai, he spoke without gravity, as effervescent as soda bubbles on a mild spring day—but the words themselves were darker than that. Obviously they were darker than that. And yet my brain did not want to process them, at first, churning and spinning at the disharmony wrought by paradoxical content and tone.
That's why it took me far too long to shudder and mumble, "Don't talk like that."
"Unfortunately, the situation calls for an unvarnished analysis," he said with more of that clinical detachment. "If I'm unable to win my match, Kuwabara, Yusuke, Genkai and Hiei will have to be flawless in theirs if we are to survive as a team."
I shuddered again. "Don't be so fatalistic!"
"You're developing a habit of issuing ultimatums," Kurama observed.
"Yeah, because I don't like hearing someone I care about talk about dying like it's nothing more than—"
Genkai's face flashed across my mind's eye; my throat thickened as if gripped by allergic reaction, tightening until it squeezed off speech and rendered me silent. My eyes pricked, and although I looked away, Kurama saw it all. At once he'd found my hands, gripping them in his as he earnestly peered into my averted face.
"I promise you that I am not being fatalistic without cause," he said, words low and urgent and full of warning. "I will make every attempt to win my match against that demon, or against any demon that threatens us." He hesitated, the most infinitesimal of stutters, but Kurama pressed on soon enough. "But the fact remains that a gulf exists between myself and Karasu—and I am not certain it is one I can overcome in time for the final matches." Hands tightened around mine. "Not without assistance, that is."
Right on cue, assistance declared in the haughtiest voice imaginable, "Then it's a good thing I'm here, isn't it?"
At sound of that pronouncement, a smile broke across my face. Kurama didn't see that smile. He was on his feet too fast, pulling me up and putting me behind him as he faced the newcomer, who had appeared at the edge of the clearing, with the speed of a lightning strike. Our new friend only waved a hand however, dismissing him with a roll of his brilliant blue eyes.
"Calm down," he said. "I'm not here for revenge."
"Revenge?" Kurama looked the man over with a sneer. "If I defeated you in combat, I can't say it left an impression."
He looked affronted, gasping in shock and disbelief. "Come, now! Don't you remember this face?"
"Probably not, to be honest," I piped up. "Last time we saw it, it was kind of a mess."
The blue eyes narrowed. "Keiko," he said, sounding somehow satisfied and aggravated at once. "Nice to see you again."
"Nice to see you too, Suzuka." I grinned, stepping out from behind Kurama with a laugh. "Do you still require 'the beautiful,' or are we past that?"
Suzuka pouted. He looked nothing like the old man Onji with whom I'd shared breakfast days before, nor did he resemble the clown-costumed rapscallion who had played puppeteer to the entire Fractured Fairy Tales Team. He had appeared to us in his true form—that of a handsome man with piercing blue eyes and blonde hair worn spiked up atop his head, dressed in a simple pair of breeches and a loose shirt. Of course, he still sported a black eye and a bandage on his cheek after the beating Genkai had given him in the semifinals, so it was no wonder Kurama didn't recognize him.
Suzuka took a moment to compose himself, recovering enough to wave his hand in arrogant dismissal once again. "Let's just say I've evolved since the last time we spoke and be done with it," he said, cheeks turning the smallest bit red in the process.
"The beautiful Suzuka," Kurama murmured, studying him with renewed interest—although the interest shifted gears a moment later, circling back around to me in due time. "But how do the pair of you…?"
I grimaced. "Do you really wanna know?"
Kurama paused before saying, "In spite of my burning curiosity, no. I don't." To Suzuka he added, "If not for revenge, then why are you here?"
"To see you, Kurama." He rolled his eyes. "And that human who bested Shishiwakamaru, much though it pains me to admit he has piqued my interest. But it seems I'll have to look farther afield for him, however, as I have something to give to each of you."
Kurama's eyes narrowed. "Forgive my reluctance to accept a gift from a former enemy."
Suzuka scoffed. "Come now. You aren't the least bit curious about the mysteries of the Idun Box?"
Kurama stiffened; Suzuka smirked, knowing his hook had landed him quite the prize fish. From his pocket he pulled a small, round vial made of glass, sealed with a wax-covered cork at the top of a short spout. In the chamber of the vial floated an odd… fruit, I guess. I knew it was a fruit thanks to the anime, although it hardly looked like one in real life. The most generous fruit metaphor I can concoct is that it resembled a shriveled plum, mostly because it was purple, but it was shaped nothing like a plum at all. Rather, it resembled a desiccated heart—as in an anatomical heart, not a Valentine's Day heart. The fruit swam in pale purple liquid the color of blood trapped in veins, and although Kurama wore a perfectly neutral expression as he took the vial from Suzuka, I knew he had to be excited indeed. Not that he allowed himself to show it on his face, of course. He was far too good a liar to allow for a slip-up in that respect.
… but perhaps I was staring a little too closely at Kurama, waiting for him to react, because he seemed to take my expectant stare for one asking for an explanation. He held the vial toward me, although only so I could look at it more closely. Kurama wouldn't let go of that fruit if you paid him.
"You weren't there to witness my semifinal match against Uraurishima, so allow me to clarify what Suzuka has brought me," he said. "The fighter I faced in the semifinals wielded the Idun Box, which emitted a fog that reverts those exposed to it to a weakened state, turning back the clock on their age until they are rendered helpless. One of the tournament referees, Juri, was changed to the form of a toddler." He glanced at Suzuka, undisguised satisfaction on his face. "But the effects on me were unexpected, to say the least."
Suzuka huffed, arms crossing over his chest. "Oh, don't look at me like that," he said, cross. "I had no way of knowing that you were the Kurama, legendary bandit long thought dead in Demon World!"
"And thus, you could not predict that I would revert to the form I possessed in my previous life," Kurama said, smoothly transitioning back to the topic at hand. "My powers, too, returned in full. Uraurishima stood no chance." He eyed the fruit again, speaking almost absently to Suzuka. "I had hoped to fight you in the finals when Uraurishima said that you had supplied him with the box. When Genkai took the final match, I had thought my chance to learn the secrets of the Idun Box had passed—but here you are. Bearing the secret, freely given." He looked more than a little skeptical of the whole scenario, but when Suzuka just shrugged, Kurama said, "I presume this fruit had something to do with my transformation."
"Indeed," Suzuka said. Pride glowed in his every pore, then. "The Fruit of Past life, plucked from a remote location in Demon World by none other than my discerning hand, produces a potent elixir that returns an individual to a previous state. Quite the impressive feat of artificery, if I do say so myself." He pointed at the fruit, chin lifting so he could declare, "If you can get the dosage squared away, perhaps your previous form, and the power it contains, could be within reach again."
"'Could be,'" Kurama quoted. "The hypotheticals are admittedly worrisome."
Annoyance flashed across Suzuka's features, although it soon changed to a look of resignation. "Use it or don't. It's no concern of mine," he said, voice flat.
"But why?" Kurama asked. "Why give this to me, a former foe?"
"Because while I may hate your team, I despise Toguro even more." Suzuka bared his teeth, a low growl issuing from between them. "He beat me once, you know. A long time ago, not that he'd remember. He humiliated me. Called me a weakling not even worth killing. I entered this tournament to make him regret underestimating me. To prove that brains can overpower brawn, if given the right incentive. To prove that underdogs are more than they seem—but the true underdogs of this tournament are not on my team. Alas." Here he glanced in my direction, though his attention returned to Kurama swiftly enough. "Let's just hope you can succeed where I failed, using the inventions of my making, and bring that bastard down."
Although Kurama continued to look distrustful, Suzuka paid him no more mind; he'd done what he'd come there to do and he'd said what he'd come there to say, and that was that. Instead Suzuka turned to me. I expected him to bid me a pithy goodbye, maybe allude to the things I'd told him about Team Urameshi during our shared brunch the other day, but he did not. He just… looked at me. Like he was trying to read a passage of an obscure book, eyes narrow and brow tense.
I'll admit that the look unnerved me. "What? Something on my face?" I said, fiddling with the end of my bangs.
Suzuka scowled. "Don't play coy. I know you're hoping that you'll get something, too."
"Am I, now?"
"Yes," he said, as if the answer should be perfectly obvious. "My inventions are quite the commodity, after all. And you were brazen enough to request one when you asked me for a favor the first time we met." He held out a hand. "Wrist."
"Uh…" I extended my arm. "Okay?"
He grabbed my arm with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other, shooting Kurama a look that said Kurama was overacting when he stepped forward, hands outstretched as if to push Suzuka away. From his pocket Suzuka pulled a bracelet made of red cord, braided into a loop, bearing two dangling drawstrings tipped in tiny white beats. In the middle of the bracelet lay a flat disc of white stone with a hole in the middle, through which the bracelet's cord had been expertly knotted. It looked kind of like a Chinese 'bi' disc, only not made of green jade like I'd seen so many times before. Whatever it was, Suzuka slipped it quickly over my hand and around my wrist, tightening it against my skin with nimble fingers. The stone disc glowed unexpectedly warm against my pulse point, as if it had already been heated by contact with someone else's skin.
"As expected, red is your color," Suzuka muttered, eyeing over my handiwork. He dropped my wrist and smirked. "Looks good… but even if it clashes with your outfit, I wouldn't take it off, if I were you."
At once I started tugging at the thing. "If you strapped a goddamn bomb-bracelet to my wrist—"
"Relax," Suzuka said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "It's nothing like that." Quicker than my eyes could follow, he snatched up my wrist, fingers playing over the stone disc attached to my new jewelry. "This is a kinetic stone."
Kurama (who had calmed down somewhat, although he still stood in close protective stance beside my elbow) frowned. "A kinetic stone?"
Suzuka puffed out his chest, placing a hand self-importantly upon it. "A name of my own invention, of course, granted to a stone tossed by water and rain until a hole formed through its heart. Exceedingly rare, as you might imagine. I had to polish it for aesthetic appeal, of course, and it was an utter nightmare to track down in the first place—"
Dubiously I asked, "If it's so rare, why are you just giving it to me?"
He smiled. "Afraid you'll owe me? Well, fear not." He turned up his nose quite snottily. "The thing is entirely useless!"
My jaw dropped. "If it's so useless, why are you giving it to me!?"
"Useless for me might not mean useless for you," Suzuka retorted. "A kinetic stone draws in ambient energy from the surrounding environment, creating a potent psychic field around the stone that only grows stronger with time." He jabbed a finger at the stone, nail clacking when it made contact. "That stone travelled for millennia before I got ahold of it, and it continues to draw in ambient forces even now—but at its own laborious pace." Suzuka heaved the single most longsuffering sigh I had ever heard in my life and shook his head with pronounced displeasure. "I wanted to use it like a battery, augment my energy with the surplus psychic force emanating from the stone, but the energy the stone gathers isn't compatible with mine. It's slow, like a glacier inching across the land, rigid and immense and utterly useless in something as fast-paced as a fight."
"And you think it might be compatible with me?" I said with a glower. "Because if so, you basically just called me 'immensely useless,' and that's not exactly flattering."
"Oh, don't be dramatic," he said (and he kept talking before I could point out that this command was incredibly ironic coming from him, of all people). "This kinetic stone was an experiment that went nowhere, and whether or not you'll be able to make use of this object is no real concern of mine." Another of his eye-rolls, so exaggerated it was a wonder he didn't give himself a concussion. "But of all the inventions I possess, this is the only one I thought might stand a chance of granting the ridiculous request you made over breakfast."
Kurama glanced at me. "Breakfast?"
Suzuka ignored him, as was his wont. Spreading his hands in a defeated shrug, he said, "Who knows? Maybe some of this ancient, excess energy will rub off on you, Keiko… provided you don't take the stone off in five minutes like yesterday's fashion." He shrugged again, beleaguered smile all the more pronounced. "But then again, maybe it won't. Either way, you get a pretty bracelet in the bargain. Isn't that what girls your age enjoy, anyway?"
"I'm fifteen, not five," I snapped—but as I stared at the stone on my wrist with new understanding, my ire cooled. "Well… thanks. I think. And it is pretty."
Suzuka chuckled under his breath. "Right. Well." Without preamble, he spun on one heel so he could saunter off toward the edge of the clearing. Over his shoulder he added, "For the record, I hope you were correct when you said that your team's convictions would carry them through this tournament. All my ambitions ride upon your shoulders, now. So best of luck to both of you. And you, Keiko—after this is said and done, look me up if you're ever in Demon World."
I shot a glare at his retreating shoulder blades. "What, you want me to write you a report on how your gadget works?"
"No." One blue eye regarded me over his shoulder, mouth beneath it pulled into a boisterous grin. "I just think we could get into some trouble, you and I, and that it might be fun." He lifted a hand before I could react, waving two fingers through the air. "Au revoir, now. And try not to die the day after tomorrow. I'd hate to have come all this way only to go home disappointed…"
After he left, we stood in the clearing in silence, each with our hands curled around the objects Suzuka had granted us. The only detail that betrayed my bracelet's magical nature was its warmth—that odd warmth that didn't fade, always remaining just a few degrees hotter than my skin. Or was it merely warm from Suzuka's grip? I couldn't say for certain. I just traced the disc's edges with a fingertip, studying its opalescent surface centimeter by centimeter.
After a while, Kurama cleared his throat. "This request you made of Suzuka," he said, tone flat. "Care to explain?"
I shrugged. "That big brain of yours should be able to figure it out."
"You asked him to grant you psychic powers."
"Bingo."
"That was reckless of you, Kei."
"Hey, he said no," I replied—but then I looked at the bracelet and grimaced. "At least, he said no when we got breakfast the other day. Apparently he changed his mind."
"Am I to assume you knew of his proclivity for invention before the semifinals, then?" Kurama said. "From the legend?"
I pasted on a sunny grin. "See? You didn't need me to explain a thing. That's exactly right." But when Kurama only stared, not amused in the least, I sighed and let the smile fade. "And you heard him. He's not even sure if this thing will help me. Seeking him out netted me nothing more noteworthy than a pretty bracelet, in the end. Oh well." I glanced at the vial in his hands. "But more importantly, what are you going to do with that fruit?"
Kurama did not reply. He studied the fruit, turning it over in his hands and watching the way the fruit moved inside its prison. Muted sunlight glanced off the crystal in rainbow bursts, dazzling the eyes whenever it caught sun peeking through clouds. Kurama didn't seem to mind even when the prismatic light crossed his face. He only stared, gaze distant, and turned the vessel around and around again.
I put a hand on his elbow. "Everything OK?"
His mouth thinned. "That remains to be seen."
I waited for him to continue. To elucidate, explain, wax poetic about why he held such hesitation in his eyes. He did none of these things, however. He only stared, as if he could see through the fruit's wizened skin and into its hidden heart.
"Not to put too fine a point on it," I said when the silence grew too cloying, "but you were just talking about how there's a gap between you and Karasu and how you'd need help to cross it." When he still did not speak, or even look at me, I put a hand on his elbow once more. I implored, "Could this help you, Kurama? Your demon form was powerful, as I understand it." (As I knew it, I wanted to say, but I did not.) "So if this thing could give you a boost…"
He shook himself, as if waking from a deep sleep. "Yes. It could close the distance between that demon's powers and my own." His eyes returned to the fruit again. "But I wonder at what cost."
I frowned; in the anime, there had been no costs to using the fruit, and he had not seemed at all reluctant to use it. This, therefore, was new, and I had to ask, "What do you mean?"
"It's difficult to explain," he said—and even saying that took some time, each word chosen with laborious care. "I'd like time to think before I answer."
I raised my hands in a 'hands off, your move' gesture. "OK. Sure. Sleep on it if you need to." I grinned, hoping I looked confident. "You've got all day tomorrow to train, maybe plan how you'll test the fruit—because I know you'll want to test it and stuff—so just rest up for now and think on it, all right?"
His eyes shut, smile lifting his face. "You know me well." When our eyes met, his held apology, however slight. "For now, allow me to ruminate upon the possibilities."
"And you'll let me know if I can help at all?" I said.
"I will." Kurama's mouth quirked. "And I will resist asking you if you know what will happen if I decide to use the fruit for its intended purpose."
He might've been joking, but the gravity in his voice brought out the gravity in mine. "That's a decision you'll have to make on your own," I said with a sad, slow shake of my head—and then I added a smile, not to mention a quick wink. "However, the consequences of your decision aren't something you have to shoulder alone. But you know that already."
That got a laugh out of him. "An eloquent offer, Kei. I'm impressed."
"I learned from the best," I said, and after he stowed the Fruit of Past Life inside a pocket of his robe, I looped an arm through his and grinned. "Now c'mon. Let's head back to the others. They'll be wondering where we've been."
Kurama remained subdued as we walked out of the woods and back onto the path that would lead us to the hotel. It wasn't hard to guess the cause of his mood; in fact, he'd outright told me that he was worried about what side effects he would endure if he used the Fruit of Past Life to regain his demonic form. I wasn't sure what he suspected the side effects might be, but if he was hesitating, he no doubt suspected something pretty bad—but was he worried about physical effects, or more metaphysical ones? I had a unique window into his mindset, and that insight made me suspect the latter. Both Kurama and I had worked hard to cultivate our present-day personas and lives. Reverting to the self of the past all at once? What consequences would that wreak on who we were today?
Not that I was exactly like Kurama in this sense. If someone used the fruit on me, I'd just be a human turning into another human. That would be a horrible shock to the system, I imagined, but Kurama would be swapping entire species. Who's to say using the fruit wouldn't have concrete impact on his human life? The anime hadn't hinted at it overmuch, and in it, he'd used the fruit to defeat Karasu without negative consequence, but the possibility was still there. After all, weirder things had happened in this version of canon so far.
Whatever the case, I'd support him no matter what… although thinking about the subject suddenly had me wondering what would happen if I took the potion. Would I turn into the person I once was? Or would I just become a toddler version of myself, just like Juri had experienced when she was exposed to the fruit's magical smoke?
I was so busy imagining the possibilities of the Fruit of Past Life that I only realized someone was calling my name when Kurama stopped walking and slipped his arm free of my own, murmuring at me to look ahead. Further up the path, Kuwabara had appeared, running toward us with one arm waving frantically above his head.
"Hey!" he bellowed, skidding to a stop before us. "Where the heck have you two been? And did you see Yusuke go by?"
"Yusuke?" Kurama said.
"Yeah, Yusuke! He woke up and ran out of the hotel room like a bat outta hell," Kuwabara said, looking left and right and up and down the path. "I tried chasing after him, but then guess what? That 'Beautiful Suzuka' guy showed up, and I lost him!"
Kurama ah-ed in understanding. "We just ran into Suzuka as well. He mentioned seeking you out. I trust he gave you a gift, too."
"Yeah, but I wish he'd kept it to himself! Take a look at this!"
Kuwabara thrust out his hand, grimacing and making a small noise like he'd just seen something unexplainably gross. Between his thumb and index finger he held a long object wrapped in strips of white and blue cloth—the hilt of a katana, by the looks of it. But he held it like it might bite him, face contorted into a mask of disgust and fear.
"This weird doodad powered that Banshee Shriek sword-thing that Shishiwakamaru used in our fight," Kuwabara explained, still holding the hilt as though it might grow teeth and bite his arm off. "Suzuka said it came from a tree that drained the life force out of all the other plants and animals and stuff nearby—and he just wants me to hold it with my bare hands!" Shaking the sword up and down a few times, Kuwabara looked at Kurama and I for validation. "That's crazy, right?"
"Oh, definitely—and creepy, too!" I thrust out my hands. "Let me see!"
Kurama's brows shot up. "Are we certain that's wise?"
Kuwabara snatched back his prize, momentarily forgetting to be afraid of it. "Kurama's right—no way am I lettin' you touch this, Keiko!" He shoved the hilt into his pants pocket, but then he paled and yanked it back out again, holding it once more between two reluctant fingers. "Hell, even I don't wanna touch it."
"Did Suzuka say what it might do for you?" Kurama asked.
"Not really; he said its abilities depend on the wielder or somethin' like that. But like hell am I gonna test it and see!" he said, all but shouting the last line at the hilt in his hand. Shaking himself, Kuwabara stalked away down the path, eyes roving over the trees. "Anyway, I'm gonna go look for Urameshi; he's probably gonna get into some kind of trouble and get himself killed, and even if I'm not team captain anymore, there's no way I'm gonna let him be late for the finals!"
Kuwabara talked about Yusuke getting killed with remarkable composure, but rather than feel reassured, a chill skated up my neck. "Oh, have a little faith," I called after him, voice regrettably desperate. "You'll all do great. OK?"
Kuwabara shot a disgruntled glance over his shoulder. "Maybe so, but we should still have a strategy meeting or something tonight so we can hash crap out in case we bite the bullet." He threw up his hands with a cry of frustration. "Urk, he's gonna be on the other side of the island by now! Gotta run; bye! See you later!"
Kurama watched Kuwabara's retreating figure closely, staring after him with the shrewd expression he reserved for particularly tricky math problems and exceedingly annoying teachers at school. It wasn't an expression he often levied at his teammates. Was he considering the potential effects of Kuwabara's gift from Suzuka? Recalculating the likelihood of surviving the tournament now that the team possessed two new powerups? If he was rerunning his mental simulations of his fight against Karasu now that he possessed the Fruit of Past Life, I wanted to know what he saw (mostly to see if it matched up with his fruit-powered victory over Karasu in canon). Would he talk about it whenever the team held their next strategy meeting?
At that meeting, would Kuwabara and Kurama once more talk so casually about getting killed?
They'd both done it that afternoon. Both had spoken the possibility of death into the universe as though the universe couldn't hear them, and each time it had had the same effect on me: a spike of anxiety followed by a feeling of impotent despair. It would've made me feel a little better if I'd been able to comfort them, but I didn't have any practical means of soothing their worries or helping them prepare. They were the ones with powers, not me. What else could I do but twiddle my thumbs while my friends prepared themselves for the possibility of a painful and bloody demise?
My friends who were children, I reminded myself.
I shivered again. I turned to Kurama, wanting to ask him if he thought he stood a better chance against Karasu now, seeking comfort and affirmation from his rich green eyes—but just as I reached once more for his arm, he jerked away, spinning in place to face the forest, eyes wide and brimming with startled, verdant color.
"No," he muttered, so softly I almost missed it. "It couldn't be."
I latched onto his arm, unable to help the alarm frothing in my chest. "Kurama, what's wrong?"
He started, looking at me with a small gasp. Kurama smoothed his features quickly, however, back into a neutral smile.
"It's nothing, Kei." He patted my hand, thumb tracing a soothing pattern on the back of my knuckles. "Just the wind."
Just the wind, he'd said—but far away, a flock of birds took flight above the trees, crows bursting into the sky with a whirlwind of cawing feathers, and I swore I heard a distant, echoing crash. Kurama's arm snaked around my shoulders before I could ask him if he'd heard it, too. He forced me into step beside him, voice cheerful and gentle as he said we should find our friends, steering me back toward the hotel and away from the dark forest. When I peered up into his face, he smoothed the tension from his eyes at once—but not fast enough. I saw the pain. I saw the fear. I saw the uncertainty he tried to hide from me.
And I knew exactly what he had sensed, even if he wouldn't admit it.
Just as we stepped into the hotel lobby, I heard another distant boom.
Behind us, rain began to fall.
NOTES:
Hope you liked this!
NEW CHAPTER OF DAUGHTERS OF DESTINY IS UP! Fic is almost complete, yaaay.
Chapter 100 is going to come at a weird time, because I'll be in Japan for two weeks(ish) from February 24 until March 6. Which means my schedule of updating biweekly will fall in the middle of my trip. Yikes.
So: I'll be updating in three weeks on Sunday, March 8. Hopefully having three weeks to write the chapter instead of the usual two will be enough time despite my travels. If I can't update in that time, I'll have the chapter up on March 14 at the latest. International travel just has a way of messing with your schedule, haha.
I'll be doing a little gift giveaway in celebration of chapter 100, BTW. So definitely tune into that chapter for details!
Many thanks to all those who found the time to R you give me life and water my crops. I will read your words in Japan when I need a boost. See you soon, and thanks again to these fine folks: noble phantasm, InfinityMars, Kaiya Azure, psychobob35, mothedman, xenocanaan, Archaeological, tequilamockinbur, MissIdeophobia, IronDBZ, LadyEllesmere, rezgurnk, Call Brig on Over, vodka and tea, MyWorldHeartBeating, Aris2302, EasilyAmused93, DeathAngel457, EdenMae, Sorlian, RedPanda923, Thornsilverfox, Lady Milk tea, Kitty ryn, Yakiitori, buzzk97, C S Stars, OdinsReaper, wing of butterfly, Slytherclaw Queen, tammywammy9, cestlavie!
