Warnings: None
Lucky Child
Chapter 119:
"Back to Normal"
Under cover of night, I slipped into the backdoor of my home.
Nothing moved in the quiet entryway. To my left stood the door to the kitchen; to the right, the pantry. No one stirred beyond either arch, and at the foot of the stairs ahead, the coat hook and shoe mat sat still and silent. Mud flaked from my father's rain boots onto the small rug, mahogany earth visible against pale rubber in the light that lanced indoors from the alleyway.
It all faded into darkness when the door shut. I stood with my hand against the wall, cushioning the fall of the backdoor with the bottom of my rubber-soled shoe. I neither moved nor spoke, though my burning, tired eyes creaked shut as I concentrated. In silence I listened, ears straining in the quiet, for sounds of movement upstairs. I heard nothing, though. Just the clock ticking, invisible, on the wall near the coat hook, and the faint hum of the walk-in freezer hidden behind the pantry door. My breath rattled loudest of all, try though I might to stifle it. Every inhale felt like sandpaper on wood, every exhale the sigh of a storm… but when I heard nothing from upstairs, my shoulders sagged. A relieved sigh wormed between my teeth. I took a step forward.
A board creaked beneath my heel.
The effect was instantaneous. A door upstairs tapped against a frame; feet pattered down the steps. Before my parents appeared, I rubbed at my stinging eyes and straightened my spine, trying to clear the sleep from my heavy lids. So much for slipping in unnoticed…
My mother wore a bathrobe almost as thick as the look of concern on her pinched features when she materialized from the darkness at the foot of the stairs. Dad joined her a moment later. As one they swooped forward with movements of synchronized concern.
"Keiko, there you are!" Mom was the first to speak. "We've been worried sick!"
"Sorry, Mom." I snapped into character and pasted on my best Keiko Smile. "Trains ran late."
"They seem to run late a lot these days," Dad grumbled as he took my backpack from me. Though I wanted to keep the bag, I knew better than to protest, instead letting him look me over without complaint. "Almost every time you go to that meetup, they run late bringing you home."
Dad set the bag on the hook near the shoes and umbrella stand. I made a mental note of that, careful and concise.
"Oh, honey, just look at you." Mom put her hand to my cheek, startling me from my reverie. "You're half dead on your feet! Are you sure these wellness retreats are really such a good idea?"
"It's been weeks, and you've looked more and more exhausted each time you come back!" said Dad. "It's—"
"It's fine." The words came out sharper than intended; to ameliorate, I softened my tone like butter. "I'm fine, I promise. Don't be silly."
Mom remained unconvinced. "But honey—"
"The retreats are good for me, I promise." Not quite a lie, but not quite the whole truth either, not that I could explain either reality. "I'm getting my stamina back, and it's helping me catch up on school." A sunny smile felt wrong on my mouth, but I wore it anyway. "Trust me. I wouldn't be going if I didn't think the retreats weren't beneficial."
Dad shrugged. "Sure, but…"
"But you just look so tired," Mom said.
"And that's why I want to go to bed." A giggle I didn't mean tried to lift the mood, though my parents' faces told me it hadn't worked. I beat a retreat and headed for the stairs. "See you in the morning?"
Mom hesitated, but eventually she said, "All right."
"Be up on time for breakfast, OK?" Dad called after me.
"OK." I was halfway up the stairs already. "Night Mom. Night Dad!"
I put on a good show for them, of course. The spring in my step and the smile on my face didn't quaver until my bedroom door fell shut behind me. As soon as it did, my knees gave out, sending me sliding down the wooden panel until I sat on the carpet in the dark. Sleep dragged at my eyes while my parents muttered in the dark of the hallway, words faint but close, impossible to discern, just as impossible to ignore.
I got the sense they were listening for me just as much as I was listening for them, but in this war of attrition, I proved victorious. Their bedroom door soon opened and closed, parents safely ensconced out of sight. I didn't enter the hallway to retrieve my backpack, though. No doubt Mom and Dad were keeping an ear out for any shenanigans on my part. I'd have to wait them out, bide my time and strike once they fell asleep. Tired though I felt, it was imperative I get my backpack before falling asleep. I had no choice. But Mom and Dad were already on edge, and arousing any more suspicion would invite… would invite more questions, and…
A yawn stretched my jaw until it popped. Lids stumbled like a runner losing balance, heels tripping as sleep nipped. Tightness unspooled from tense limbs in undulating arcs.
"I'll just rest for a minute," I murmured as my eyes fell shut. "Gotta meditate before bed. Make my tea. Just resting my eyes…"
Against my best intentions, I fell asleep on my bedroom floor—and then, with a flutter of darkness, I began to dream.
I recognized the nightclub, though I couldn't quite name from where. Dancers moved atop a floor of frosted plastic tiles lit from below by neon lights, a stage with a neon-clad DJ pumping mid-2000s EDM into the humid night. I stood in the middle of the dancing throng, staring up at the lights hanging from the ceiling as they cast wide arcs over the club, not sure how I got there but not questioning my presence, either. The music was familiar, after all. So was the club. A night of dancing, free of stress and turmoil, sounded lovely after the weeks I'd just been through. Those hellish weeks that even now set my teeth on edge. Genkai had been running me ragged, mental fingers worn to the bone, and—
A hand touched my arm. Naomi stood there—wait. Naomi. My college girlfriend? Where had she come from? Oblivious to my questions, Naomi smiled and took my hand, pulling me deeper into the crowd to dance. She looked beautiful, but then again, she always did. Feed-in braids of metallic blue and pink coiled atop her head in a voluminous bun, reflecting lights in a brilliant dazzle of color that left me in a blinking daze. She didn't let me fall behind, though. Her bright smile flashed as we settled into the heart of the crowd, arms around each other, moving with the other dancers to the beat of the bass. I passed a hand over her smooth cheek; she smiled and nudged her mouth against my palm in a gentle kiss.
The bracelet on my wrist gleamed, bright red braided cord and white stone disc standing out like blood and bone against her deep umber skin, alarmingly visceral against the warm life of her gorgeous face. Something about the sight of her face next to that bracelet didn't sit right. They didn't belong together. They weren't meant to be seen at once, occupying such different points in time in space that their pairing seemed impossible—and there it was, a flash of recognition that struck like a bolt from the blue. Naomi was my college girlfriend, but I wasn't in college. I was in high school, and that bracelet had been a gift from the Beautiful Suzuka.
I wasn't in college and dating Naomi, because I was Yukimura Keiko from Yu Yu Hakusho—and this could only be a dream.
Right. Obviously this was a dream. Now I remembered falling asleep on my floor as I waited for my parents to go to bed so I could go downstairs and sneak my backpack into my room. And that bracelet, that gift from Suzuka? It was lost to me in waking life. I only wore it in dreams anymore. It was my signal, a symbol, a trigger, my covert sign to myself that I was no longer awake. It was—
A scream rang out. Naomi's body stiffened against mine. The dancers quaked and bolted, scattering as more screaming rent the air. The lights stopped flashing and the music went out with the scratch of a record that sounded like an earthquake. The crowd parted like a rising curtain and then, through the press of bodies, a specter loomed like an omen of death. Made all of black ichor that dripped to the floor from its hulking form, it was vaguely humanoid but without features, long-fingered hands stretching toward me as it stuttered and slid along the floor in my direction.
"Oh, no. Not you." I shoved Naomi behind me, because even in dreams I didn't want to see her get hurt. "Why can't you just leave me alone, huh?"
The dream monster—my familiar nemesis—opened its mouth and roared, spattering the floor and dream-people with flecks of black goop. I rolled my eyes. Dramatic asshole. But letting it get ahold of me was inadvisable, so I grabbed Naomi's hand and ran, bolting for the nearest door in my dreamscape to find an exit back to the waking world.
It was far too late to start lucid-dreaming and chase the creature off. I'd faced it too many times to cling to that naïve hope. If the monster appeared before I went lucid, it would always stabilize the dream too much for me to manipulate my surroundings. Whoever arrived first had the most control; it had proven that time and again. But I wasn't particularly scared. I knew the exit had to be close, and all I had to do to win was escape without getting caught—
No dice. I'd barely turned my back when it lunged, an enormous paw forming from its sludge-riddled body to bat aside the dream-people and knock me to the floor. A very real burst of pain reverberated up my wrists as I landed facedown, just barely getting my hands out to break the fall. Naomi disappeared with a cry; I called out for her, but the monster had already pounced, blocking my view of the club with its enormous bulk.
A light flashed. The shadow staggered backward with a yowl. Between us appeared a tall, lithe figure with dark hair falling softly around long features. Her eyes were the softest of all as she smiled and offered me a hand.
"Naru!" I said, relief flooding my hollow chest. "Hey!"
"Hello, Keiko," said Naru—the kindest, gentlest of all Sensui Shinobu's seven personalities. Her fingers gave mine a squeeze. "It's nice to see you."
"Heh. Thank god you're here."
She looked me over, dark eyes narrow with concern. Naru appeared more feminine in dreams than she did in real life, with a softer jaw and fuller lips and bigger eyes, body curved instead of svelte and angular… but she always looked that way in my dreams, so I wasn't surprised. This was my dream, and she was a guest within it, but she had a strong enough will to make her appearance match her identity with laser-guided precision. Her full lips curled as we stood side by side, facing the writhing ichor-monster as it rallied, gathering pools of splattered grime back into itself before it rose tall toward the club's darkened ceiling.
"I confess you look even more unwell than the last time we dreamed together," Naru said, eyes locked on the monster. "Do you really think you're up to this? I'm fine on my own if you need to flee."
"Nah. I'm not leaving you alone." I rolled my head atop my neck. "It's my problem, after all."
Naru smiled. "A problem to which I will readily lend my aid."
"You're a good friend, Naru," I said, meaning every word. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
She chuckled, smile genuine and pleased, and the monster didn't like that one bit. The monster didn't like Naru much at all; it always attacked her more than me, as if resenting the interference of another in the landscape of my dreams, its chosen hunting ground. I stepped between it and her as tentacles boiled from its back to wave in the dreamy air. As one, Naru and I squared up to face the beast, side by side and ready to rumble as allies.
Naru, in the past month since gaining my Territory, had become a treasured friend.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The morning after I returned home from the hospital, Territory inked fresh upon my soul weeks and weeks before that dream with Naru, my parents installed me at the breakfast table in front of an enormous spread of food. Western favorites like pancakes and waffles, traditional Japanese foods like miso soup and rice—Dad has really outdone himself. I shot him a grateful look as I took a bite of pancake. He must have woken up early to cook everything, and he watched like a hawk as I made sure to sample every dish.
"You sure you don't want to take a few more days off, Keiko?" Mom, like Dad, hovered while I ate, anxiety etched into her face like the lines of an antique woodcut. "Go back to school next week instead?"
I lowered my fork, bite untasted. "Mom…"
"Don't look at me like that!" she said.
"You've been through a lot," said Dad. "You deserve some time off!"
"But I've had more than a week off."
"And you could take another if you wanted. Your mother and I wouldn't mind." He put an arm around her. "Right, honey?"
"That's right!" said Mom. "If you want more time at home, we will tell your school and that will be the end of the discussion." Her dark eyes glittered under her chef's cap. "You know I have a way with principals…"
That she did. I'd never forgotten the way Mom had saved me (not to mention my entire academic career) from expulsion from Sarayashiki Jr. High, and how she'd somehow secured me a spot a full grade ahead at Meiou High School, all at the eleventh house. I'd never be able to repay her for that, but that didn't mean I wanted to take even more time away from school. If anything, it made me want to go back, to make the most of the opportunity she'd secured so many months ago. So I just shook my head, trying to look stern as I put my foot down—and my fork, too, for emphasis.
"I appreciate it, you two, but I really think it's best I go back as soon as possible," I said. "Don't want to fall behind on my studies, right?"
My parents exchanged a reluctant look before agreeing, although neither appeared happy to acquiesce. I didn't acknowledge their discomfort, though; I was just glad they weren't going to press the issue. They'd been incredibly clingy since my brush with death. And sure, it was reasonable of them to be protective of their only child after almost losing her to a mysterious illness (blah blah blah, parental love and whanot), but still. Much as I loved my mom and dad, I hadn't had a single freakin' second alone since waking up in the hospital. Between nurses, parents, doctors and visiting friends, the only time I'd had to myself was on the goddamn toilet, and I'd practically had to kick my mom out the door to get it. It was high time I had some space; it was high time to shed my Keiko Face and just be me, not play the role of dutiful, patient daughter to keep my parents happy.
To put it bluntly, I felt suffocated. As soon as Kaito and Amanuma had left the night before after I dropped my bombshell revelation on them, my parents had swooped in and literally set up camp on my bedroom floor to keep my company until bedtime. At this point I was almost desperate to be alone.
Escape presented itself when it came time to head to school. It took some convincing for my parents to let me go by myself without an escort, but once I left the house to fly solo, the tension drained from my shoulders like water from a cracked bowl. The birds singing in the trees, the blue sky, the sweet, late-springtime air—it felt cliché to say the day gleamed as brightly as I felt, like a shiny penny reflecting sunshine on the sidewalk, but it's true. The gorgeous weather mirrored my now-free spirit perfectly, and I heaved an open sigh of contentment as I traveled down the sidewalk toward school.
Shops were only just opening for the day, given the early hour, but one shopkeeper spotted me not too long after I started walking. "Yukimura!" she called out, waving. "Glad to see you're looking well. Your mother said you took ill last week."
"Right as rain now, though!" I called back with a grin. "You have a good day!"
"You, too! And try not to get sick again!"
"I won't!"
I meant that, of course, but halfway to school, my head started to feel a touch floaty. Definitely should've eaten more breakfast. I settled onto an empty bench at a random bus stop to take a quick breather, feeling annoyed that I couldn't walk the whole way to school without taking a break. Normally I could run full-tilt to school without stopping, but today that just wasn't in the cards. Mushiyori Fever hit its victims hard, leaving me with lasting fatigue as well as a strange new Territory.
A Territory I still hadn't been able to use more than a handful of hesitant times, I reminded myself, but the thought wasn't a pleasant one, so I looked around the bus stop for a distraction while waiting for my head to stop swimming.
There wasn't much. Just people walking by, more birds singing in a nearby tree, cars puttering past with the sputter and spit of engines. Gorgeous day. Shame I had to spend it in school, but at least I wasn't stuck at home or in the hospital. I'd finally get to see Kurama on equal footing, out from under the watchful eye of my parents… only my parents would obviously want me to head straight home after school, so we probably wouldn't get to talk much about anything important.
My heart sank. Damn. Kurama had been distant when he visited in the hospital, and I'd been looking forward to seeing him outside of it. But school wouldn't be as freeing as I hoped, either…
Passing a hand over my face with a sigh, my eyes caught on the fliers stuck to the inside of the bus stop's awning. Some ads for local services and shops, a few study group adverts, and a cram school pamphlet fluttered in the warm spring zephyr… but smack on top of them, impolitely blocking the others in clear violation of unspoken bust-stop-flier etiquette, sat a poster with big, bold lettering proclaiming a band called THE BILLBOARD FACES would be playing a rock show at a venue downtown next week, and you wouldn't want to miss it.
I stared at the poster in silence for a second. They'd clearly made the flier by printing and then photocopying things a bunch of times, text and pictures grainy and low-tech and badly spaced, a few words here and there colored in by hand with a marker for emphasis. Despite the low quality, the image of a trio of guys under the band's name was clear enough. I made out a guy with a guitar and a pompadour, another guy with a shaved head, and a final dude with long hair hanging over his leather-clad chest. The trio looked vaguely familiar, but they were all wearing eyeliner and studded costumes, and for a minute I couldn't place them.
"The Billboard Faces…" My brow furrowed. "Wait a second." I poked at the poster as if it could feel me. "I know you! J'accuse!"
It felt like millennia since I last laid eyes on the trio of punks who'd beaten the crap out of Kuwabara back when he'd been barred from fighting by Iwamoto, and even longer still since I beat the crap out of them in retribution. Gosh, these were the same boys who'd tried to make themselves into my Yakuza-style lackeys, weren't they, in order to repay a debt they were convinced they owed? The one with the crew cut (what was his name again?) had actually broken up with his girlfriend (wait, what was her name again?) in order to follow me around, and then she'd taken her rage out on me and defaced my desk and whatnot.
"Masaru," I muttered, eyes on the boy with the shaved head. "Right. His name was Masaru. His friends with Shinji and Tadashi. And his girlfriend, Naoko…"
I still saw Naoko in the halls sometimes, but we didn't often cross paths. Pretty sure that was on purpose on her part. Naoko always gave me a wide berth and avoided eye-contact whenever possible. Junko and Amagi and the rest of Kurama's fangirls, not to mention Kurama himself, had all stood up for me and chased Naoko off with veiled threats when the bullying got really bad; apparently their intimation tactics had some staying power. Gosh, that had been such a huge source of drama at the time, but I hadn't given it a second thought in months. The wrath of a jilted schoolgirl paled in comparison to the stuff I'd been through lately with Hiruko, Territories, and the looming threat of the Chapter Black Arc. Reminiscing about Naoko almost made me feel a little nostalgic for those simple days…
"Looks like those punks really did it, though." I gave the edge of the poster a flick. "They said they wanted to be in a band, and look at them now! They're playing a gig. I'm so proud. Not quite a billboard yet like they promised, but it's definitely a start."
Ah, right. They'd struck a deal with me and finally left me alone when I explained how much trouble their fixation on me had caused in regard to Naoko. I'd pushed them to chase their musical dreams, promising that I'd call them for a favor someday once they made it big, and that would be how they're make it up to me for causing trouble. Now it looked like they'd chased after those dreams with both hands.
"Man. Good going, you three." I cracked a grin. "Someday I'll say I knew—and beat them up—when." My nose wrinkled. "Only maybe you need a new band name, because I'm not sure 'The Billboard Faces' is it."
Bad name or not, the glee of seeing them chase their dreams was infectious, and my head soon cleared. I gave the flier a pat, tore off a few of the tabs at the bottom that listed the show date and time (to make their poster look like it had garnered interest from others, because every little bit helps), and got back on the road. The rest of the trip passed quickly, and when I reached Meiou High School, I greeted the place with a grin. Gosh, had someone given the place a new coat of paint while I was gone? It looked shiny and new, or at least it did in my eager eyes. Had anyone ever been as happy as I was to get back to school? I practically whistled as I passed through the gates and headed for the genkan.
I didn't make it far, though. Only halfway across the yard, a voice rang out with a cry of my name, and I turned to find Junko trotting toward me from the bike racks.
"You're back!" she said, bubblegum pink-glossed lips curling in an eager smile "Good to see you. I wasn't sure when you'd show up, but damn am I glad you're here!"
"Good to see you, too, Junko. How are things?"
"Oh, you know. People were freaking out the whole time you were sick, mostly." She rolled her eyes and planted one manicured hand on her hip. "You'll probably get a lot of presents this week from well-wishers, so don't be too surprised if there's a bunch of junk in your desk today."
"Thanks for the warning."
"Keiko!"
This time it was Amagi who called my name and came trotting over. Was I imagining it, or did her hair look a little longer than I remember, her unfortunate bob cut a little less severe than usual? Eh, it hardly mattered. I was just happy to see her, especially when she looked me over with a relieved smile in her dark, liquid eyes.
"You're back!" she said. "I'm so glad!"
"Hey, Amagi. You keep everyone in line while I was out?"
"I did my best."
"Hey, she's probably gonna get mobbed when we get to class," Junko told Amagi, jerking a thumb in my direction. "Wanna help me run interference?"
Amagi nodded gravely. "Keiko deserves peace and quiet after what she's been through."
Junko nodded back, flipped her hair, and strutted off with a determined scowl, glaring at anyone we passed who looked at me for too long. Amagi fell into step at my side, a silent escort, as we headed for the genkan and removed our shoes. Our lockers were near each other, Junko's further away, and as I bent to slip out of my leather loafers, Amagi's soft voice pierced the quiet.
"You seem different, Keiko," she said.
"Huh?" My head jerked up to find her regarding me thoughtfully, lips pursed. "Uh, um, how—?"
"I'm not sure." She appeared puzzled. "You just look…"
She stopped talking. I stopped breathing. Amagi was spiritually aware; could she sense my Territory somehow? I hated the thought of lying to her, especially so soon after vowing to be more honest with people. But Genkai told me not to tell anyone about my power (fuck!) and we had an audience in the nearby Junko, so it was all I could do to force a smile and shrug.
"Yeah, I think I dropped a few pounds in the hospital," I said. "The food was terrible."
"Maybe that's it," Amagi eventually murmured—but she did not seem convinced.
When we reached the classroom, Junko proved she had the powers of prediction, because my desk was covered in cards, bags of homemade treats, and even a bouquet of flowers too wilted to have been left there by Kurama. I barely saw these things before the chatter in the classroom died, growing graveyard quiet just before an outcry of my name rang up from a dozen different mouths. Despite Junko and Amagi's best efforts, I was promptly swarmed by people asking questions and shouting congratulations at my recovery—and a few "glad you're not deads," which made me laugh. The crowd followed like a flock of seagulls around a hot dog cart, overwhelming and loud, as I sat at my desk and sorted through the cards, munching on treats whenever someone pointed out which ones they'd made. To my surprise, nobody seemed bothered at the thought of me being contagious. They were just… nice. And on any other day, it would've been pleasant to be so cared for and doted on, but having to keep my polite Keiko Face in place was grating as hell. Taking this in stride meant playacting the part of popular-class-rep Keiko. As people continued to press closer and closer and as Junko mouthed 'sorry' at me from across the room, I found myself wishing I were still on my walk to school and away from all of this. The final bell of the day couldn't come soon enough…
Still. It was nice to know I held some manner of popularity. The degree to which people cared was kind of surprising, actually, though not unpleasant. I'd never been popular in my old life. I wasn't entirely sure how to handle Keiko's reputation (which I had to assume belonged entire to her, gained through no fault of my own) in this one.
It was almost a relief when Kaito and Kurama—members of that select handful of people who were sure to treat me normally—walked into class, but they just eyed me from afar and did not approach. Kurama looked amused at my gaggle of well-wishers when I shot him a look of desperation. Kaito just rolled his eyes, though, and sat down at his desk without sparing me another glance.
My gut lurched. What did that mean? I hadn't spoken to him since the night before, when I broke the news to him and Amanuma. How did he feel about my revelations now, in the unforgiving light of day? And how did it feel for him to stand beside Kurama, now that he knew the truth?
Luckily our teacher chased everyone in class away when the bell rang. He didn't make a big deal at all over my reappearance when he called roll, for while I was immensely grateful. He only acknowledged my absence when the lunch bell rang and he pulled me aside and into the teacher's workroom to go over some assignments I'd missed. I didn't mind, though. It just helped me avoid another crowd. Thanks to him, I was able to sneak off to lunch in the usual stairwell by the library without a troupe of groupies on my ass, giving me a blessed moment alone to collect myself as I climbed to the top of the flight.
I found Kaito and Kurama waiting for me, like usual. The sight of them sitting together after the conversation I'd had with Kaito last night put a quiver of nerves in my stomach. Kurama wore a bland, pleasant smile (impossible to read) while Kaito stared in my direction from behind his glasses, light catching on the square lenses and obscuring his eyes. He looked like an anime villain. How dramatic of him.
"Yukimura," he muttered darkly, sounding like a villain, too. "How kind of you to join us."
"Uh. Hi." I stopped at landing below them, feeling shy for absolutely no reason. "What's up?"
"We were just discussing the test coming up this afternoon," Kurama replied without missing a beat. "Do you think you're prepared, or is our teacher letting you delay?"
"Delay. He just told me."
"That's to your advantage, I suspect. The material is quite tricky." He indicated the notebook lying open across his knees. "In fact, Kaito and I were considering a study session this week to brush up on…"
Kaito didn't say much as Kurama talked about the material from a chapter I'd missed whilst out sick, and Kurama spoke like I'd never been gone at all, words smooth and tone as even as a sheet of fresh paper. He barely looked at me, though. As I joined them on the stairs and unpacked my lunch, it felt to me like Kurama sounded detached—almost Zen in his unhurried delivery, in fact. In the discussion of the text that followed, he didn't mention my illness once, only alluding in the abstract to my absence from school.
In short, he acted just like he had at the hospital. And while we did have an audience in Kaito, I thought he'd at least loosen up a little bit now that we were with peers. What gives?
Cool green eyes caught mine. "No bracelet today?"
I flinched. He'd been ignoring me rather effectively until that point; the question came nearly out of nowhere. Took me a second to even realize what he must be talking about, but when I saw his eyes linger on my wrist, I gave the naked skin a soft rub.
"Oh," I said, trying to sound casual. "Forgot it at home, I guess."
Kurama frowned, but he didn't say anything else about the bracelet I'd acquired from the Beautiful Suzuka on Hanging Neck Island. I tried not to feel guilty. My words held deception, but they were bare of outright lies. I had forgotten to bring the bracelet with me… it's just that that wasn't the whole story. I was saving that story for Genkai, and maybe even Cleo eventually. No telling when I'd meet her again, though.
Kaito watched the exchange with a frown. "Minamino," (he used Kurama's civilian name without flinching), "I didn't realize you were interested in accessorizing."
"I'm not in most cases." Kurama shrugged. "Kei is something of a creature of habit, however, and she hasn't taken off that bracelet since acquiring it."
Kaito's brow shot up. "And you noticed the minute it left her wrist."
Another shrug. "I'm the observant sort, I suppose."
"They took it off me at the hospital," I volunteered (and this was also true, though again not the whole story). "I'm still getting back to normal, I guess."
"A return to form I welcome with open arms," Kaito said. "The brouhaha—"
I beamed. "Good word."
"—surrounding your illness has been, to put it bluntly, irritating in the extreme. Here." From his bag he pulled two identical books, which he handed to Kurama and me. "Your reading assignment for the week. I'm writing a paper analyzing the literary devices used to convey tone and mood, and I would like your input as I craft a compelling—"
Kaito droned on for some time, much like he normally would when pursuing a new literary thread. Kurama listened in polite silence, eyes rapt on Kaito's face (instead of trading sly looks with me, I noted sourly), so I opened my book and thumbed through it with absent fingers. Attention sharpened when a slip of paper between the pages caught my eye. I shut the book without reading what was written there, hoping Kurama hadn't noticed.
An attempt by Kaito at covert communication, huh? Interesting.
Lunch passed fast, considering I'd missed half of it. Kurama's temperate smiles remained meteorologically consistent when we headed back to class, demeanor calm like a spring day with no signs of inclement weather on the horizon. And that felt… odd. I'd grown adroit at reading Kurama, but I couldn't tell what he was feeling at all that day, face of his mood obscured by a fine mist of vague intentions. Was this some kind of calm before a storm, perhaps? Maybe if I caught him completely alone, he'd be more open…
I couldn't say. As we settled back into class, the teacher began their lecture, and I surreptitiously opened Kaito's book on my lap under my desk. The paper he'd slipped inside bore only a few words in Kaito's thin, spidery script:
"'Call me this evening as soon as you're able. I will wait to hear from you.'" I read the words aloud under my breath, lips barely moving. "Guy works fast…"
The teacher heard me anyway. "Yukimura. Please be quiet."
"Sorry, sensei!"
People giggled while I slumped in my chair, trying to look inconspicuous. I didn't dare look for Kurama's reaction. I thought instead about the paper, which I popped into my mouth and swallowed while feigning a yawn.
Kaito's clandestine communication was consistent with his behavior following the conversation we'd had the night before, and it felt perfectly in line with his general personality as well. He'd shrugged off the "Big Reveal" regarding my past life quickly—almost shockingly quickly, in face, as had Amanuma. Amanuma had adjusted to the news like a rubber band bouncing back, the way most kids snap back from big news, admirably adjusting to new information. He even went so far as to say my past life secret was 'very cool, like really, really awesome,' but he already viewed me as a grownup, so the thought of me being even older than I looked didn't phase him in the slightest.
Kaito, though? He was shockingly blasé about the whole thing, against all expectations. "This merely adds context to the inconsistencies I had already noted in your demeanor," was all he said on the matter. He was slightly disappointed that I was not just a regular kid interested in literature, like him, but that was all…
—until I'd told him about my college life. Then he'd flipped out, green with envy and ranting at the utter unfairness that my world apparently prized literature to a degree his own world did not.
But that was a recollection I'd save for another time, because it paled in comparison to his reaction to Kurama. He'd absorbed the existence of demons, the existence of Spirit World and the looming threat of the supernatural gracefully, but when I got to the part where I explained Minamino's dual identity as Kurama, a thousand-year-old reincarnated fox demon posing as an ordinary high school boy? He'd thrown quite the conniption fit over that one.
Not that you'd know it by looking at him today, though. He sat with perfect posture during our teacher's lecture, eyes straight ahead, not at all perturbed that a demon sat only a few chairs away. But that was to be expected. Once he'd had his fit over Kurama, Kaito had calmed like a boiling kettle removed from heat—and as was his custom, he used rationality and logic to bludgeon reality to fit his narrow worldview.
"Well," he'd said as his cheeks cooled from purple to red to merely freckled. "I suppose this does explain his academic prowess. If he's had literal centuries to learn about the workings of the world, it's quite a feat that I can keep up at all… and even outwit him in some areas."
I had rolled my eyes at his egotistical smile. "Leave it to you to remember that part."
"Still. A demon." He shook his head, eyes distant behind his glasses. "A wolf—"
"A fox."
"Right. A fox demon… yes, I suppose that's only fitting," Kaito mused. "He's wily, crafty—oh."
He looked at me in shock, lips parted and eyes side. I shifted in my seat and groused a grouchy 'what?' at him, not liking that look in his eyes at all. His jaw snapped shut with a click.
"For a time when we first met, you were wary of Mina—of Kurama," he said, name sounding foreign in his mouth as he fit past puzzle pieces together. "You wouldn't be alone with him. I take it his demonic nature had something to do with it."
"Let's just say I didn't come out of the reincarnation closet with him willingly," I said. "A long dance preceded that particular revelation."
"And now you're thick as thieves… appropriate, considering his former occupation." Realization dawned like a Siberian morning after thirty days of night. "The puns. The puns were—!"
"I mighta played with him a little bit at the beginning," I admitted with a grin. Couldn't resist."
"Devious. I approve." He looked me over as if seeing me for the first time. "No wonder you fascinate him."
My scalp prickled. "Fascinate?"
Amanuma, who had been watching us speak in silence, gave a bored whine. "What are you two even talking about?"
"Nothing. Just an observation." Kaito pushed his glasses up his nose with a fingertip. "Anyway. What happens now?"
I didn't get to answer that question because my parents had muscled into the room and ended the conversation shortly after Kaito, Amanuma and I made only the most tentative of plans… hence the note asking me to call Kaito, no doubt to set up more. I'd definitely call him once I reached home. But when the final bell of the day rang, it was for Kurama I headed, hoping to pull him aside and share a private word—
He was gone, however, ghosting from the room before the bell even finished ringing. I looked for him in forlorn silence until Junko slipped her hand into my elbow, searching my face with concern.
"You OK?" she asked.
"Yeah, fine. Just…" I rubbed my eyes. "Long first day back."
Amagi took my other elbow. "We'll walk you home."
And thus, they did, shooing away well-wishers so I could have a moment of peace.
That wasn't what I really wanted, though.
What I really wanted was to figure out what the heck was up with Kurama—but it seemed like that would have to wait for another day.
Botan and Yusuke were waiting for me when I got home. I'd barely opened my bedroom door when Botan tackled me into a big bear hug, nearly sending my buckling knees to the floor with her exuberance. Yusuke looked on with a snicker as Botan shoved me into my desk chair and upended a paper bag over my lap. Brightly colored objects rained onto my skirt; she watched with bated breath and huge magenta eyes as I picked through the mess piece by piece.
"Lip gloss?" I said, holding up a sparkling tube. "Mascara? Nail polish? You brought me a whole makeup store!"
Botan nodded at the makeup she'd gifted me. "It was the best I could do for a welcome-home present on short notice."
"And it's great!" A white lie, never hurt anybody; I didn't own makeup and never wore it, but the thought counted more than the objects themselves. "But, uh… how the heck did you pay for this? It's not like Spirit World gives you an allowance…"
Yusuke, lying on the floor near the TV with Famicon controller in hand, scoffed and rolled his eyes. "How'd she pay?" he parroted with unconcealed snark. "Why don't you ask Hiei?"
Botan rounded on him with a stomp of one socked foot. "Yusuke, shut up!"
"Hiei?" I repeated as the penny dropped. "Oh. He's been teaching you bad habits, Botan? Always wondered how he fed himself before he met me…"
Yusuke snickered. "He's teaching you all about Evil Eyes and Sticky Fingers, huh Botan?"
"Like you're one to pass judgment on the poor demon, Yusuke!" She shook her head, teeth gnashing. "You're now allowed in half the shops in the city with your shoplifting habits!"
"Sheesh, don't bite my head off!"
"I wouldn't if you would just be nice to Hiei!"
"What, you like the guy or something?"
"You—" Botan's mouth worked, but no words came out. "Yusuke, why I never—!"
He'd managed to catch Botan off guard, but Yusuke didn't look happy about it as he and Botan bickered and fought without making eye contact. They often bantered, but usually there was a sense of joy there—an air of challenge and fun as they verbally sparred, fighting to see who could throw the other the most off-balance. Tonight there was only a strange tension, one I couldn't quite put my finger on. Hadn't they had some kind of fight recently? I thought they'd made up. And things only really got weird once Yusuke brought up Hiei. But what did that—?
Oh, god. Was this a love triangle? Fuck. Now that was a mess I didn't need right now. Scrambling, I cut back into the conversation before it could get even bloodier.
"So Botan," I said, cutting her off just as she started to really lay into Yusuke. "Where is Hiei, anyway?"
"Likely in one of his usual haunts," she said, strained voice easing up a tad. "You know how introverted he is at the best of times. He'll likely darken your door one of these days, I'm sure. We were all worried about you, even Hiei, try though he might to hide it." A small smile crossed her face. "But I know him too well to fall for the strong and silent act."
Yusuke rolled onto his side on the floor, hunching over his shoulder and putting his back to Botan. Interesting reaction, that. I filed the information away for later.
"Well. I'm not gonna pretend it's not nice to feel cared for, though I hope I didn't worry all of you too much," I said. Organizing the makeup Botan had brought me on the desk, I said, "But I gotta ask. After I collapsed, what did you…?" I waved a hand through the air, stirring. "What happened with all of you, is what I'm asking."
"Oh, right," Botan said. "This is the first time we've been alone since the hospital, isn't it?"
"Can't exactly talk with eavesdropping parents and doctors around, huh?" Yusuke grunted.
My heart lurched. "So something they can't hear about did happen, then?"
"Well, perhaps there was one thing." Botan shrugged, choosing her words slowly. "For the most part it was all very mundane, of course. You took ill, so we took you to the hospital as quickly as we could. Yusuke slept in the waiting room like a good little brother—"
"Hey, watch it!" he snapped.
"—and Kurama kept him company. Hiei…" She laughed a little, warm with affection (while Yusuke's slouch deepened). "Well, he's Hiei, isn't he? He went off into the night and burned down a few trees to take the edge off. But Kuwabara…"
"Yes?" I said when she trailed off, looking pensive.
"That dork ran laps around the hospital like we were back in gym class," Yusuke said. "Before that, though, he kind of… well…"
Yusuke trailed off, too. Finally he and Botan looked at one another again, sharing a quick, uncertain glance that gelled into one of firm agreement. Wow, they really were close in this timeline, huh? That was nonverbal communication if I'd ever seen it.
"You may need to speak to him directly," Botan said with a resolute nod. "It's rather personal, I'm afraid, and you know how he feels about you right now."
Ah. So they weren't willing to share his personal information. Botan was staying with the Kuwabaras, so she no doubt had talked to him and knew exactly what he was feeling about me. Still touchy about the power imbalance of me knowing so much about him while he knew nothing about me in return, if I had to guess. But I didn't need Botan to confirm anything. The fact that were was something noteworthy about Kuwabara they couldn't tell me at all was confirmation enough of my suspicions. I couldn't forget what I'd seen right before I collapsed and my vision whited out. That rush of light, the crackle of power on my skin, how quickly the air had changed from home to hospital…
"OK. I can respect that. Just tell me this." I eyed the Famicon. "When I collapsed, did Kuwabara seem to… level up, in a sense?"
Botan frowned. "Level up?"
"Yeah."
"Oh!" Yusuke's head turned sharply, getting the metaphor. "Yeah, he totally did! How did you know?"
I shrugged. "Swordfish."
"Oh. Duh." His eyes rolled. "Why'd I even bother asking…"
"Can somebody please clue me in!?" said Botan.
Yusuke explained the metaphor, and Botan got it almost at once; she just hadn't played enough video game to understand the term. Neither of them talked about Kuwabara's own version of a level-up, of course. They shot me sideways glances and talked around the incident before Yusuke went back to the Famicon. He didn't look happy as he mashed buttons, probably agitated that I couldn't say more, but he understood and respect the rules of "swordfish" not to pry further. In the end, though, no matter what Yusuke could or could not tell me, it sounded like Kuwabara had indeed managed to access his Jigen To, or Dimension Sword, in my moment of need. That ultra-amazing technique that could cut through anything, including space and time, and fandom had long speculated this would give Kuwabara the power to teleport at will. That seemed to be the case considering how fast he'd transported me to the hospital.
And that jived with canon just as much as it contradicted it. In the anime and manga, he'd developed his new sword in reaction to seeing his friends Okubo, Kirishima and Sawamura in mortal peril at the hands of Sensui's lackey, Seaman. In this timeline, seeing me in danger had been the catalyst. Looks like no matter the world or timeline, a friend in need always sparked Kuwabara's development. Sure, the Dimension Sword was ahead of schedule given Kuwabara was supposed to debut it mid-Chapter Black and not before the saga began, but… at least it had manifested in reaction to a situation that was comparable to canon, right? Was I allowed to draw comfort from that?
Reflecting how I felt, Yusuke looked unsettled, playing his game in a sullen mood while I thought things through. Botan sat on my bed with her knees pulled against her chest and gazed thoughtfully out the window. Eventually Yusuke sighed, eyes flickering from the screen to my face.
"What's eating you?" I asked when he looked away without speaking.
"Just trying to get past this boss, is all." He jammed at the buttons with a growl. "He keeps spamming me with 'sap' and wiping my team with AOE attacks!"
"Yusuke…" I said, not buying this excuse in the slightest.
"Yes, Yusuke," Botan scolded. "Be honest with her!"
He huffed. "Yeah, Botan, I know, but it's hard!"
"Wait…" My pleasure at having Botan back me up vanished. "You two… have you been talking about me or something?"
"Well, duh!" The words exploded from Yusuke's mouth like a bullet from a gun. "You tell us you're from another world and you went and almost died; you're kind of hard to not talk about!"
My hands shot up in surrender. "Fair. That's fair. But what's up, then?"
He sighed. I thought he might avoid the conversation, as he so often avoided tough talks, but the boss battle ended in defeat a moment later. Yusuke tossed the controller to the floor and sat up, legs crisscrossing as he gripped his hands and glared.
"Look, Keiko… me and Botan were talking about it, how you getting sick came out of left field, and we were wondering…" His chin ducked close to his chest. "Well, we were wondering if you knew."
"If I knew?" I repeated, mystified.
He nodded.
"If I knew what?"
"You know!" he said. "Did you know you were going to collapse?"
My head jerked back as if he'd struck me. "What?"
"Did you know you were gonna get sick?" Brown eyes blazed defiant and bright, lit from within by bullish agitation. "Because the whole thing sucked and if you knew but you didn't tell us—!"
"What he's trying to say," Botan cut in in a much gentler voice and with a warning look in Yusuke's direction, "is that while we respect and agree with your decision to keep some secrets in the interest of preserving canon, this is something we would've loved to get just a teensy-weensy little warning about. Watching a friend suffer is difficult, and even a hint about what was coming would've helped us tremendously."
"Yeah, what she said!" A grin cut through Yusuke's stormy mood. "Anyone ever tell you that you talk pretty good sometimes, Botan?"
"My eloquence is part of my charm, I'm told." A giggle turned into a sigh. "Hiei just tells me to talk less, however."
"Well, talk to me anytime." Yusuke's lazy grin looked satisfied, indeed. "Learn a lot of vocabulary with you around, that's for sure."
"Aww, Yusuke…"
"I—I didn't know."
They turned to me in silence, identical suspicion on their faces. And that hurt, even though I knew it was warranted. That I'd earned that suspicion, that doubt and hard distrust, after months and years of lies. That I deserved to have to explain that I would never hurt them like that, when deep in my soul I'd hoped they'd never question such a thing.
But I did have to explain it. And that cut me deeper than any knife.
"Me getting sick was—it was totally unexpected." I started to mention how I didn't even remember Mushiyori Fever being a plot point in Yu Yu Hakusho prior to getting sick and seeing its Territory-granting consequences, but mentioning the illness was plot-relevant was a huge, spoilery clue, so I thought better of it. Looking between them in desperate earnestness, I said, "I legitimately thought I was going to die for a minute there. Nothing like that was ever supposed to happen to Keiko—nothing. So that was—"
"Again with the third-person talk! It's creepy. We're talking about you, not some other Keiko who isn't here." Yusuke rolled of his eyes. "And would you have even told us if it was supposed to happen to you?"
The question rendered me speechless. I gaped at him, unable to form words.
"It's not an accusation. It's just a question," he said with a logical, level-headed intonation I could scarcely believe belonged to the irascible punk. "If that was supposed to happen, would you have warned us? Could you have warned us? Or does it even matter?"
"Of course it matters," I was quick to reply. "I just… I just don't know how to answer. There are so many things I don't feel like I can tell you, but I want to believe that something like that—like if you were going to lose me, or if I was meant to lose one of you, or—"
My breathing hitched. Botan tittered and handed me a tissue. Yusuke leaned away like my emotions might be catching—and there was that asshole I loved so much, staring at me in immature horror.
"Oh god. You're getting weepy," he said, disgusted. "Abort interrogation, abort interrogation!"
But I shook my head, dabbing at the tears that hadn't yet spilled. "No. No. I want to talk about this. I promised you—all of you—that I'd be honest. That I'd stop lying, to just tell you when I can't say something. And I'm taking that seriously, I swear." I shook my head and spoke to my lap, hands clenching atop my knees. "Keiko wasn't supposed to get sick. I wasn't supposed to get sick. I don't know why I got sick in this timeline, not for sure. So… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for worrying you." My throat thickened, threatening more tears. "And I'm sorry I didn't know."
"Well, then." Yusuke flopped onto his side and grabbed the Famicon controller, staring blankly at the TV. "Apology accepted."
Took me a second to realize what he'd said. "Really?" My tears were gone, shock scattering them like fallen leaves. "Just like that?"
"Of course, Keiko." Botan put her hand to my knee and squeezed. "We were never angry about this to begin with. You nearly died, after all. What you went through seemed far worse than our side of things."
"I dunno," Yusuke grumbled. "I had to clean up the barf you left in my apartment, so…"
Botan snatched a pillow off my bed and chucked it with a screech. "Yusuke!"
"It was gross!" he whined, dodging the projectile. "But yeah, Tex. So long as you weren't lying, you kept your promise, so we're not mad. And I can tell you're not lying about not warning us, so… it's all good." He dodged another pillow and cursed. "Stop throwing pillows, Botan! I wanna play Dragon Quest!"
But she did not stop. She grabbed another and went after him with a feral scream, beating him over the head with fluff until they were both shrieking with laughter. And I was laughing, too, in spite of myself, from relief and humor blending into a heady mixture in my overjoyed chest. When a moment of quiet availed itself amid Botan and Yusuke's shenanigans, I caught their eyes with a smile.
"Thanks," I told them. "For believing me."
"Heh." Yusuke ran his thumb along his nose and grinned. "We're pretty cool to do that, I guess."
Normally I would've told him to take his head out of his ass and return from his ego trip to the real world—but that night, all I did was agree, because in my biased eyes, he spoke the absolute truth.
We played Dragon Quest as a group until late, when Botan eventually departed for the Kuwabara residence. Shizuru was a cutthroat keeper of curfews, apparently, and would lock the doors without mercy after a certain hour. I expected Yusuke to go with her and walk her home, but he did not. He just stayed on my floor with controller in hand, looking quite comfortable on the mountain of pillows Botan had thrown his way.
He seemed content to sit in silence in my bedroom, which suited me fine. I had a lot to think about. It had never occurred to me that they might think I'd known I'd get sick and had kept that information secret, though it made sense now that they'd said it. I'd been setting up a pattern of distrust for years now: lying, omitting, and making too-handy excuses whenever I got caught. Now I reaped what I'd sown. It was only by the grace of Yusuke's good faith in me that he'd believed it when I told him the truth about not knowing.
It wasn't lost on me that Yusuke's faith in me as a person was also the result of a pattern I'd set up for years: listening to him, being there for him, trusting him in kind. Another lifetime's work I'd sown and now reaped, although this time in a positive sense.
But his questions and accusations, despite the faith he'd shown, got me thinking. Maybe Kurama had similar questions about my illness. Maybe that's why he'd been distant. Did he, perhaps, also think I'd kept my illness a secret, cruelly letting them worry for my wellbeing while I luxuriated in the knowledge I'd be fine once I came out the other side? If so, I needed to tell him that wasn't the case. I needed to make things right. I needed to soothe his worries and tell him the truth, too—and oh, wow. Look at me, proactively seeking out opportunities to be honest. If that didn't signal character development…
Inwardly I winced, recalling Yusuke's dig at my habit of speaking in third person. I needed to stop thinking of myself as a fictional character, even if in many ways I was one. That level of disassociation couldn't be healthy.
"Say, Yusuke?" I said as the night dragged on.
He didn't look away from the TV. "Hmm?"
"You and Botan talked about me being sick and keeping it from you and whatnot. Did you talk to anyone else about that possibility?"
"Nah. Hiei doesn't talk about shit and Kuwabara didn't want to discuss anything, either."
"And Kurama?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
Yusuke shrugged. "I mentioned the possibility to him, but we didn't, like, debate it or anything. Why?"
"No reason."
We sat for a while longer without speaking, Yusuke lost in his game, me lost in my thoughts. So he'd mentioned the possibility of me not telling them I'd get sick to Kurama, huh? Maybe this misunderstanding was entirely to blame for Kurama's distant smile. He must be upset about this, too. The only other possibility was that he suspected I had powers and was lying about them, but that didn't seem right. I'd barely gotten to use my powers; how could he possibly know about them and be offended that I hadn't fessed up? No; that was impossible, too complicated to be true. It had to be that the I-knew-I'd-get-sick stuff. It had to be.
Luckily there was an easy way to omit the he-knows-I-have-a-Territory theory from play. If Kurama sensed I had powers, he'd sense that Kaito had them, too. And if he wasn't treating Kaito oddly, then that meant he was treating me oddly for another reason, one Kaito and I wouldn't have in common. I'd have to talk to Kaito and get his read on the situation ASAP.
Speaking of Kaito: I was supposed to call him tonight, but with Yusuke here, I hadn't gotten the chance. He snored on my floor, sleeping hands loose around the Famicon controller, Dragon Quest music blaring cheerfully through my darkened bedroom. It was late as hell and I'd been so lost in thought, I hadn't even noticed when he fell asleep. I reached out with a toe to nudge his shoulder, gratified when he jolted in place with a loud snort.
"Quit snoring," I told him. "You'll wake the neighbors."
"Asshole," he grumbled, slumping in place against his pillows.
"Jerk." I toed at his shoulder again, knocking the controller askew. "Go home and go to bed."
"But the Famicon is here!" he whined.
"So unplug it and take it with you! You've stolen it before!"
"That's too much work." He settled even deeper into place, digging in like a mole. "I'm comfy here."
"Really."
"Yup."
"On the cold, hard floor."
"Matches my heart."
I snatched a pillow out from under him. "Dumbass!"
"Shut up, Tex!" he snarled. "I don't wanna move, OK?"
"Just get the hell up, Yusuke, you need to—"
We squabbled in the dark, but even when I stole every last pillow, he refused to leave. I went so far as to threaten to unplug the Famicon and wipe his progress, but he just said he'd start the game all over and that'd only make him stay longer, so I refrained. Jesus, he was annoying. He wore a shit-eating-grin as he lounged on my floor without a care in the world, clearly not giving a damn about disrupting my circadian rhythms (rhythms I, a person recovering from illness, needed to respect). Yusuke just laughed, though.
"Look," he said, clearly not buying my health concerns, "we both know you're garbage at this game, Tex."
"Says the guy who always calls me over to beat the bosses for him."
"I just do that to make you feel good about yourself," he said, dismissal rolling easy off the tongue. "You barely got any further in this game at all despite being locked up in the hospital. Clearly you need my help. I'm staying here and playing this for you, ya feel me?"
"Yusuke, you little—"
A weird glint in his eyes stopped me cold. An odd energy, a certain raw nerve, belied his casual posture and our heated banter. His relaxed sprawl looked almost calculated, tension in his shoulders not quite meshing with his splayed legs and lazy grin. That tension only pulled tighter when I told him again that he should leave.
Huh. The thought of leaving upset him. He put up a front and claimed that staying was for my benefit, not his. And he was making excuses to stay despite everything I'd said… almost like…
He didn't want to go at all, did he? He pretended he wanted to play games, but really…
I wasn't sure if he wanted to keep an eye on me so I didn't pull something shady, or if he just missed me after I stayed so long in the hospital, or if he was feeling sentimental after almost losing me to Mushiyori Fever. I also didn't care which one of those possibilities was the truth. Yusuke wanted to stay—and after feeling like I'd almost lost him to doubt and suspicion, I didn't care if this was for his benefit or mine.
Yusuke wanted to stay here, with me.
Who was I to tell him no?
"OK, fine. Stay if you want." I pretended to be annoyed, huffing and puffing as I stood and headed for the bathroom to change into pajamas. "But I'm gonna backseat-game the shit out of you until I fall asleep."
"Heh. That's more like it, Tex," Yusuke said—and for one glorious second, things nearly felt like they were back to normal.
NOTES
Sup.
Since you last heard from me, I came out as nonbinary. My pronouns are they/them/theirs. Thanks in advance for adjusting to this change.
Coming out alienated me from NQK. She's the representation of a past version of myself, and I've grown and changed a lot since she was first committed to paper. It's taken a long time for me to find her voice—my past voice—again. Writing/watching characters refer to her as a girl in this story can be really dysphoric, for instance, but I've put in the time to get used to it. People in this story are going to continue to use she/her pronouns until NQK figures out her gender on her own. She didn't go through what I did in 2020 and 2021, so for her, gender hasn't been at the top of her list of things to figure out. She'll catch up with me someday, even if it's not within the confines of Lucky Child. Have patience with her until then. Hints of her nonbinary gender are already peppered throughout this story, though, so let's just call her a trans egg and leave it at that for now.
In case you didn't see my Tumblr posts about it, this is the final story arc of Lucky Child. We're probably in the last third (quarter? fifth?) of the story. I have no idea how many words or chapters are left, however. Just know we're in the final arc.
I don't know when I'll have the next chapter finished, but I'd like to return to frequent updates. Will shoot for an every-two-weeks scheduled. We'll see what happens. Am going to dedicated NaNoWriMo to this story, though, so I can at least get another 50k words written.
I'm on TikTok as star_sama13 if you would like to connect there. I post videos frequently.
It's nice to be back. Thanks for waiting, and see you next time.
Especially big thanks to the lovelies who commented since the last time I updated: xenocanaan, Call Brig On Over, ladyofchaos, Domitia Ivory, Yakiitori, Raella's Chronicles, C S Stars, Kaiya Azure, Vienna22, EdenMae, EasilyAmused93, Mia, buzzk97, vodka-and-tea, empressofthedead, Forthwith16, Pelawen Night, cezarina, Sorlian, cestlavie, noble phantasm, AnimePleaseGood, Sarah, tammywammy9, ewokling, kindsoul1991, PretiBurdi, Convoluted Compassion, Princeca andrmeda, M-python-girl, mitsui-supremacy, RaeRurouniFan, fennyjain1831, KhaleesiRenee, VSuperOld, Lady Yun, Lost4ever2Fantasy, PennyPlum, Mistress Belfray, Anya Kristen, TasukiLover05, MysticWolf71891, ValiantSincerity, Whispered Heart, smilesy, PrandyDandy, Sarah, CrystallineChaos, and guests.
