Warnings: None


Lucky Child

Chapter 110:

"Real or Not, I Will"


About two miles into our walk, I began to suspect that Hiei didn't know where the hell he was going.

We'd been walking for quite a while, after all, though deserted, late-night streets past many darkened windows, moths fluttering around streetlamps on soundless, powdered wings. They ignored us, and Hiei ignored them, intent on taking me to—somewhere. I tried asking a few times, but he ignored me, too. His jaw remained set. His eyes remained forward. His feet hit the pavement step after step, unfaltering and purposeful. Perhaps he knew the way to somewhere, after all.

Hell if I knew. I just trailed behind him, muttering that this had better be good and not totally anticlimactic. I was exhausted, fresh out of aikido and an emotional existential discussion. My backpack felt heavier with every step we took, feet sore from running sprints. The only place I wanted to be after miles of walking was, predictably, bed.

"All I'm saying is that this had better be worth the trip," I said to Hiei's belligerent back. "Because if it's not, so help me—"

Hiei shot a glare over his shoulder.

I shut up, fast.

He took me to a park, in the end, near the outskirts of town but not entirely too far from the restaurant where I lived. A tree-filled pocket of flowering plants and picturesque fountains, elegant lamps on posts lighting the gravel paths winding through glens and clearings, a grass slope beside an outdoor amphitheater, and then a patch of untamed park behind it—a lovely place, but not one I'd ever picture Hiei frequenting. Too pretty; needs more blood and guts. I almost stopped walking when he ventured down the park's winding path, confused and wondering just what we were doing somewhere so quaint and cute.

I didn't have to go far to find out.

We had walked only to the edge of the amphitheater when I spotted a figure on a bench. They huddled within an oversized hoodie, knees drawn up to their chest as a plum tree wept white flowers onto their shoulders. Hiei headed right toward them—out of character for his antisocial self—and it wasn't until I spotted the blue hair tumbling from the hoodie in a silken river that I realized who we were looking at. I stopped short, jaw falling wide open.

"Botan?" I said, incredulous.

"Huh?" She whipped around, gorgeous face pinched tight with worry. "Keiko?"

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"Why are you here?" she countered, equally as flummoxed.

"Better yet…" I turned to Hiei, hands travelling to my hips. "Why am I here and why is she here?"

He replied as simply as a slicing blade. "You're here because she needs to go home, and I've had my fill of arguing with a complete and utter fool."

Botan gasped. "Hiei! Don't say such things!"

Hiei didn't look at her, eyes instead boring straight into me. "Make her go home, Meigo," he repeated through grit teeth. "Make. Her. Go. Home."

"But Hiei—" said Botan.

"I wasn't speaking to you," he snapped, eyes as livid as burning coals. "So be quiet."

Botan shrank in her seat. I put a hand to my head. Hiei glared first at her and then at me, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Clearly he felt very strongly about Botan being in this park. Strongly enough to come find me in the middle of the goddamn night and bring me along on this very anticlimactic ride, to be specific. Which led me to wonder…

"Hiei… did you literally drag me all the way out here to—to—?" Words failed; I didn't have enough information to name his motives, so I just turned to Botan and asked, "Why the hell are you even here, exactly, and why the hell is it pissing off Hiei?"

"Well, I think it's because he lives close by," Botan said. "I followed him here after training ended, you see, and—"

I wheeled on Hiei in an instant. "You mean to tell me you dragged me all the way out here on a school night because Botan crashed your demonic bachelor pad?" I said, voice pitching high on the final syllables. "Really, Hiei? Really!?"

Hiei gave a wordless snarl. "Don't be stupid. She hasn't crashed anything." And then he raised his bandage-wrapped hand and pointed it at the bench. "I don't live on that bench, Meigo."

"But you probably live in this goddamn park, knowing your tree-sleeping ass."

"I don't sleep in trees."

"Experience has taught me otherwise. Or are we forgetting the Great Hiei-Keiko Road Trip of 1990?" I said with fake-ass sweetness. The sweet act dropped into a glower when I added, "Of which I thought we were about to undertake a sequel or something equally amazing, but noooo. You dragged me all the way out here to talk Botan out of crashing on your—"

I had been about to say "couch," but Hiei didn't have one of those (at least as far as I knew). Hiei tossed his hair and shot a glare right back at me, not fazed by my ire in the slightest.

"I don't give a damn if she sleeps on a bench," he sneered. "It just can't be that bench. So make her go home, Meigo. I won't ask you again."

Botan shrank in her seat on the aforementioned bench, cheeks flushing dark pink in the light of the streetlamp overhead. I hardly noticed, though. I was too busy staring at the bench, not to mention the suitcases I had just noticed sitting at Botan's feet. Was what Hiei said true? Was she actually planning on sleeping on that bench? The suitcases suggested she was headed somewhere, that was for sure, but she was supposed to be crashing at Atsuko's apartment with Yusuke. She'd mostly crashed there after she was ousted from Spirit World, with occasional stints spent at my house or Kuwabara's. So what gives?

"OK," I said after taking a very deep breath (one that did little to calm my nerves). "Let's reset and start at the top. Why are you here, Botan?"

Hands fidgeted nervously upon her lap. "Well. You see, Yusuke and I…" Botan gulped. "Well, we had a fight." Her chin ducked, cheeks flushing again. "So I…"

Magenta eyes darted toward Hiei and away again. Hiei's eyes only rolled in response.

"Don't care," he said, words acidic. "Talk to Meigo, not me."

"But Hiei—" Botan said, but it was no use. He had already flitted away in a flash of black, blurring out of sight in the space between passing moments.

"Leaving me to play team therapist, as usual," I muttered as I glared at the spot where he'd once stood. At the sky I shouted, in exasperated English, "Guess I'll just give Botan a pep-talk since it's the only thing I'm good for!"

"Keiko, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just dandy. Anyway." She scooched over so I could plop down beside her, weary feet stretched ahead of us upon the pavement. Putting on my very best Keiko Face, I told her, "Let's try this again. What did you and Yusuke fight about and why are you here, of all places?"

Botan turned away from me, eyes downcast. "It all started over breakfast," she said to her lap. "Atsuko has been making it for us ever since we returned from Hanging Neck Island. Says her tournament-winning son deserves to start off his days with a hearty breakfast." Her nose wrinkled. "Though between you and me, her cooking is a little…"

I mimed barfing. Botan giggled.

"Anyway," she said, tone much brighter and more 'Botan' than before. "I got up very early this morning to go train, and by the time I was all set to leave, Yusuke finally rolled out of bed, himself. Caught me just as I was leaving and asked where I was going so early, so I told him, and he just grunted and stalked off. I thought he was only tired and grumpy, as usual, but when I came home from training with Hiei this evening, he was already boiling over!"

"But what about?"

"The fact that I'd gone to train with Hiei, of course!" she said, voice rising in indignation. "He asked why I'd been gone for so long, and I said I was eager to train and get much stronger, and he—well, Keiko, he demanded to know why I wanted to get stronger, and then he said I should stop!"

"What? Stop?" That was a decidedly not-Yusuke thing to say. "Did he say why?"

"Well, I told him that we all know something big and bad and horrible is coming," said Botan. "You won't say what, but you look like you're having a stomachache every time we ask, so we know it's bound to be quite nasty—yes, Keiko, just like that! That's the face you make!"

"… oh." Seems my Keiko-mask had slipped. I forced my features back into a sympathetic smile. "And then what happened?"

Words exploded from her mouth, as if she had been chomping at the bit to carry on. "I just told him that whenever our next big emergency comes knocking, I want to be ready to meet him or her head-on!" The urgency in her eyes abated. "Although I suspect it will be a 'him.' Yusuke also thinks that the man who kidnapped you during New Year's Eve is probably going to be our next great enemy, so at least we agree on one thing."

"Oh." My features did not betray my emotions this time; I wouldn't allow them to. "Him."

Botan giggled, apparently not noticing my rigid posture. "Our little adventure to rescue Atsuko has given me quite a taste for derring-do, I confess." And then her urgency returned, understated and low. "I refuse to be a liability come the next time of trouble. I will have my Eye under control, and that's why I need to train, but Yusuke said he doesn't want me involved in what's coming. He said I should stay out of it, and that I shouldn't be so eager to help. He said he'd take care of it, and I should butt out." Her hands flew skyward like startled birds. "Can you believe him? What nerve! Of course he admits that we all need to be prepared and ready to meet any challenge without flinching, but me? He doesn't want me around!" Crossing her arms, she gave an assertive nod, rapid and sharp. "So I left. I left, and I tracked down Hiei, because unlike Yusuke, at least he understands me." Her shoulders sagged at last. "Or at least I thought he did."

"Wait." Normally I'd comfort someone looking so forlorn, but I had too many questions. "You went to Hiei… to feel understood?"

Botan nodded. "Yes."

"Understood as in supported?"

"Yes."

"Hiei."

"Yes."

"You went to Hiei," I said, "to feel supported?"

She swatted my arm. "Don't sound so shocked!"

"Hey, can you blame me?" I leaned away and out of reach. "The dude isn't exactly the portrait of a warm and comforting presence."

"You'd be surprised!" Botan chirped. "In winter, he's quite handy to have around."

I stared at her without blinking. "I'm going to try very hard and refrain from suspecting that you two cuddled on some cold winter's night."

"Cuddle?" She scoffed. "Who, Hiei?"

"That's the part you have trouble… ugh, never mind." I shook my head, resisting the urge to knead my temples. "The shippers are gonna have a field day."

"The what's are what?"

"Oh, nothing." I leaned back against the bench. "Nothing at all."

Botan let me think in silence; petals from the plum tree had tangled with her ponytail, white dotting pale blue like snow on the sea. It wasn't lost on me that this fight with Yusuke—a fight about danger and duty, impending perils and burgeoning battles—had occurred only a day after he and I talked about the future on my rooftop. He'd asked me when our next big emergency would come knocking… and come to think of it, Botan had used those exact same words, herself. Which meant Yusuke had likely said them to her. And that meant…

"Suspicious timing," I muttered.

"Beg pardon, Keiko?"

"Nothing. But like with everything else, I think I might've caused this problem. Even if it was just indirectly."

Botan's head listed to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Just that Yusuke is on edge, waiting for whatever comes next. He doesn't want you to get hurt, so he's pushing you away." I shrugged and heaved a sigh. "This is how he shows he cares, even if it's stupid as hell."

"Well if that's how he shows he cares, then I don't want it," she said, nose thrusting high into the air. "Telling me to butt out just isn't nice! And much though you doubt him, Keiko, I do think Hiei gets me. He at least understands my desire to get stronger. He certainly didn't turn me away when I asked to train both yesterday and today!"

Hiei's acerbic voice cut the air like fire cuts through foliage. "Wrong, ferrygirl," he said. "I don't get you."

He stood behind us just outside the puddle of light cast by the streetlamp above, barely visible amidst the nighttime shadows. His eyes glared plain as day, however, reflecting that light like the eyes of some watching beast.

"I agree with the detective, you see," he said, all sibilant derision and whispered mockery. "You'd do well to stay out of our way when the next thug like Toguro appears. We don't need your help in taking down demons—make no mistake about that."

Botan shot to her feet, rounding on him with a cry of, "Then why did you help me train today, Hiei!?"

"Because at this point you've thoroughly entrenched yourself as my student, and any shortcomings in your technique reflect poorly on me," he shot back—and then he snarled, teeth gleaming in the night. "And your triumphs, meanwhile, are also mine."

For some reason, Botan appeared quite smug about this, eyes narrowing as she smiled. "Still smarting over that, I see."

I looked between her and Hiei, confused. "Am I missing something?"

She turned to me with a ripple of silken hair. "These aren't our training grounds, Keiko," Botan said, all sweetness and light again. "After our training ended, I asked if I could crash wherever it is that Hiei spends his time, and he flashed away like he always does—but then I followed him here."

"You followed Hiei?" I repeated, unable to keep the skepticism at bay. "The flying shadow?"

She winked. "It's easy when you have the Eye for it."

It clicked like the hammer of a revolver. "You mean you used…?" I pointed at her forehead, blank between the earrings glittering on her earlobes. "To track…?"

"I'm actually quite good at finding someone, provided I know what their aura feels like," she said, preening like a pretty, powder-blue parrot.

And this, of course, rubbed Hiei in precisely the wrong way. "Don't celebrate your achievements so soon, ferrygirl," he growled. "If I had known you had mastered that little trick, I would've hid my presence, and you would never have found me."

"But you didn't hide your presence, and I did find you, Hiei!"

"An act you won't be repeating, I assure you." He turned to me at last, aiming an imperious finger at Botan. "Now can you get her out of here or can't you, Meigo?"

"What do you want me to do, carry her back to Yusuke's house?"

"If that's what it takes!"

"What, not enough tree branches for you to share or something?" I asked, sarcasm resplendent. "Or is whatever hideaway you're holed up in too full of stolen bowls to allow for a guest?"

"Just get her out of here, Meigo, now!" commanded Hiei, and once again he vanished into the darkness.

A moment of silence followed.

Botan ventured, "So is that how Hiei shows he cares, or…?"

"Never can tell with that guy." This was absolutely true. "Though if he's training you, I'm willing to bet he's mostly bark and not so much bite on this issue. But he's the type who needs his space, so…" I tried to look contrite. "Sorry, Botan. I don't think you should stay with him here. And not just because he might bite your head off. Sleeping in trees probably sucks for your back, anyway."

My poor attempt at a joke failed to make her lap. Head hanging, she said, "That's true. I just thought…"

'Glum' wasn't a good color on Botan. It dulled the sparkle in her beautiful eyes and pulled the smile out of her full lips. Hair hung limp against her cheeks, flower petals flecking strands the same color as her melancholy. She was a fish out of water in this situation. A woman set adrift on a sea of uncertainty, not sure what to do next—just like someone else I knew.

We were quite a pair, Botan and me.

So that's why I asked, "Did you want to stay with me, maybe?"

But Botan just winced. "No offense, Keiko, but… your parents aren't up to speed, and lying to them about who I am and why I'm sleeping over isn't my favorite pastime."

"Yeah." An understandable hesitation; I didn't like lying to them, either. "Well… what about Kuwabara?"

Botan appeared thoughtful for a moment. "He does have a spare bedroom," she mused, "but I've never been as close with him as I am with Yusuke." Her face fell even further. "Asking him for a place to stay feels…"

"Kuwabara wouldn't see it like that," I assured her. "Neither would Shizuru, for that matter." When Botan didn't look convinced, I added, "Shizuru think you're great; she'd much rather you stay with her than slum it on a park bench, and Kuwabara himself would never let you stay anywhere without a nice bed. He'd never, ever turn you away."

"But… the imposition…"

"Kuwabara would rather eat a toenail than let you sleep out in the open like this." I spoke firmly, but then I winked, because scolding Botan wouldn't make her feel any better. "And besides. He'd love to show Eikichi to someone who'd appreciate her."

The joke made her chuckle, cheer finally breaking through the storm clouds of her worry. "That's true," she said, smiling behind her hand. "Well. I suppose I don't have much of a choice, then. To Kuwabara's house I shall go." But clouds gathered once more in her eyes, pink darkening nearly to violet. "A shame, really. I was hoping…"

"What?"

Botan hesitated, but soon enough she whispered, "Hiei doesn't talk much about himself, but ever since Yukina went back to Demon World, I've been worried about him."

"Me too," I confessed. "But he isn't the type to talk about his feelings."

"No. He isn't. And I know better than to press." A sigh, wistful and resigned. "But I just…"

"Just what?"

She heaved another sigh. "What if he's lonely?"

It took a minute for me to process this—the sheer concept she'd proposed as well as the fact that she'd proposed it at all. "You really care about him, don't you," I said, and it wasn't really a question. I knew the answer because it was written all over her face.

Botan answered me anyway. "It might be silly, but… yes. I do." She nodded, sharp and matter-of-fact. "He's my sensei. I owe him so much."

"Oh, Botan," I said, half in awe, half in horror. Thanking the demon who had ruined her life and cursed her with that eye was beyond the realm of comprehension. It could mean only one thing: "You are the single most gracious…"

"Now don't go giving me too much credit!" she protested with a laugh. "Hiei wasn't himself when he cut me with the Shadow Sword. And from what he's told me, I mean that quite literally."

She sobered when she stopped speaking, once again lapsing into reflective silence as she stared at the petal-strewn pavement. The scent of plum blossom was almost as sweet as the sight of her agonized eyes, eyes that stared into the middle distance—and beyond. She had clearly already forgiven Hiei for his sins, but as for the "why" behind that… When she said Hiei hadn't been himself, was she alluding to the idea that his mind had been manipulated by Spirit World? Hiei had all but confirmed that this was the case many months prior; had he talked with Botan about that, too? But even so, to forgive him after he hurt her so badly…

Botan was a really good person.

I'd known that since even before I met her, but now, there could be no doubt.

She wasn't the type to take gushing compliments, though, bouncing to her feet too fast for me to press the issue of her inherent goodness. I was relieved to see a grin on her face as she grabbed her suitcase and pinned me with a bright smile. A Botan smile, to be specific. Looked like she was feeling better already, then.

"So will you walk me to Kuwabara's, Keiko?" she asked, rocking back and forth on her heels. "I'd appreciate the company."

"Sure."

She beamed, skipping off as I rose to my feet, too. I stopped because they were sore, however, taking a second to brace my hands on my hips and lean slowly backward. Eventually my back gave a satisfying crack, and I made to follow the reaper out of the park.

I didn't get far, however. There soon came a thump, and then Hiei appeared behind me in a rustle of black cloak. I turned to find his eyes shooting red sparks into the dark, frowning but not glaring as he'd been the last time I saw his face. Good. He recognized I'd done what he'd asked, then. He'd just better be grateful…

Jerking a thumb over my shoulder the way Botan had gone, I told him, "You'd better escort us to Kuwabara's. And then take me home, too."

His lip curled, revealing gleaming teeth. "As if any human in this town could hope to menace either one of you."

"Damn right," I said—but when his gaze intensified, the urge to preen faded. "Are you OK, Hiei?"

"Meigo," was all he said.

"Yes?" I replied.

"What Hiruko said to you as the stadium collapsed…"

I bristled, turning away out of sheer defensiveness. "Working on it."

"Then you've made no progress?"

"Like I said. I'm working on it."

"You're a poor liar."

"So they keep telling me," I muttered, and I followed after Botan.

Hiei fell into step beside me a moment later, and to my relief, he didn't press the issue of whether or not he was Real. Perhaps it was Botan's proximity that held him back from demanding answers. Perhaps he just saw the defeat in my face. Either way, he said not a word as he trailed after Botan, splitting the distance between me and her until I at last caught up with them both. Botan chattered about her upcoming training regimen and plans for her abilities as we trekked to Kuwabara's house, and when we arrived before it, she trotted up to the front porch while whistling a tune through her perfect teeth.

Neither Hiei nor I followed her, however. We stood on the sidewalk in silence until she reached the porch and knocked on the door. No one answered for a second, but lights shined in the front windows and in the upstairs bedroom, so I knew someone would soon let her in—and eventually they did just that. Kuwabara Sr. opened the door and let Botan inside after conversing with her for just a moment, welcoming her in with the widest of grins.

He spotted Hiei and I just before the door closed, however. Brushing his ponytail over his broad shoulder, he lifted a hand in greeting, staring in our direction through his round, tinted spectacles. I raised a hand in return as Hiei pivoted on his heel to walk away, feet silent on the damp spring sidewalk. I waited for Kuwabara Sr. to shut the door before turning away, myself—but just as I moved, movement in an upper window caught my eyes.

No one was there, however. The curtains lay still and serene against the window pane, undisturbed.

Hiei walked me the rest of the way home in silence, down empty streets and to the alley behind my parents' restaurant. He didn't bother waiting on me to get inside before leaving, though. As I fiddled with my keys, he once again spun and headed away, toward the mouth of the alley and the street beyond. I watched his retreating back without speaking, but around the keys, my hands soon stilled.

"Hiei?" I said, just as he reached the alley's end.

A single red eye appeared over his shoulder. "What?"

"Would you—" I stopped. Regrouped. Tried again: "If you were me, would you tell anyone about—"

"No," he cut in. "No, I wouldn't."

"But—"

"Something like that can only cause pain." He turned his head, scarlet eye disappearing into gloom. "Even I know not to inflict suffering so casually."

Hiei left, after that, leaving no space for argument.

I stood there in the dark, wondering if he was right, for far longer than I'd like to admit.

But soon, too tired to continue, I went inside and fell asleep.


The next time I saw Yusuke, I gave him a lecture about respecting the wishes of his friends and also about girls kicking ass, and it didn't take long for Botan to call me and offer her thanks. She reported that after getting an earful from me, he'd offered to help her train, himself, because at least (and I quote): "I'm less likely to kill you than shortstack, probably."

Botan (who was far less concerned than I was about the frankly suspicion "probably" tacked onto the end of Yusuke's explanation) just giggled and said, "Thank you, Keiko. You've always been able to talk sense into him."

"I may be small with weird hair, but I'm very effective," I told her over the phone. "And also, I'm pretty sure he'd do anything to patch things up with you."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Oh," I said. "It's nothing…"

She truly sounded like she didn't have a clue. Conversely, I couldn't forget the way Yusuke had blushed when I mentioned Botan to him during the Dark Tournament, not to mention the fact that she'd taken Keiko's place in the famous let-sleeping-Yusuke-lean-on-her scene during the semifinals. He pretended not to be bothered by Botan's constant interactions with Hiei, but I got the sense it nagged at him more than he liked to let on.

Not that he'd ever admit it, of course.

Yusuke was many things, but willing to admit to mushy feelings wasn't one of them.

The altercation with Botan didn't make things awkward for very long, thankfully. Botan and Yusuke weren't the type to let fights linger, and soon Botan was cycling between Yusuke and Kuwabara's homes in turns when she needed a place to sleep. A job well done, I told myself when I heard this good news. I might've accidentally caused their fight, but I sure as hell had fixed it, too.

My good mood regarding Botan and Yusuke carried over to the rest of my school week—though perhaps Minato's earrings had more to do with my willingness to go back to class than did bringing Botan and Yusuke back together. Whatever the case, I was happy to find that Minato's earrings worked quite well to hide my tattoos, keeping the skin of my thighs blank and smooth as long as I kept the earrings firmly in place. I wore them religiously both at home and at school, only taking them off to bathe and sleep.

But although they afforded me a feeling of security, it still felt awkward to be back at school in the first place.

It's difficult to describe the feeling of just not belonging—of feeling jumpy and stressed for no reason, and of looking over your shoulder for threats that aren't there, of feeling like people are staring when you know that no one is doing so. And it's made all the worse when you know you're being irrational, and that your gritted teeth and on-edge demeanor appear utterly awkward to everyone who isn't you (provided they even notice at all). The closest I'd ever come to that feeling was after my accident in my previous life. When I returned to school, I was greeted with whispers and stares, my shattered arm a constant source of unwanted attention. Only now there was nothing physical for anyone to stare at. Just my restlessness and tension, observable only and exclusively to me—an isolation that only made the experience more detestable.

I hated it, if I'm not being clear.

And about a week after soothing the rift between Yusuke and Botan, when a teacher pulled me aside and into the teacher's lounge, I couldn't keep from wondering if someone else had finally, finally noticed something off about me, too.

The teachers' workroom was mostly deserted, the day my homeroom instructor requested my presence there. Ibara-sensei (the replacement for the previous teacher who'd hated my guts and had been fired after trying to kill me during the Saint Beast debacle) had pulled me aside during study hour with little by way of an explanation. I'd followed him to his desk in the teachers' room without a word, standing at attention while he shuffled the papers on his desk. Sweat beaded on my neck with every passing second. Had he noticed my earrings weren't school-approved? Was he able to tell me I was acting funny? The clock on the wall ticking louder and louder as time wore on, and as the seconds flew by, I had to wonder if the jig was up—though what the jig was, specifically, I couldn't say.

Eventually Ibara-sensei decided to be merciful. He sat back in his office chair, narrow eyes dark and glittering behind his half-moon glasses. "So, Yukimura," he said, looking at me over his spectacles. "Do—"

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

He lifted a brow. "Don't be cute, Yukimura."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

"… uh-huh." Tapping a fingertip against a manila folder on his desk, he said, "As you know, our school isn't exactly traditional. We don't adhere to the norms of the rest of the Japanese school system. Your German classes and dance lessons aren't typical. Neither is the skipping of grades and other classes, as you've managed to do."

"Yes, sir." It was easy enough to slip into Keiko-Face, like donning the most comfortable, Princess Bride-approved mask in the world. "I'm lucky to have been granted the opportunity to attend a school like this."

"As you should be," he said, apparently missing my completely lack of sincerity. "We compete not only with other Japanese high schools, but international academies as well. Many of our students attend college abroad, in fact. And you're even luckier to be gifted when it comes to languages. You're picking up German without undue effort, isn't that right?"

"Right," I said. "Once you learn a second language, learning another isn't as hard." I scrambled for a metaphor but came up rather short, settling on: "It's like you… unlock something. The part of your brain that learns languages isn't foreign to you anymore."

"Well put," he said, likewise missing that I hadn't said anything particularly eloquent. "And it's instincts like that that make you an ideal candidate for our study abroad program."

"Wait." I blinked. "We have one of those?"

He looked surprised. "You didn't know?"

Mom hadn't mentioned it when she had first tried to sell me on attending Meiou, but maybe she'd just forgotten. Still, it was neat to think I had a chance like this. Studying abroad had been an option in my past life, but I'd never taken advantage of it; even now, I still regretted the missed opportunity. Being able to rectify that in this life, out of nowhere…

"Uh… no. I didn't know about this. Must've missed it. But it sounds great." Shyness struck; I looked at the floor. "You really think that I…?"

"I do," he said. "You're bright. You work hard. You're a model student, even if you don't have the most robust extracurricular interests." Little did he know he was dead wrong about that, but I held my tongue as he picked up the folder on his desk. "I've taken the liberty of drawing up the paperwork and printing out the literature for you." He extended the folder toward me. "Here. Take it."

I did on reflex, stammering, "I don't know what to say."

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to say anything yet." He spoke with brusque simplicity, which I appreciated. "There's no need to make a decision today, or even tomorrow. This wouldn't come into effect until the fall, anyway—to align with the start of other countries' school years, of course." He shrugged. "And if you don't want to take advantage of this program so soon, you can always wait a year. But I think you should consider it, if nothing else."

"Thank you, sir." I tucked the folder under my arm and bowed, low and deferential. "I'll give it due consideration."

"Good. You're dismissed." But then he eyed me over with a frown and tutted. "Oh, but you need a haircut, young lady. Even that odd, asymmetrical… thing you normally wear is better than this." He gestured vaguely at my head. "Another oddity we let you get away with…"

Resisting the urge to duck my head and run, I muttered an apology over my need for a haircut and skedaddled, taking refuge in the half empty hallway with a sigh of unfiltered relief. My hair was indeed in need of a cut. He hadn't lied about that. Even Shizuru had said something about needing to fix my style during the tournament, and that had been weeks prior. The back, normally cleanly trimmed with a razor, brushed my collar in a shaggy mess, and my bangs were way too long. Hadn't had the heart to ask Shizuru for a haircut recently, though. But so long as he wasn't picking on my earrings, I would gladly accept criticism of my hair. Talk about a relief.

It wasn't until the door to the teachers' workroom fell shut behind me that the tension drained from my shoulders, however—and when it finally did, I realized just how tense I'd truly been. My neck felt like the muscles had been stretched taut on a taffy puller. I massaged my shoulder as I leaned against the wall, head lowered as a group of students passed me on their way down the hall. They ignored me, though, but that was good. I wasn't exactly in the mood to be noticed.

Which is why I just about jumped out of my skin when a voice asked, "Keiko? What are you doing?"

It was only Amagi who'd spoken, though. She stood a few feet away, watching me through narrow black eyes that glittered above her full-lipped frown. Her hair had grown out in recent weeks, brushing her collar in a much prettier style than I currently sported. She'd finally ditched the frumpy bowl cut, thank my lucky stars, and as my racing heart began to calm, I forced myself to smile at her.

"Oh, Amagi. Hi," I said, trying very hard to play it cool. "What's up?"

She eyed the folder under my arm. "Everything all right with our teacher?"

"Yeah. He's not trying to stab me with scissors, if that's what you're worried about." But my attempt at a joke fell flat, since she didn't smile or anything. Pushing away from the wall, I took a step in her direction. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, of course." Now she finally smiled, though it only lasted for a moment; she rubbed her forearm with a hand, like maybe it itched beneath her uniform's long sleeve. "But I have a request."

"Sure. Anything."

"Would you and Minamino please meet me after school? At the greenhouse, if that's OK with him." She lowered her voice a touch, still rubbing at her forearm. "I'd like to speak with you both privately."

"… Oh. Sure. Yeah, I'm sure that's fine." Although I couldn't think of why she'd want to do such a thing, I also couldn't think of a reason why it wouldn't be all right with Kurama, either. "Want me to talk to him for you?"

At last she smiled in full, relief like sun chasing off a storm, and her hand finally dropped from her arm. "If you would," she said, but she didn't stick around to chat. She just lurched into a quick walk, heading away from me toward the stairs with a wave over her shoulder. "Sorry to run, but I have to get something. See you after school!"

"Uh. All right." I waved back, awkward as a duck in ballet shoes. "Bye!"

I was able to deliver Amagi's message at lunch later that day, whispering it to Kurama as Kaito walked ahead of us down the hall. Kurama didn't have much to say on the matter, simply raising an eyebrow as he gave me a subtle nod of confirmation before we parted ways—and then after class, I found him waiting for me in our prearranged meeting spot behind the school. True to her word, Amagi waited for the two of us in front of the school greenhouse, and when she spotted us coming, she raised a hand in greeting. She held something under her other arm, cradling the bandana-wrapped object against her side as if protecting precious cargo. A lunch, maybe? No, it was more cylindrical in shape, like a thermos or something. Was she back to making Kurama lunches, or…?

"Good. You're both here," she said as we approached. A sakura tree not far away cast its scent over the scene, sweet and clean and the complete opposite of Amagi's pinched expression. "Thanks for meeting me."

"How can we help you, Amagi-san?" Kurama smiled, amusement glimmering in his gaze. "I admit, it was a surprise to hear you ask for us this way."

"Well, there's something…" She clutched her bundle a little tighter. "There's something odd I'd like to show you."

Kurama and I exchanged a long look, but Amagi didn't notice. She'd already marched inside the greenhouse, delving into its wild confines and the warm air within, atmosphere richly scented with earth and the aroma of growing things. Like stepping underwater, the light filtered through the green-tinted windows and dyed our faces the color of new mint, sickly and serene, corpses left to decay beneath still waters. Normally I liked the greenhouse (I'd spent too much time here with Kurama not to at least appreciate his handiwork) but the hot air felt oppressive that day, cloying and rich and heavy. If Amagi noticed my unease, however, she gave no sign. She just set her cloth-wrapped bundle on a worktable beside a flower pot and a trowel before addressing us.

"Have you told Minamino about our trip to see my grandmother in Mushiyori, Keiko?" she asked, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes locked onto Kurama, watching as he strolled around the perimeter of the greenhouse, inspecting plants with his eyes and fingertips alike.

"No," I said, "I don't think I have."

Kurama looked away from his plants for a moment, offering Amagi a smile. "I'm listening."

Satisfaction lessened her frown a little. "A long time ago," she said to Kurama, "I confided in Keiko that I… well, it's hard to explain, but I see things. They're real, but—"

"You're psychic," Kurama smoothly interjected.

But Amagi didn't look shocked that he'd guessed as much. "Yes, I am," was all she said.

"I see," said Kurama, looking at her with renewed interest. "Carry on."

"I suspect you recall the time the school was attacked by our teachers, along with other random adults," Amagi said.

"Yes. But why…?"

"During that altercation, Keiko let slip that someone named 'Yusuke,' along with 'the boys,' would save the day," she said. "I met Yusuke at her New Year's Eve party, and it's no great leap to think 'the boys' constituted other… special friends of hers, considering Yusuke apparently rose from the grave." Apology warmed her expression. "I've known for some time that you're not quite human, but I didn't have a name for it until Keiko introduced me to the concept of demons. I can only assume you're one of them."

"Sharp eyes, indeed," Kurama observed.

"Thank you," said Amagi. "I also gathered your friend Kuwabara might've numbered among 'the boys,' given his abilities." Her lips pressed thin, light dancing in her eyes. "Kaito is very normal and clearly wasn't part of it, but you, Minamino… I suspected you might be among 'the boys' who helped circumvent disaster during the attack on the school."

"I knew you were perceptive, but damn," I said, letting out a low, appreciative whistle.

Amagi smiled. "Thank you."

"Forgive me if I'm missing the obvious," said Kurama, "but why are we reflecting on that attack?"

Amagi said nothing for a moment. She drew in a deep breath and let it out, long and slow and steady, before crossing her arms over her chest. One hand traced down her opposite forearm, palm rasping smooth circles as if chafing away chill.

"Because I'm worried," said Amagi, "that something like it might happen again."

Kurama and I exchanged another of our Looks: secretive and fleeting, but loaded with significance. We kept quiet as Amagi reached for the bundle she'd placed on the workbench, hand resting atop it like she drew comfort from whatever lay inside.

"Before the teachers were infected by the strange, supernatural insects that turned them rabid," Amagi said in low, smooth tones, "Keiko warned me to be on the lookout for insects no one else could see; their presence heralded the attack, warning her ahead of time that it was about to take place. I've been looking out for insects like them ever since. But the next instance of insect invasion didn't happen here, and I wasn't the first to spot it."

"Your grandmother," Kurama quickly surmised. "You mentioned her before. I assume your powers are hereditary?"

"Yes." Amagi shut her eyes, but only for a moment. "She spotted insects no one else could see in our hometown, Mushiyori City. Only I believed her, but even I didn't see them for the longest while. Until…"

She unwrapped the bundle, then, removing from the bandana a single mason jar with a screw-on lid. It wasn't what I'd been expecting, that's for sure—especially because the jar was empty, at least at first glance. I walked over and bent down to peer at it, Keiko's pretty face reflecting like an ectoplasmic apparition in the glass. Kurama, meanwhile, didn't come near. He eyed the container from afar, eyes narrowed with critical intent from across the greenhouse.

"So, uh." I knew Kurama well enough to realize what the look on his face must mean. "I get the feeling I'm the only one who think this is an empty jar."

"Yes, Kei. You're correct," Kurama said, eyes locked on the jar. "A Makai insect. How did you catch it?"

While I processed the fact that Amagi had managed to catch a demonic bug in a literal mason jar, of all things, Amagi shrugged out of her uniform jacket and unbuttoned the sleeve of her crisp white shirt. In slow increments she rolled it up and out of the way—and I didn't need psychic powers or special demon eyes to see what she was trying to show us. Halfway down her forearm glared an enormous purple bruise, colors livid and atrocious against her comparatively paler skin. I let out a cry and grabbed her wrist before I could help it, staring at the wound in horror I probably should've muted for her sake. But she didn't get upset or anything. She just stood there while I looked at the tiny red scab in the center of the bruise, observing the bruise's upraised, welt-like edges through wide eyes.

"Amagi, what happened?" I demanded.

In a small voice she admitted, "I let it bite me."

"Amagi!?"

"Don't start." Her no-nonsense glare brooked no argument. "You, of all people, can't lecture me about taking risks."

Kurama laughed—a small laugh, very nearly a giggle, but a laugh nonetheless. He pretended not to notice when I glared at him, scanning the greenhouse's many plants with a deceptively innocent expression.

"Anyway." She extricated her arm from my grip, rolling down her shirtsleeve and hiding the bruise from sight. "My grandmother says they congregate at night, and that they leave by morning. 'Scouts,' I think Keiko called them when I took her to hear my grandmother's observations. She said it under her breath, but I'm sure that's what I heard."

Kurama hummed. "Sharp ears, too."

Pride sparked a blush, the flush in her cheeks an odd shade of jade in the dim greenhouse. Looking at the jar again, Amagi said, "At the time, Keiko just told me to keep an eye out. Keep her in the loop. That sort of thing. But my grandmother is growing more and more distressed every day, so I knew it was time to do more than wait and watch." She hesitated, but not for long. "I wasn't sure who else to bring this to but the two of you. Judging from that video Keiko showed me about the ice demon, Yukina, I know you have the ear of Spirit World, so…"

Here Kurama gave me another Look. "You showed her that video?"

I felt oddly defensive about that, but I didn't let myself flinch. "Well, I couldn't watch it, and she was already in the know about weird shit, so… I borrowed her eyes, I guess?"

"I didn't mind," Amagi piped up. "In fact, I asked to be let in on whatever she was hiding."

"And Kei complied." He sounded tired, and his lips thinned into a grim line. "In any case, we appreciate the warning. Kei is in touch with one of the emissaries of Spirit World; she'll deliver your findings to the appropriate parties. But in the meantime, thank you for your diligence." Kurama's expression smoothed, an amused and courteous smile gracing his lips. "I only ask that you not let another insect bite you, on purpose or otherwise. Their venom can be quite deadly."

Amagi shivered; she touched her arm, fingers tracing it through her sleeve. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you both for your help." She sighed a little, the tension in her eyes easing. "Even knowing that you know about it is… well, thank you again. I feel a little better now."

"Of course," I said. "We're happy to help, Amagi."

Dark eyes searched my face. "I hope you mean that. My grandmother has been talking about a darkness—a growing darkness, swirling and deep. She says it's cold, and malevolent, and growing deeper every day." Amagi spoke in a hushed whisper, like waves lapping at some distant shore in the underwater crypt of the suffocating greenhouse. "I don't know what it means, but even I can feel a chill in the air when I visit her. I'm worried she'll…"

She stopped talking. A flush rose in her neck, obvious against her pale skin. I stepped toward her without thinking and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," I said, soothing and soft. "We won't let anything bad happen. Promise."

Amagi smiled, even though her expression shook. "Thanks, Keiko," she murmured—and in her words lay nothing less than complete and total sincerity.

Amagi didn't linger in the greenhouse. She and I talked a little more about following up with Spirit World and news about her grandmother's health, but nothing important was said. Amagi looked calmer for the conversation, though, and that was importance enough in my book. Kurama examined the mason jar in silence as we chatted, and soon Amagi thanked us again, bowed low, and left. I watched her through the glass-paneled door as she walked toward the school. I watched the way she wrapped her arms around herself despite the warm spring day, gripping her injured arm as she vanished back inside the school. Letting herself get bitten by a supernatural insect? The girl had moxie, that was for sure… even if I hated the thought of her getting hurt. Thinking about the collateral damage of the Yu Yu Hakusho plot hadn't occurred to me too often before coming to this world, but now that I was in it, it was impossible to ignore. Especially when it concerned people I'd come to care about.

"Am I correct in thinking this has something to do with the next threat we'll face on behalf of Spirit World?"

Kurama watched my reflection in the greenhouse's wall, eyes cool and assessing as mine met his in the jade glass. In increments I turned to face him, careful to keep my face as neutral as room temperature milk.

"Interesting theory," was all I said. "Elaborate?"

He obliged. "You did not appear surprised by the thought of the return of the Makai insects. I'm inclined to believe you saw this coming."

"You know me." I mimed zipping my mouth. "My lips are sealed."

"As always." A dry statement, one I wasn't sure I understood. "Can I further deduce that your New Year's kidnapper has something do to with their return?"

In response to his query, I gave him more Neutral Keiko-Face™—a difficult feat considering both Yusuke and Botan had also come to this conclusion, which meant a good portion of the main canon cast already suspected exactly what our next plot arc would entail. But it wouldn't do to confirm their suspicions so soon. Not yet, anyway.

"Another interesting theory," was all I allowed myself to say. "What makes you think that?"

"When you vanished that night, your aura disappeared so completely, not even Hiei could detect it," Kurama said. "When it next surfaced, he claimed he sensed you in the vicinity of Mushiyori City. Since these insects have been spotted in that city, and you kidnapper also favors that terrain, Occam's razor would suggest the two occurrences are connected." He smiled, showing a frankly alarming amount of teeth. Kurama usually wore a pleasant smile, but this one… there was menace to it, and as I suppressed a shiver, he took one deliberate step toward me. "Am I wrong?"

I looked away, annoyed. "I find your intelligence… inconvenient."

"So I'm right." His mouth quirked, menace cracking like ice underfoot. "I thought as much."

"Don't look so smug." While he pretended to be something besides a smug bastard, I rolled my eyes. "Anyway. What do we do with that thing?" I walked over to the worktable and stood beside Kurama, giving the jar's lid a tap. "Can't leave the jar around; it looks empty to most people. A canning accident waiting to happen."

"Try not to worry." Kurama reached for the jar, fingers brushing my wrist. "I will dispose of the creature myself."

"That's a relief." Backing away (because when had he gotten so close?) I covered my awkwardness with a frilly bow—which probably made things worse, but I tried not to think about it. "Well. I'll leave you to it, I guess. Something tells me I won't want to see this."

"Most likely, no." His hands disappeared into his pockets. "But before you go, Kei, there's something I'd like to discuss."

I—having already made it to the door in my hasty retreat—froze with my hand on the knob. "Oh?" I said, shooting a nervous glance over my shoulder. "What about?"

His chin lifted. "My mother."

I swallowed, hand falling to my side. "This again," I muttered. "Of course."

"She's asked if I'd come to dinner with her and a friend of hers." He spoke as if he hadn't heard me, though I suspected from the determined glint in his eyes that he had heard me quite clearly indeed. "She hasn't named the aforementioned friend yet, but I can only assume it's Kuwabara senior." Kurama stood at his most charming, then, all smiles and warm eyes and inviting, open posture. "She told me to bring a friend, too, to even out our numbers. She further hinted she expects that friend to be you."

"Wait." I rounded on him, hands on hips and skeptical. "Your mom is inviting me to dinner?"

"Yes," Kurama said.

I squinted at him.

Kurama smiled.

I squinted some more.

Kurama kept smiling.

"… why do I feel like I'm missing something?" I said. "Or like this might be a trap?"

"Why, Kei," he said, pretending to be hurt. "Don't be silly. My mother is the one extending the invitation, not me."

"And yet, I'm still suspicious."

He only laughed. "I predict she'll be introducing Kuwabara to me as her romantic partner, and she wants a friend there to provide moral support should I react badly." His humor faded a little. "Despite my best efforts, I believe she senses that I'm not keen on his recent visits to our home."

I snorted. "You're not the only cunning fox in the family."

"Indeed." Kurama couldn't keep a proud spark out of his green eyes, flame smoldering at the heart of a forest. "Will you accept her invitation, Kei?"

I started to say yes—to indulge in that easy affability that Keiko specialized in, to smooth hurt feelings and people-please and not make waves—but I stopped. I stared at him in silence, teeth worrying my lips, hands balled at my sides like a fighter's eager fists. There was something in his pleasant demeanor I didn't quite understand. An edge, one I thought at first had to be dogged determination… but it felt sharper, almost. More pointed, but at the same time, restrained.

Like he wasn't pushing yet. And if I pushed back…

And Kurama sensed that he hadn't sold me on his plans yet, because he knew me too well not to. "You suspect I have a plan to sour the evening, I presume," he said, not sounding at all accusatory. More knowing than anything. Like he'd expected this, and it didn't bother him at all. And for every reason, and no reason at all, I wanted to call him out on that.

"Can you blame me?" was all I said, though.

"No," he replied—just a hair too quickly to feel natural. "But recall, again, that it is my mother who has requested this double date, not me." He was particularly gorgeous when he smirked, the sly expression fitting him like an impeccably tailored suit. "And while I respect your no-dating rule, who are we to deny granting my mother this small favor?"

"Don't let the fangirls hear you say that," I muttered.

He frowned. "Say what?"

"You know what."

"What?" He paused—and then it clicked, or at least he pretended it did. Feigning confusion, he looked me dead in the eye and asked in a strong, clear voice, "A double date?"

"Shhh!" I made a show of putting a finger to my lips and looking around in a panic—humor to hide just how goddamn awkward I felt, like a spotlight had flicked on and I'd been caught at center stage. "Shhh, Kurama! They might be lurking!"

"And if they are?" he countered with spirited sincerity. "What then, Kei?"

"Then you'll give them the wrong idea!"

"And would that truly be so terrible?" he asked—silky, playful, a little wistful, a touch sad and a dozen other emotions I couldn't quite put my finger on. "You wound me."

Neither of us spoke. Kurama regarded me frankly, but still with that odd little smile playing across his lips (his really, really gorgeous lips, goddammit). My heart picked up the pace in response, a tattoo of frantic confusion—and other emotions I didn't want to name—beating like dragonfly wings against my ribs. What the hell did he even want me to say? And what would happen if I actually came out and said it?

Part of me wanted to know.

But I settled on rolling my eyes and asking: "Are your eyes green today, or gold?"

"Are your eyes brown or blue?" he countered.

"Grey, not blue."

"No." Kurama shook his head. "They're very blue."

Again, silence fell. I understood this silence even less than the last. And I wanted to break it even sooner—but I hesitated. I leaned against the greenhouse's door, shoulder blades pressing against warm glass, kicking at the leaf-strewn concrete floor with one wary heel.

"Kurama, you—you've been different lately." The words came forth like a confession, though when recognition lit his eyes, I knew I was merely stating what he already knew. "Ever since we got back from the tournament, you've been…"

His teeth showed again when he smiled. "More charming?"

"I was going to say more forward." I couldn't look at him. "More like your old self, if we want to get technical."

"Perhaps I am feeling more in touch with my roots after recent events," Kurama said. Feet whispered over pavement as he stepped toward me. "Is it such a bad thing?"

I huffed. "Your curiosity certainly makes my life more complicated."

"What would be complicated about it?" Kurama countered.

A beat.

"About us?" he said.

My head jerked up. Kurama regarded me coolly, just an arm's-length away. Just out of reach, like a ghost that walked a different plain, visible but intangible and impossible to touch. His face bore no signs of hostility. Only open interest, a little clinical, a little detached. A scientist taking measurements, hoping to slot facts neatly into place.

Or that's what it looked like at first glance, at least.

That fire had returned to his eyes, an ember in the dark of a pressing forest, green lit from within like a jewel.

"I'm not being rhetorical, Kei," Kurama asked when the silence stretched too thin. He sounded gentler this time, cajoling and sweet, my name like honey on his tongue. "Kei, I'd like to know."

He wanted to know, huh. So did I. But it wasn't that easy, putting words to what lay between us—because if he'd asked me this question only two weeks earlier, my answer would've been far different. But he wasn't asking me two weeks earlier. He was asking me here, now, after everything I'd learned and everything Hiruko had told me as the stadium collapsed.

You didn't think any of this was Real, did you? That's what he'd whispered in my ear as rocks and ruin rained onto our heads.

You didn't think any of this—that Kurama, and what he felt for me—was Real—?

Those words played through my head over and over again as Kurama and I stared at one another. When he took the barest step toward me, determination rising like a wall across his face, I held up a hand and spoke.

"You know we have a—a thing." Not eloquent. Not at all. And my voice shook, cracked on the final syllable. I gestured between Kurama and myself and said, "We have a thing. Whatever this is."

"Our truly adorable will-they, won't-they back-and-forth?" His smile warmed his face, wall coming down brick by brick. "Your words, Kei. I remember them well."

I had to fight back a smile at the memory—because the smile made my throat ache, my eyes prick. I held the feeling back, walling it off, stealing the bricks from Kurama's psyche and installing them in my own, a dam against the emotion rising like a riptide in my chest… but they threatened to crumble almost at once, propping up my willpower only for a moment.

"Don't remind me," I breathed, shaking my head. "It's just…"

"It's just what?"

And the bricks tumbled. "I can't talk about it," I said, looking at the concrete floor. "I'm sorry."

"But—"

"I can't, Kurama."

He knew me too well, though. He knew me too well not to see the desperate resignation on my face, try though I might to hide it. Kurama reached for my arm, stepping closer, a wash of his scent falling across my face. Normally I'd enjoy that proximity, but now—

How much of that scent was Real? How much of his warmth, his words, the emotions flashing behind his eyes?

I wanted to believe that it all was.

But I couldn't.

As well as Kurama could read me, however, he couldn't read my mind. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked as his hand closed over my arm. "Kei, what's wrong?"

"I can't tell you." I didn't look at him; I couldn't. "I want to, and I wish I could, but…" My voice cracked and crumbled, losing the valiant fight against the oceanic pressure of my tears. "Kurama, I'm—I'm sorry."

And then the dam broke, and I was crying.

I cried a lot in front of Kurama. He had every right to turn away from me in disgust, tell me to suck it up and muscle through. Surely crying disgusted him. Surely my ugly, hiccupping tears were a sign of weakness, of inferiority, of a feeble and unimpressive mind. I was a crybaby, an emotional wreck, an annoying font of deeply felt and inconvenient sentiment—but Kurama didn't turn away from me, nor did he rebuke my sniveling lament. He just murmured my name and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest in a tight embrace, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other rubbing soothing circles across my back. And I held him in return, gripping the fabric of his jacket as I clung to him, a drowning woman on a life raft that would buoy me to shore. He murmured assurances (vague but intentioned) into my hair until my crying eased, but when I tried to draw away, he held on tight. His hands traveled to my cheeks, fingers tracing away the tracks of my tears until my skin felt clean again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be." Kurama searched my face, cupping it with both hands, breath misting across my skin. "But Kei… are you truly that afraid of what you know is coming?"

I couldn't reply. He'd misunderstood the reason for my tears—and I let him do it. I stood there in desperate silence until Kurama breathed a sigh, mistaking my quiet for confession. He leaned forward until his lips pressed against my forehead, a warm and gentle kiss that left me shuddering and breathless, air ripped from my lungs by the electric force of Kurama's affection, freely given and undeserved.

"Kei… you are the bravest person I've ever known." He pulled away, but only to lean his forehead against mine and gaze unflinchingly into my eyes, as if pouring his own willpower through them and into me. "But if this proves too much to bear alone, I'll shoulder that burden with you."

I closed my eyes. Let him hold me a little longer. Let him believe what he wanted to believe, rather than tell him the truth.

It was ironic, what Kurama had assumed about my fears.

It wasn't the things I knew were coming that rendered me so speechless.

It was what I didn't know was coming that truly scare me—that and the depth of my feelings for this person, who might or might not have held any true feelings for me in return.


I sat on an outcropping of rock over an ocean of flowers, a Technicolor world of saturated hues and sparkling lights that glittered like laughter made visible. The flower ocean—full of roses and bright bluebonnets—ripped and rose and undulated under the star-scattered sky, waves of petals like the sea after a storm. When the waves crashed upon the rocks below, flower petal scattered skyward, drifting through the air like snowfall. Their perfume rose and fell on the endless tide, wafting across my face like the hands of a gentle lover. In the distance and below the stars, the sun set, streaking the sky with pink and orange, gold and lilac, faint green and brilliant blue.

As the stars wheeled and the flowers churned, I raised a hand and snapped.

The stars swam closer at my call, details falling sharply into view against the sunset-streaked sky. Planets and suns whirled in their endless cosmic dance, the rings of Saturn spinning, the craters of the moon close enough to touch. Nebulas and galaxies danced behind them, rainbow colors melding and collapsing as stars and planets were birthed and then died, the endless cycle of matter returning to matter only to be repurposed elsewhere—the Law of Conservation of Mass, perfectly illustrated.

Nowhere in the universe could you behold such a sight.

But this was not reality. This was my dream, and it fell under my control.

Well. Almost all of it.

"You really are stubborn, Not-Quite-Keiko."

Hiruko stood behind me on the cliff overlooking the ocean of flowers. He had kept his form from the Dark Tournament, tall and handsome with a braid of sakura hair falling over his shoulder and down his chest. But while his blue eyes sparkled and his smile stayed constant on his lips, he didn't look exactly as I remembered. His sleeves were tattered at the edges, threadbare and worn. His braid had come loose at the end, strands escaping from their tight confines. Bags as blue as bruises stained the skin below his bloodshot eyes, and his shoulders slumped beneath the fabric of his crimson robe.

Tired. He looked tired. Exhausted, even.

That didn't mean I'd go easy on him.

"Hiruko." I looked at the sea of blossoms, not deigning to meet his gaze. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Heh." Sandals clacked against the earth as he came to stand beside me. "Couldn't resist."

"Clearly. So have we forgotten the fact that I can kick you out of my head whenever I want, or…?"

"I don't intend to stay within your lucid dreams for long, lucky child," he scolded. "I know better than that."

But I just scoffed. "What, you wanna call me stubborn and then split? Do a little drive-by derision?"

"That's not why…" Hiruko shook his head, exasperated. "Why must you make things difficult?"

"It's just who I am, I think."

He didn't argue, that asshole. He just stared at the scenery before us, admiring the planets and stars and flowers with an appreciative hum. When he did not speak, I turned away, admiring my handiwork, too.

But the roses and the bluebonnets, all mingled together and beautiful, only made me sad.

"And you're thinking about him, aren't you," said Hiruko.

It wasn't a question, and I knew exactly to whom he referred. No doubt he'd seen the scene in the greenhouse somehow. I'd come home from school and gone straight to bed after school let out that day, claiming I wasn't feeling well—and when I began to dream, the roses appeared in full bloom.

At the time, I hadn't questioned their presence.

Now, though, as Hiruko shot me a knowing smile, I had to wonder just how in control of this dream I truly was.

"So?" I pulled my knees to my chest. "So what if I am?"

He tutted. "Stubborn. Wouldn't it be easier to just give in to what you feel? What he feels?"

Despite his ever-present smile, Hiruko looked frustrated. Like he was taking this personally, somehow, which didn't make sense… unless he was pulling Kurama's strings. Unless he could take credit for what had transpired between Kurama and me. Unless my resistance was a personal slight that flew in the face of his efforts and achievements.

It was a possibility too horrible to ignore.

So I said, "I can't."

"But why?" asked Hiruko.

"Because—because a part of me believes you." I hated admitting it—but at the same time, a weight lifted off my chest the second the words left my mouth. I told him, "A small part of me believes that this place isn't, that Kurama isn't..."

I faltered.

"Real?" Hiruko supplied, tone as gentle as the flowers rippling beneath our clifftop perch. "I'm honestly surprised that even part of you believes me. What happened to that stubborn streak of yours? I thought for sure that you'd deny what I'd said. So what makes you believe that—?"

"Why in the world would someone like him ever be interested in someone like me?"

Flower-filled waves beat upon the rocks. A scarlet petal drifted onto Hiruko's shoulder, a drop of blood shed by an unseen giant. I tore my face away from his shocked expression, mouth burning from the force of the words I'd shouted so desperately into the landscape of my dreams. But I could still feel his eyes on me, twin pools of bright blue as arresting at the sight of planets spinning overhead.

"We make no sense," I rasped at the world I had created. "I'm so—so ordinary. And he's so not." A wry laugh, one devoid of humor. "If you're the one making him act like that towards me, Hiruko... If you're the one puppeteering him… you made a mistake, choosing Kurama." Another laugh, even drier than the first. "He's too…"

Words failed me, because I didn't have words good enough to suit Kurama.

Instead, I simply stated, "When he looks at me like that, all I feel is unworthy."

Hiruko processed that for a time. We watched the waves and the stars in silence. The perpetually setting sun cast golden light across our faces. Eventually Hiruko sat down beside me, sandaled feet dangling beside my own above the steep drop to the sea.

"Whether or not he's Real…" Hiruko said. "Why should that matter?" Blue eyes scoured my face, searching for… I didn't know what. "Take comfort where it's offered, and worry about the details later."

I shook my head. "Big talk, coming from you."

"Oh?"

"You made this place," I said. "Why isn't it good enough for you?"

Hiruko was the one to look away, this time.

"You say you want somewhere to belong," I pushed. Throwing his own words back into his face brought a smile to my lips, vengeful and untamed. "Wouldn't it be easier to just find somewhere to belong here? Take acceptance where it's offered, and worry about the details later."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he whispered.

"It's a theory I've been toying with," I continued. "You say you made this place. You say this place isn't Real—that it's only as Real as these dreams of mine." I waved at the whirling stars, struck out at the rippling sea. "You say you have to impress the Makers, somehow, to get whatever it is you want. And if what you want is a Real world where you belong… maybe only the Makers can give that to you."

Hiruko did not speak. He did not move. He was a statue frozen in space and time, eyes wide and unblinking, reflecting the light of the stars and the movements of my dream's Unreal planets.

"A Real world, Real belonging," I continued. "This hollow facsimile of a world isn't Real enough to make you feel whole, so you need a different one—one only the Makers can give you."

I thought he'd deny my theory. I thought he'd tell me I was wrong, as he always did. That maybe he'd prevaricate and avoid addressing what I'd said entirely.

Instead, Hiruko surprised me.

The only thing he said was, "Am I that transparent?"

It was an admission that should have filled me with triumph, but it did not. Instead, I felt nothing. I felt hollow, a shell of myself, form ringing with the muted peal of… emptiness.

Slowly, I turned back to the sea and stars.

"No," I said. "I just know how you feel. That's all."

We sat in silence for a long time, watching the flowers sway. Then, without a word, Hiruko stood and walked away, wooden sandals clacking against my dream's stony ground.

I did not turn to look at him when I said, "Hiruko?"

"Yes?" he replied.

"Your plans with the Makers. If they endanger the people I love, I'll have to intervene. You know that, don't you?"

"I know," he said.

"Real or not, I will protect the ones I love with everything I have."

"I know that, too, lucky child."

I stood. I turned. Hiruko looked at me with pity and with sorrow, but he stood tall and did not yield beneath my stare. I'm sure I looked about the same—determined to do what I knew was right, yet reluctant to do it and harm this other person whom I understood so well. Because we were a pair, Hiruko and I. Real people in Unreal worlds, desperate for connection, but not the kind that had been offered to us.

At least that's what I hoped he felt, anyway.

We stood there, looking at each other, for a long time. I can't say for sure how much time passed in the landscape of my dreams, but soon Hiruko shut his tired eyes. He sighed and ran a hand over his hair, cheeks hollow and skin wan. It struck me again, how tired he looked. How long did such a tired person have to enact their plans before they collapsed from sheer exhaustion? I couldn't say, but I knew in my heart that it had to be soon.

Soon, our reckoning would come.

"So where does that leave us?" I asked.

"Right where we started, I should think." Hiruko turned away in a flutter of crimson robe. "Trapped in a dream, a design of our own making, with no way to go but forward."

I didn't say anything. I watched in silence until he disappear into my dreamscape, and then I returned to my spot on the cliff, where I watched the setting sun go dark.


NOTES

Really sorry this is a few days late. Got sick over the weekend and just couldn't work. I don't think I have COVID, but I'm getting tested this coming Monday to be sure. Fingers crossed…

1,000,000 words. How did this even happen? Thanks for riding this ride, long as it is.

In an indirect way, Keirama shippers have gotten confirmation of something they've been vying for for a while now. But then Keiko admitted to what's holding her back (Kurama might not even be Real, and she also feels like she doesn't deserve him), and that's a hurdle not easily surmounted.

In another, no less indirect way, Hiruko admitted a fundamental truth regarding his motivations. Perhaps he's as tired of hiding them as NQK is at guessing what they may be.

Had a rough weekend, but these people made it magical with their support. Thank you endlessly for it and sorry I'm not gushier, I'm still not feeling great but again, YOU ARE MAGIC and I love you and thank you forever: ewokling, cestlavie, gazi, rezgurnk, rueedge, MiYuki Kurama, balancewarlord, Sorlian, xenocanaan, REEbook123, tammywammy9, Yumi22, noble phantasm, Bby, LadyEllesmere, Call Brig On Over, Mia, Ouca, IronDBZ, setokayba2n, C S Stars, Kaiya Azure, vodka-and-tea, SanguineSky, EdenMae, TasukiLover05, SterlingBeem PsychoMutt, Littlebutt, OceanSyren, NightlyKill, MyWorldHeartBeating, Vienna22, Lady Skynet, TheEccentric1, DarkMoonDiamond, MissIdeophobia, Kuesuno, DeathAngel457, Energy-the-hedgehog, MetroNeko, DG aka DemonGurl, empressofthedead, MoonKishi, Tahere-Ravenwood, Pelawen Night, firestar91, buzzk97, Dark Rosette, overfreshh, cezarina, MysticWolf71891, Kina Namine, kiralol101, Name Name, A Wraith, Biku-sensei-sez-meow, Thornsilverfox, PretiBurdi