WARNINGS: None

PREVIOUSLY ON: On New Year's Eve many chapters ago, NQK was kidnapped and interrogated by Itsuki, Sensui's ally, over her involvement with Amanuma, whom they'd been trying to recruit. Her energy vanished while inside the stomach of Itsuki's shadow beast.

After being struck by the Shadow Sword by Hiei during the Artifacts of Darkness case, Botan developed a Jagan eye. Hiei has been training her to use it.

In chapter 110, Amagi brought a Makai insect to Kurama and Keiko, seeking help as Mushiyori City plunges into supernatural chaos. Afterward, Kurama and Kei shared a tender moment in the greenhouse at school, speaking about their feelings for one another and the potential of a relationship. He also reminded her of their upcoming dinner with his mother and Kuwabara Sr.; Kei fell ill shortly thereafter. Ever since her illness, Kurama has been holding her at arm's length...

Last chapter, NQK revealed the details of her supernatural life to Amanuma and Kaito. They made plans to visit Genkai to receive training. Kaito has been busy on internet forums trying to track down other Mushiyori Fever victims who gained Territories. Earlier that day at school, he requested Keiko give him a phone call once she got home.

("Previously on" recaps were requested by vodka-and-tea, and I think that's a great idea! I'll be including short recaps with chapter-relevant details from now on.)


LUCKY CHILD

Chapter 120:

"Chemistry Problems"


On account of Yusuke snoring like a chainsaw on my floor, I never got the chance to call Kaito. He tended to go to bed early, and besides: I didn't want to wake Yusuke by placing a call on the personal line in my bedroom, and the phone in the kitchen downstairs connected to the line in my parents' room. They merely had to pick up their receiver to hear every word out of my mouth. Chatting with Kaito about whatever he'd wanted to tell me would have to wait... not that I liked putting it off. Took every ounce of my self control not to sigh as I draped a blanket over Yusuke's sleeping chest. The Famicon controlled slipped from his loose grip like water through a sieve; he didn't stir when I turned off the system, 8-bit music fading into darkness and deep quiet. I watched him in the scant slashes of light leaning through my bedroom window. His jaw hung slack, brow knit, eyes twitching behind fallen lids. He looked peaceful. Far more peaceful than he looked while glaring at the waking world.

Above his sleeping head burned a single, glimmering spark.

I debated reaching out to touch it. Knowing that spark would bloom under my hand into a vision of his dreams held temptation immeasurable—temptation and familiarity, both. Somewhere deep in my chest, I knew that spark would obey me if I gave it a command. I knew that like I knew my own, borrowed name. I wasn't sure why I felt so certain, but since the first time I spotted a dream-spark, I'd known what I could do with it. Beyond simply seeing, I sensed something else. Something distant, just out of reach yet lingering like scent on the tongue. Like if I were to only lift my hand and touch the spark, it would—

The light over Yusuke's face stuttered, a shadow obscuring his features as a knock sounded against the window pane. A flinch curled my spine, but it was only Hiei who came clambering through my window as if beckoned by an engraved invitation. Presumptuous, stray-cat asshole...

"Hiei!" I whispered with a less-than-welcoming glower. "Don't scare me like that."

All he gave in reply was a curt, "I'm hungry."

There was no use arguing when he was like this, all flashing scarlet eyes and pursed lips (ones I didn't dare tell him resembled something suspiciously close to a pout). We went downstairs in silence, Yusuke and my parents alike left sleeping and undisturbed, and entered the kitchen to cook something for my taciturn friend. Hiei said nothing as I hunted for ingredients and started prepping. I didn't talk either, waiting for him to take charge and set the tone. That felt like the least he could do for me.

It was my first time seeing him since my recovery, after all. I had no idea what his mental state was in regard to me as a person. Hiei wasn't one to express his emotions plainly, of course, but hopefully he'd say something to clue me in. Flying blind with him was never fun...

But he refused to throw me a bone. All he did was grunt "hurry up" when I dared to take too long slicing a chicken breast.

"Excuse you," I retorted, hands moving with clipped precision. "I recently recovered from a near-death experience. Forgive me if I'm not cooking your dinner as fast as usual."

Hiei leaned against the door with arms crossed and eyes closed. "And yet you have the energy to run your mouth."

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, Hiei. So torn up about my brush with the afterlife. I can really tell you care about me."

"You utter fool."

I'd spoke in jest, but he'd all but spat the insult, matching my wry tone with more ferocity than felt warranted. My hands paused in their labor when I turned to look at him, hiking a brow high, but he didn't elaborate on what I'd done to merit such a jibe. He just glared like I'd spat in his food or something.

"Excuse you," I repeated. "That's no way to talk to someone who's making you dinner."

His lip curled. "You're the one who should watch their mouth."

"Me?" I sputtered, incensed. "What the hell did I do?"

"If you're too stupid to figure it out," he shot back, "then you're beyond my help."

"Hey! This aggression is not necessary." I shoved aside the sliced chicken breast. "Jesus. First Kurama and now you…"

"Kurama?" Hiei repeated, nonplussed.

"You're both being weird. You're being mean to me and Kurama is pretending I don't exist." My ire rose; I chopped a carrot with vigor. "Frankly, he acts like I didn't nearly bite the bullet. It's like he didn't even notice!"

"Trust me, Meigo," said Hiei in desert-dry tones. "He noticed."

"And yet he acts like it never happened, and he avoids looking at me when I'm in the room." My knife waved like a conductor's baton, rhythmic and dangerous. "I get that our crowd likes to live dangerously, but I'm not usually the one on the front lines. You'd think he'd care a little that I almost died." Here I shot Hiei a glare. "And you'd think you would be nicer to me, too, Hiei. It's like you don't give a crap, either."

Far from cowed by my accusations, Hiei just shrugged and bared his teeth. "If you really think your illness didn't impact us, then you're an even bigger fool than I thought you were."

I latched onto his implication as opposed to his insult, tossing a teasing grin over my shoulder. "Aw, Hiei. So you do care about me?"

But that was not, apparently, the correct thing to say. "Shut your mouth," he spat back, each syllable a drop of acid on his tongue. "Shut up, Meigo."

"Ooh. Testy." Geez, what had crawled up his ass and died tonight? "It's OK to admit you don't want me to kick the bucket, you know." I mimed straightening an invisible crown atop my head. "Although I'd look pretty good in a halo, so maybe death would suit me."

"Jokes, Meigo?" Hiei sneered. "I thought better of you."

That wasn't a witty rejoinder or quick comeback—not like the kind Hiei and I usually traded when we lobbed insults to worm under one another's skin. No, that was an actual value-judgment and condemnation if I'd ever heard one, and from Hiei I'd heard quite a few. I was trying to engage in our usual repartee, but like the world's worst improv partner, he just wasn't working with me at all. Somebody desperately needed to convey the concept of "yes, and" to him, stat. He bulldozed on in complete defiance of my light tone, barking at me from across the kitchen with such force, it was a wonder he didn't wake my parents and Yusuke upstairs.

"Do you have so little regard for your own well-being that you can't even conceptualize that someone would care if you died?" he said, scorn oozing from every pore in his bronze skin. "Must you be told in plain language that you matter for you to believe it? That's pathetic. It's you who doesn't value your life, not me, not Kurama, not anyone." He bared his teeth, but not in anything close to a smile. "So go ahead. Make jokes. Get yourself killed. I won't care if you can't be bothered to do the same."

All I could say in reply was, "Well, fuck."

Because where the hell had that rant come from? It was like he was attacking me out of nowhere—or maybe it wasn't out of nowhere at all. Maybe I was just pushing for the wrong things. I'd been fishing for him to tell me he'd been worried, truth be told. Asking if he cared, telling him it was OK to care... what I wanted were words, but Hiei wasn't that kind of person. He was a demon oriented toward Acts of Service, most likely, not Words of Affirmation (not that he knew what a Love Language was, but still). But on that note, the fact that he was still standing here even though my jokes rubbed him the wrong way... that was something. I couldn't drag words out of him, but his continued presence was proof enough he gave a shit about me.

Kurama, on the other hand...

"Look… maybe you can get away with not being all mushy with me, Hiei, but Kurama is typically a talker. It's weird that he's gone so silent now." I turned back to the meal I'd been cooking. "I don't need him to write me a sonnet or whatever. It's just that he hasn't come to visit since that first day in the hospital—not once. He hasn't called, either. He ignores me at school, and when we interact, he holds me at arm's length. And I get that actions speak louder than words, but he hasn't given me either."

"And either would make you feel happy." (This wasn't a question.)

"Even a scrap would make me happy." I heaved a sigh at the admission, because while it was true I needed to work on my confidence and have faith in my friends, I was big enough to admit I craved their validation. "It's nice to know that your friends care. I know you care because you're here."

Eyes bored into the back of my head like drill bits. "But you'd still like to hear the words, I'm guessing."

I fidgeted, feeling silly. "Well… yeah. I would, actually."

A low chuckle cut the air. "Heh. Fine. I'll spare you this much: I'm glad you're not dead, Meigo." His lips curled when I glanced his way in surprise. "Someone needs to make me ramen, and you're the only one who ever gets it right."

"Plus you know I won't poison you," I cheerfully reminded him, and to my delight, Hiei threw back his head and laughed (but only once, a sharp bark of mirth like the kick of a gun). "Never underestimate the value of a chef who doesn't want you dead."

Hiei seemed satisfied by our exchange, little though I'd grasped what he wanted to take away from it. He ate the meal I prepared in large bites, barely looking at me as I watched him devour my handiwork from a spot on a stool across the kitchen island from him. Eventually he met my stare and sighed into his bowl of noodles.

"I take it you're still worried about Kurama," he said.

I pillowed my cheek on my hand with a grunt. "How'd you guess?"

"Botan told me you asked Yusuke about him."

"... that was only, like, an hour or two ago." My cheek came off my hand. "When did you see her?"

"I encountered her on her way home." He blazed past this information without pause. "You tried to be inconspicuous when you asked about Kurama, but she's far too clever for you to fool. She knew you were fishing."

"Oh." For Hiei to bring Botan up of his own volition, for him to seek her out tonight, and for him to call her clever... I shifted uneasily in my chair. "Say, Hiei?"

"What?"

"You and Botan. Y'all still training together?"

Hiei scowled. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just curious."

He gave me a long, measured look. I tried not to fiddle with my pajama sleeves. Eventually he decided not to bite my head off, instead taking a large mouthful of food.

"Yes, we're still training," he said with his mouth full. "She isn't as woefully pathetic at using her Jagan as she used to be, but she still has a long way to go before she's even close to competent."

"But… she's a good student?" I ventured when he did not continue.

He huffed. "Only when she isn't speaking incessantly and demanding I do the same." He looked me over as if seeing me for the first time. "The two of you are much alike. She, too, needs me to tell her when she's done something right."

"It's called positive reinforcement and it's a well-regarded part of effective teaching, Hiei."

"It's a useless practice, is what it is." His teeth gnashed, and not only because of the food he'd chomped into. "You should take refuge in the knowledge of your success and be done with it, not demand praise to validate what your eyes can already see."

"Y'know, Hiei," I said, smile growing bit by bit across my face. "Out of everyone in our social circle, I always thought I was the closest to you, and maybe Kurama, too. But it feels like you and Botan are looking pretty—"

"She is my student," he interjected with a sharp glare. "Do not presume closeness where none exists."

"... uh-huh. Sure."

I didn't tease him any further on the matter. It was tough to say what he was thinking, close to him though I'd become over the months. Hiei was famously guarded with his thoughts and opinions, but something in how he talked about Botan nagged at me. The way he'd observed that I needed to hear out loud he cared… he outright admitted that was Botan's influence, and he had told me what I needed to hear once he figure out what that something was. Botan was really rubbing off on him, it seemed. No wonder Yusuke felt threatened. I'd long suspected Yusuke had a crush on Botan, but… yikes on bikes, throwing Hiei into the mix was a disaster in the making. Didn't help that I had no clue how Hiei felt about Botan beyond his thoughts regarding her quality as a student.

Honestly, though? This was the last goddamn thing I wanted to deal with. I'd felt nostalgic for simple, high school drama earlier that day when I saw the Billboard Faces poster, sure, but I wasn't a total masochist. If this an actual, honest-to-god love triangle was brewing, I wanted fuck all to do with it.

"Anyway." I resettled myself on my stool, uneasy. "So, Hiei—"

He looked up from his food with a roll of his eyes. "You're going to ask about Kurama again."

"J'accuse. Stop reading my mind."

"I wasn't reading anything. You're just predictable."

"Rude!" I bristled as he laughed at me expense. "I was gonna ask if Kurama said anything to you when I was sick. Anything out of the ordinary?"

"He said many things," Hiei replied like the cryptic asshole he most certainly was. "If you seek proof he cares for you, Meigo, you need only remember the night you almost vanished."

I blinked at him, mystified. "When I was kidnapped on New Year's?"

"When else?" Hiei retorted. "You vanished from the world as if you had never been, fading from the world like a memory forgotten. We went to great lengths to find you, even if we weren't successful, and Kurama coordinated them all. I've rarely seen the fox so worried. He cared then, didn't he?"

"Yes," I replied, throat thick. "You all did."

"Exactly." Hiei looked satisfied. "Why would he care then but not now?" He glared when I opened my mouth to talk. "That question was rhetorical."

Only I wasn't so sure it was rhetorical at all. Kurama (and everyone else) had rightfully flipped shit when Itsuki kidnapped me, and all of our interactions since had validated the idea that Kurama cared for me quite deeply. In fact, just before I'd gotten sick, we'd shared what was perhaps the most intimate conversation of our relationship in the greenhouse at school. Kurama had asked about "us" that day, insinuating emotions and intentions we'd long left to lie dormant and unspoken. He'd alluded to being together, talking about our adorable, will-they-won't-they back and forth—"And what would be so bad about giving in to that?" he'd said. And true, I hadn't felt worthy enough to accept those feelings at the time, and truer still, I didn't know if those feelings were even Real on his part… but I'd gotten sick so soon after that, and then he pulled away. He went from overt flirtation and longing looks and tender embraces to acting like I wasn't even in the room. What made him go from a near-confession to that on a dime? No, I thought. Hiei's question wasn't actually rhetorical at all.

My chest felt tight. With unsteady hands I pulled at my collar, which felt like it had shrunk a size somehow.

"I don't know what would make him stop caring so abruptly," I said. "But something is clearly bothering him now, and it wasn't bothering him back when Itsuki took me on an unwilling trip to another dimension."

Hiei shrugged, completely unmoved. "So ask Kurama about it directly," he said, as if it were really that easy.

"Wow, Hiei. You, advocating for open and honest communication?" I said, feigning amazement. "I don't know whether to be shocked or impressed."

"Neither. I'm being entirely self-serving."

"Oh?"

"If you ask Kurama about it," he said with a slow, sadistic smile, "maybe you'll stop pestering me."

"Touché." I put my head down on the kitchen island. "Ugh. Why can't you just tell me what he said when I got sick?"

He shrugged again. "Not my place."

His choice of words had my eyes narrowing. "But he did say something."

"That's for him to tell you, not me," he said, and with a grunt he tucked back into his food. He would speak no more on the subject.

Still. The way he'd dodged the question, the way he pushed me at Kurama—it added up to Hiei knowing something but not saying it. And that meant there was something to know, and that meant Hiei was right. If I wanted to get to the bottom of this, I needed to talk to Kurama.

The only question now was what the heck he'd even say.


The next morning, Kaito showed up at my front door with a curt nod and an even sharper grunt of, "Yukimura. We need to talk."

I knew better than to argue when he was like this. I recognized the intense look in his eyes, because he wore it every time he went on a particularly impassioned rant about linguistics. He was a boy a possessed with single-minded purpose, and interrupting would only agitate him. Without speaking I followed him away from home, beating a quick path down the sidewalk. When we neared the school, maybe only a block or two away, I started to apologize for not calling him the night before, but Kaito just shook his head and raised a hand.

"Doesn't matter. I have news." He looked me over with a frown. "You look terrible."

I sputtered, passing a hand through my hair reflexively. "Gee, thanks!"

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked. "The bags under your eyes are, in terms of your overall complexion, absolutely ruinous."

I tried not to sigh. "Yusuke came over and stayed till late, and then Hiei showed up—"

"Hiei?"

"Demon friend."

"Demon friend," Kaito repeated, voice hollowing. "I see."

"I cook him dinner most nights," I said, as if that was any kind of acceptable explanation. "He stayed late, and then…"

The words died. I didn't know any terms accurate enough to describe the dream I'd had after Hiei departed the night before. The dream involved something at the end of a long, dark corridor, hulking and shadowy, slinking past my hiding spot in the shadows of some random piece of furniture. It had been looking for me; couldn't explain how I knew that, only that I knew it without question, much the way I knew that if it caught me, there would be hell to pay. Somehow I'd managed to evade the thing, ducking into rooms and climbing through ducts, before I managed to wake up at the sound of my alarm clock. I'd tried to lucid dream my way out, of course—but for some inexplicable reason, I hadn't been able to take control. In a panic I'd run my dream self deeper into the landscape of my nightmare to find refuge from the horrible beast dogging my steps, but that had been all I could do to remain out of its dark grasp. Not sure if it meant anything or was just a nightmare, but it had been a disturbing experience just the same, and I woke up feeling like I'd barely slept at all.

The beast felt familiar, somehow. I suspected I knew why, but I wasn't eager to chase that hunch down its logical path to a conclusion. Too much else on my plate right now.

"Anyway," I said, shaking my head. "What were we talking about?"

If my long pause struck Kaito as strange, he didn't say so. "The two people I've been speaking to online about their Territories have agreed to accompany us to Genkai's temple this weekend."

"Wow, already?"

"I am quite persuasive." Kaito shoved his glasses up his nose with a prod of one proud fingertip. "And given we were communicating via writing, my prodigious command of rhetoric enabled me to—"

"Yes, yes, you 'word good', we get it." Yet even my impatience with his ego couldn't stop me from adding, "But seriously, wow. That was fast. Great job."

"Hmmph." Another glasses-prod, this one sharper than the first. "Not fast enough for my liking, to be honest. We leave for Genkai's tomorrow, after all."

"Ha ha, yeah, that's—" I blanched. "Oh, shit."

Kaito's bushy brows shot up. "You forgot? Visiting her was your idea!"

"Yeah, but the days all blur together and time has no meaning when my schedule gets disrupted!" I whined. "Fuck. Tomorrow, huh? We leave after school?"

"I have already booked the necessary transportation for all accompanying parties. We leave tomorrow at 4 PM."

"Right, right, OK, I'll be there," I hastily assured him. Ugh, how embarrassing. I'd told him to arrange transport, so this was all above board, but still. Felt like it was all happening fast, and now we had two new faces coming with us. Forcing my brain to catch up felt like a monumental feat; guess I really was tired. "So… everything's in order, then."

"Not quite." He pinned me with a grave look. "You have yet to break the news of the trip to your parents."

I winced. "Oh. Right. That."

"My parents do not care about my whereabouts. Amanuma's travel too much to notice his absence. I have been assured that our new associates have engineered appropriate alibis to explain their sabbaticals from their respective lives." I got the sense Kaito had rehearsed this speech, given how little he hesitated, intending to tell me everything last night. "You, however, have loving parents who will wonder where you've gone, and the best lies need the foundation of time to seem plausible."

"I know that all too well," I muttered.

"It would have been far preferable if you had spoken to me last night to arrange your excuse," he said with disapproval most evident. "I could have helped somehow."

"Can't you just include me in your plans?" I said, giving him my best puppy-eyes.

But he shook his head. "No. It is best we concoct separate excuses. If your parents call mine to investigate our whereabouts, we will both be discovered. With separate alibis, we are each secure."

"What was your excuse?"

"A last-minute literary conference."

"Makes sense for you." Really, it suited him to a T. "But what the heck am I supposed to tell them?"

"No idea." A burst of speed had him moving down the sidewalk, away from me without mercy. "Best of luck in your endeavors."

"Pitiless!" I shouted, scrambling to catch up.

Kaito didn't look even a little sorry. "I did the bulk of the heavy lifting in this scenario, Yukimura. It's your turn to contribute to the cause."

"What, and me not cluing you in to demons, Spirit World, and my own damn reincarnation doesn't count for something?" I shot back.

A long pause followed this statement before Kaito grudgingly intoned: "I will conceded you have contributed to the acquisition of information. But you need to move quickly if you do not want your parents to pry."

"Honestly," I said, looking ahead of us down the road, "it's not my parents I'm worried about."

As if summoned by the mere thought of him, a crimson spark flashed up ahead of us near the gates of Meiou High. Kurama's hair looked the reddest I'd ever seen it as the late spring sun coaxed forth ruddy highlights from otherwise dark strands. It glittered in the light like he was the star of a freakin' shampoo commercial. A few girls stopped to look, whispering behind their hands, but he didn't acknowledge them as he walked with long, swift steps toward school. He moved with such lithe purpose and powerful dignity, I felt clumsy and feeble in comparison even inside Keiko's athletic body. Seeing him put a spike of anxiety into my gut, and not just because he'd been so cold toward me recently. If he started nosing around and asking questions about where I was going this weekend, I was absolutely screwed. No way could I fool Kurama—the brilliant, magnetic, clever demon that he was—for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Ah. Yes. Minamino." Kaito studied him from afar, watching as he disappeared past the gates; if Kurama spotted us in return, he gave no sign. "He does pose a certain challenge when it comes to maintaining secrecy. We will have to make evasive maneuvers to avoid an investigation on his part."

I guffawed. "Evasive maneuvers? What are you, an MI6 agent?"

"I may have speed-read a selection of spy novels this week in preparation for our covert operations."

"Overachiever." I eyed Kaito askance. "Minamino hasn't been treating you weirdly since you got back, has he?"

"Not at all," he said at once. "My performance of normalcy has been flawless."

"So he doesn't suspect you have powers or anything, right?"

"I have given him absolutely no reason to do so."

"Same." His words gave me comfort, cold though it might be. "But he's…"

"If you are referring to the way he's been treating you since our return, I noticed, but I can provide you no insights as to what might be motivating his behavior."

Kaito spoke with matter-of-fact dispassion, utterly detached from the emotional connection I had to the whole ordeal. Very on-brand for the guy. Still, the fact that he'd noticed was... well, I couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing, really. At least it confirmed what I already knew and assured me I wasn't imagining Kurama's behavior. Kaito wasn't the type to read into social interactions; what he saw was what he knew, and hearing his measured opinion had a welcome tempering effect on my chronic over-thinking.

"But you can see he's being weird as hell, right?" I said, needing further affirmation.

He nodded once, black curls bouncing. "Undoubtedly. He is quite attuned to you most days, but now he seems content to ignore your presence." Thin lips pursed. "When you are acknowledged, Minamino treats you as he treats everyone else in class—with polite distance, most notably." He huffed, a snort of dismissal through the nose. "Quite the departure from the former tenor of your relationship, which I, of course, possessed a uniquely intimate quality that set your association apart from his other relationships with our peers."

"I see." Leave it to him to reduce the situation to such bald terms. "I'm glad I'm not imagining things, at least."

"You are not." He changed the subject on a dime, sparing no time for pleasantries. "Obviously he is intelligent. I would expect no less from my academic rival. Alas, this means he will be quick to discover our operations if we are not careful. I would tell you take advantage of the distance he's placed between you, but we cannot afford to pull away from him and arouse his suspicion. Any odd moves on our part have the potential to garner his scrutiny. We must act as inconspicuously as possible and perform normalcy in the days to come."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "Right. Pretend to be normal. Got it."

Kaito walked off without waiting to see if I'd follow him through the gates. "Don't forget to find your alibi for this weekend's trip."

"Will do. And don't you forget that envelope I gave you the other night, by the way," I said, jogging to reach his side. "It'll be important soon."

He patted his jacket pocket. "I keep it on my person at all times." Amusement curled the corner of his mouth. "And do at least try to avoid saying anything incriminating to Minamino before our trip. I'm sure this Genkai character won't be pleased if we're discovered so early into our endeavors."

"Trust me. Disappointing her is the last thing on my list." I shivered, rubbing at my arms. "She's scary."

"So you say." Kaito turned in another direction to head elsewhere on the school grounds. "Godspeed, Yukimura. See you in class."

Operating on autopilot in the ganken, I took off my shoes and stowed them in my locker. I didn't enjoy the thought of lying to my parents so soon after my brush with death. I'd lied to them before (out of necessity, I liked to think) but doing so when they were already feeling protective of me felt... not great. Plus it would be just plain hard to convince them to let me out of their sights for an entire weekend when I had literally been in the hospital less than a day before. Still, what choice did I have short of telling them all about the supernatural? They'd just get even more worried if I told them about demons and looming threats of the apocalypse. Keeping them in the dark felt safer. Safer for them, specifically. Definitely not safer for me, fearing rejection if they ever figured out who I really was...

No. Don't think about that. Lying was a necessity in this case. I didn't like it, but tough titty; it had to be done. I just couldn't tell them about my Territory and Genkai. And I couldn't rely on Yusuke to cover for me like I would normally, given I also couldn't tell him about my trip... Ugh. This was giving me a headache. Lies, lies and more lies, so soon after I'd sworn to stop telling them entirely...

A locker opened a few meters off, and Amagi's soft voice murmured, "Hello, Keiko."

Junko appeared on my other side, leaning against the lockers with a yawn. "Morning."

"Hi, Junko. Hi, Amagi," I grumbled—and then I did a double-take. "Junko! Amagi!"

Junko (who had been examining her manicure) looked at me with a mildly freaked out frown. "Uh. Yes?"

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to do me a favor, would you?"

Junko, who apparently had something of a Bad Girl streak, was absolutely down to do me a favor and be my cover for the entire weekend. I'd kind of suspected it given her defiance of the school's dress code as she pursued her borderline ganguro aesthetic, bleached hair and long nails and cute makeup a dead giveaway that she probably didn't spend her weekends dressed in a stuffy school uniform. She absolutely loved the hastily-concocted idea of covering for me so I could get some "alone time" after being stuck in the hospital with my parents. And it was true I that needed time alone, even if that's not why I was leaving for the weekend.

"Keiko, I got your back," she said with a flip of her glossy hair. "Don't even tell me what you're actually doing over the weekend when you get your alone time. It's more fun that way."

"Really?" I asked, hardly daring to believe her,

"Yeah, really!" she said, grinning like I'd just invited her on an all-expenses-paid vacation. "We'll say you're with me doing a study boot camp to catch you up on what you missed. My parents are out of town, so there's no chance they'll answer the phone, either."

"Junko, you are perfect, you know that?"

"I know," she said, giggling. "And Amagi, you can come, too. We can have an actual fun weekend and study together so we can give Keiko's parents details if we need to." She stuck her tongue out at Amagi. "And no one will doubt anything if you're there!"

But Amagi appeared far less enthusiastic about the whole scenario than did the rebellious Junko. "I don't know…" she hedged. "I wouldn't want to get Keiko in trouble."

"Oh, come on," Junko said brightly. "It'll be awesome!"

Amagi started to talk, but just then a teacher called for Junko through the crowd of students milling about the ganken. They were staring at Junko's hair with a frown; no doubt she was about to receive a lecture about the dress code she so routinely shirked.

"Shit, gotta go." Junko waved over her shoulder as she sauntered off. "We'll talk more later, but if anyone asks, Keiko's coming to my place after school tomorrow!"

"Thank you, Junko!" I called after her—and then I turned to Amagi and bowed. "Amagi, I'm sorry to rope you into this. If you're uncomfortable, I can tell Junko to—"

"Where are you really going, Keiko?"

Dark eyes held worry and soft concern. Her lips set in the smallest of frowns, voice whispering like dry leaves in a winter wind. A twist of guilt turned my stomach to knotted roots and tangled branches. I'd been so worried about Kurama figuring out I was up to something, I'd completely forgotten Amagi was also sharp as hell, not to mention clued into the supernatural already. Of course she'd pick up on something strange afoot.

But while Amagi had been there for me so many times, skipping school and telling lies wasn't really her style. She could take risks (I'd never forget the way she let a demonic insect bite her on purpose to catch the thing), but she wasn't a rule-breaker at her core. Asking her to lie on my behalf when she wasn't comfortable wasn't right, and it wasn't right to lie to her, either. Of course, I'd sworn to Genkai I wouldn't tell anyone about my Territory, but it wasn't like I could keep Amagi in the dark. Especially not when she looked at me with such sincerity and concern, spilled-ink eyes lovely and intent on mine as she waited for me to speak.

Eventually, and quite slowly, I asked her, "You know the bug you showed me and Minamino?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

"It has something to do with that." And that was true, even if it wasn't the whole story. "It has everything to do with that, actually."

"Oh." The worry in her gaze abated. "Then I'm in."

I did another double-take, shocked. "Just like that?"

"I trust you." Nothing but firm faith occupied her expression, solid and unshakable—and entirely undeserved on my part. "I asked you to help with the bugs invading our world. If where you're going this weekend has something to do with exterminating them, covering for you is the least I can do to return that favor."

One good turn deserved another, in Amagi's eyes. She had no idea what I was keeping from her, the degree to which her trust was unfounded... but in spite of my insecurity, I was grateful for her support just the same. We were both doing our best to protect the place we called home—in her case, Mushiyori City, and in mine, the entire canon of Yu Yu Hakusho.


During our daily free period, my teacher summoned me to the teacher's workroom to go over some material I'd missed—general makeup work, a check-in to ensure I understood everything I'd been forced to self-study while recovering at home and in the hospital. It was important I not fall behind, she told me; I was one of their best students, even if my record was woefully lacking in extracurricular activities (the irony of that statement burned). The material itself wasn't an issue, of course. Keiko's sharp mind absorbed and dissected math and chemistry the way my old brain never could, the English lessons were a piece of cake thanks to my past life, and the Japanese history was interesting as hell, which made absorption of the material a breeze. I didn't resent being made to review it again, however. I wanted to get a good foundation on these lessons and work a little ahead if I could. Something told me Genkai would put me through my paces, and I probably wouldn't have much time for studying while at her temple in the mountains.

My teacher was one of the nicer ones at school, all smiles and gentle corrections when I (rarely) got something wrong. We were reviewing my weakest subject, chemistry, at her table near the windows, heads hunched over the textbook as she walked me through the formula the other students had learned in class. I was pretty sure I understood it thanks to Keiko-Brain, but I'd been hopeless at chemistry in my old life, and that feeling of inferiority dogged me into this one. Luckily my teacher was more than happy to go over everything in detail.

"So when it comes to empirical formulas, the order—" A door slid open behind me; my teacher glanced up and smiled. "Ah, Minamino. There you are."

I froze, hesitating before chancing a look over my shoulder. Kurama stood with one hand on the door, the other in his pocket; the second our eyes met, he looked away and at our teacher. He stood casually, with feet spread and chin inclined, but something in the set of his slim shoulders spoke of the barest hint of tension.

A polite smile settled across his mouth. It did not touch his eyes.

"Sensei. " He dipped a shallow bow. "I understand I needed to take home some paperwork?"

She reached under her desk and opened a drawer. "Yes, yes, let me—oh." Grimacing, she took a paper from the drawer and stood. "Terribly sorry, but I need to make a copy of this."

Kurama nodded. "Of course."

She gave him a nod of apology. On her way toward the door she said, "Yukimura, Minamino here is quite good at this subject. Perhaps he can show you the trick to this formula."

"Yes, sensei," I replied, head bent toward my lap—and then she left the room to go find a copy machine, leaving Kurama and I alone.

Well. Not entirely alone. A few other teachers sat at their desks grading papers and prepping class material. The shuffle of papers and the scratch of pens provided a quiet backdrop to the time Kurama spent looking at the papers on my desk and I spent looking at him out of the corner of my eye. Nerves brought an ache to my throat; he didn't appear bothered, however. He just wore the faintest of mild, placid smiles as he at last took our teacher's empty seat and pulled the textbook into place before him.

"Hello, Kei," he said, voice as pleasant as always. "Chemistry today?"

"Yes," I said.

He tapped the paper with a fingertip. "So this problem—"

Kurama walked me through it with a level of acuity that would normally leave me reflecting on his incredible intelligence and patience. But owing both to the fact that I'd already figured out this problem and that I was distracted by his nonchalance, I barely heard a word out of his mouth. I was too focused on his tone and delivery to listen to him describe ions and molecules. He spoke with the sort of mild detachment and gentility he wore when dealing with the teachers he had no opinion of—not the ones he hated, but the ones he felt nothing for. And somehow that perfect, neutral congeniality felt even worse than his ire.

I waited for him to reach the end of the problem before tapping my pencil against the desk, trying not to bounce my knee in agitation. "So… sorry if this is awkward, but can I ask you something?"

"About the material?" he replied without looking at me. "Of course."

"No. I mean…" A deep breath to steady my nerves. "Are we OK?"

"Of course," he said without a moment's hesitation—but his lack of reaction was a reaction in and of itself.

A frown pulled the edge of my mouth down like a hook. "Really?" I said, not buying it. "Because I haven't heard much from you recently."

"I assumed you'd want space to decompress whilst convalescing." He smiled at the chemistry book, words breezy with unconcern. "Did I assume incorrectly?"

"I mean, not entirely. But—"

"There we are, then," he said with an air of finality, and he began to describe the next chemistry problem.

His answer was entirely unsatisfactory, of course. He said nothing was wrong, but he hadn't looked at me once. I knew Kurama's polite mask when I saw it; only rarely had it been directed my way. I waited with mounting impatience for him to conclude his description of the chemistry problem before speaking.

"I didn't know I'd get sick, for what that's worth," I grumbled, low enough for the teachers nearby not to hear—and at last Kurama's eyes slid toward me, though he didn't turn his head my way. And better still, he was looking at me with something other than his infuriatingly polite, distant mask... but what exactly the subtle lines between his brows indicated, I was at a loss to say. Damn fox knew how to remain unreadable at the most inconvenient times.

"Really," I said, because perhaps his silence spoke of disbelief. "I didn't know. I didn't just leave it out. It wasn't a secret I was keeping—"

To my surprise, Kurama laughed. Just a chuckle, but still. He laughed under his breath and shook his head, saying, "I am aware."

And that was honestly shocking. "Wait, you are?"

"If you knew you were about to face a deathly illness, even one Yukimura Keiko were fated to survive, you would no doubt consider the possibility of your own demise," he explained, voice a velvet murmur in the teachers' quite workroom. Brilliant green eyes traveled back to the textbook on the desk. "Enough has gone against canon for your death to be on the table. If that were the case, you would have been sure to say a maudlin goodbye to each of us before the appointed time in the event that you did not survive." A shrug, so small I almost missed it. "But you did not. Ipso facto…"

"Oh." His clinical breakdown of my neuroses had me squirming with discomfort. "That… makes sense for me, I guess."

"You are nothing if not consistent in character," he remarked—but his tone remained so bland, I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment.

So, hoping to entice him to banter, I replied: "Or perhaps you just know me really well."

But Kurama didn't reply. He didn't laugh and make a joke about wanting to get to know me even better than that, or make some flirtatious remark about spending more time with me to assure himself he knew me completely. He didn't say a damn word. He just looked over the textbook lying open between us without speaking, his face unreadable. Frankly, the complicated chemistry problems made more sense than the dull shine shadowing his bright eyes. The silence was a clear dismissal, a shutting down of familiarity that stung like a fresh cut. And what the hell was I supposed to do now? Was I supposed to push, to keep prodding him into talking with me? It certainly didn't look like he wanted to talk. His hands lay clenched atop his knees, green gaze fixed on the door as if anticipating his freedom from my presence.

Like he'd rather be anywhere but beside me.

"That dinner with your mom still happening?"

That got a reaction out of him. I hadn't planned to say anything, but the words slipped free unbidden. To the handsome planes of Kurama's face they summoned a tight smile. This one, too, did not reach his eyes.

"Of course," was all he said.

It wasn't enough. "Still on for next Friday, then?" I pressed.

"Yes." His lips barely moved as he spoke. "My mother is looking forward to seeing you there."

"Your mother, huh?" The significance of his wording was not lost on me. "Is that right."

"She invited you, didn't she?" he said, doubling down on his mom's wishes.

"Yes. She did." Throwing caution to the wind, I crossed my arms and flatly stated, "The real question is if you want me there."

Kurama stilled the way he did when he wasn't certain of something and didn't want to telegraph his emotions. His expression remained as inscrutable as ever. For once I felt like I'd managed to go on the offensive. Without flinching I stared at him, trying to project challenge in the incline of my head and the set of my jaw, putting him on notice that his behavior was not only obvious, but also the subject of much scrutiny on my part. And for a second I think the tactic almost worked. He began to speak, lips parting around a syllable that sounded like it might become my name, perhaps the prelude to an assurance that yes, of course he wanted me at that dinner, of course he wanted me there with him—

But then he stopped. Took a deep breath. Smiled with the disarming, innocent smile I knew meant nothing at all, because it was the one he reserved almost exclusively for teachers and fan-girls he didn't give a flying fuck about.

It was the one smile he'd never used on me, but now I bore the brunt of its entire, devastating weight.

"Why, of course I want you there," he said with maddeningly courteous delivery. "Don't be silly."

Despite his hollow smile, his kind words illuminated a flicker of hope in my chest. So he wanted me there after all. He wanted me with him, beside him—

"Anything to make my mother happy," he said.

My hopeful bubble burst.

Kurama bent over the papers to describe the next chemistry problem.

Our eyes did not meet again.


NOTES

Back when I was updating regularly, I said I would start capping chapters at 10k words to guard myself against burnout. This chapter was nearing 15k and wasn't finished (it needed many, many more words), so I cut it in half to honor that promise. Now it's about 9k words long. But because the cut half of this chapter is almost done, I will also be updating NEXT WEEKEND as well since I don't have to prep much. You'll get another update in 7 days. Huzzah!

TBH, I liked the ending of the uncut chapter way better than this, but a promise is a promise, and one of the other reasons I needed break from LC was because of burnout. Let's not make the mistake of overtaxing myself again. I'd prefer not to go on hiatus again when we're so close to the end.

I'm enjoying your theories as to why Kurama is treating NQK so oddly. One person has guessed his reasons, which is nice, because it means I've set things up mostly properly. Once we get to the reveal, I think it'll all make sense. I'm kind of glad that their relationship is on the rocks, honestly. They were far overdue for some drama!

I anticipated people would leave the story once I came out as nonbinary. A number of people retracted their favs/follows when I updated and announced my transition, so I think I was right. I want to personally thank each and every person who stayed (especially those who left a comment), from the bottom of my heart, for their support and kind words. You really do mean the world to me, and your continued presence here gives me so much hope and joy. Thank you, deeply and sincerely: xenocanaan, Convoluted Compassion, PP, MissIdeophobia, cezarina, C S Stars, SandyBandy, vodka-and-tea, ladyofchaos, Mia, Melissa Fairy, Writer-Supreme, ewokling, Forthwith16, Sarah, MyMidnightShadow, EdenMae, TasukiLover05, Anya Kristen, VSuperOld, tammywammy9 and a Guest.