The ride back to Miki's apartment was one of silence. Kaito insisted on remaining at the manor to discuss my new role with Mr. Hara. Miki fidgeted with her phone in the car and I quickly admonished her about the dangers of texting and driving. She grinned, "Can't I text my brother? I'm sure he's trying to find a way to get you out of this mess. Hopefully, you can stay at our house."
Oh, how I wish that were possible. There was the high chance that I'd cross paths with Kuwabara and that was a talk I didn't want to have. And with his sixth sense….
If they find out you're a zombie. They will destroy you.
The words echoed again and again in the back of my consciousness. Kuwabara was a breathing lie detector and if he asked, what could I say.
"Miki," another horrible realization sprang to mind. "Kuwabara saw me without my glamour."
"Aw, dammit." Miki pursed her lips. "Tell 'im. You're tryin' styles out."
"That's not going to work. He'll know I'm lying." I anxiously spoke. What would he say about the glamour, when the bleached version was already out of the bag?
"Well, you're goin' to have to tell him you're a supe. But you know, since he's friends with you…" She tapped her sharp nails on the steering wheel. "Maybe you can convince him to not tell the others."
I burrowed into the bench and pressed my face against the cool glass of the window. And when we pulled into the small parking lot of the apartment complex, we left the vehicle silently and went to bed. Neither of us knew what to say to lighten the mood.
I packed simply with a few tees, button ups, jeans, black pants, and some loose fitted clothes for the evenings. Half the suitcase was occupied with a sealed bag of pork jerky to stave off my appetite. I packed Miki's jacket last minute, I couldn't bear to part with it. Lastly, I wore a black trench coat over my current clothes and gun holster. If they were expecting an investigator than I might as well assume the role. I exited the room with my suitcase and found Miki in our living room biting one of her pointed nails.
"This doesn't feel right." She murmured. "If they're worried about you exposin' us, then why are they sendin' you off to danger. Makes no sense."
"I suspect Charles may know why." I answered. The way his eyes were lit like twin stars flashed in my mind. He definitely knew something.
"This guy didn't even mention who's pickin' you up. What if it's the weird cloaky guy?" She ran her fingers through her hair. "I'd never let you go off with a guy like that."
"Miki, I'm sure they'll send someone…adequate. Just relax." I grasped her shoulders and held her so she was face to face with me. "I'll be back soon enough. And remember, cell phones exist. You can always call me, just no supe talk."
Miki pulled me into her chest and her arms wrapped around me tightly. "Don't let any of 'em demons bully you. If they do, I'm runnin' up there."
"Miki-" The doorbell rattled and Miki and I both looked at the door.
"They're here already." I was pleasantly surprised they were actually punctual.
"Well, allow me." Miki feigned the pose of a servant and curtsied low before she skipped to the door and looked through the peephole. "Hellooooooo, stranger." He grinned back at me before wiggling her brows. It seems she liked what she saw on the other side.
I became exasperated and did a last check on my beanie as she opened the door. Latched. Secured. This beanie is not going anywhere.
Miki opened the door just a sliver and playfully spoke out the opening, "And who might you be?"
"Hello, my name is Kurama. You must be Miki Hara." His voice was a mix of halcyon and clear. At Miki's antics, he emitted a low chuckle.
"Fine, you pass. At least, it's not Cloakman." She crossed her arms and allowed the door to sway open revealing a crown of deep garnet hair that reflected tones of crimson. Her eyes followed him as he walked in and he inspected the minimal apartment. I could see why Miki was immediately fascinated by him. He was a tall, lithe man whose inquisitive viridian eyes seemed to flicker in excitement as they took in information. He also resembled a certain incubus from The Hollow.
"Cloakman. Ah, that would be my associate. I've never heard him described as such." His judicious eyes glanced down at Miki.
I noticed, he didn't mention any names. Kuwabara was hasty and mentioned one of the detective's names, Yusuke. However, Kurama would be careful. I had to be cautious about what I could divulge around him.
"Welcome, to our humble abode, Kurama." I spoke from the living room where I'd left my suitcase, but I could see him in the foyer from my location.
Hi eyes landed on me, and briefly he scrutinized my countenance. He had dissected my appearance in a millisecond before his calculative eyes turned upward and he broke into a warm smile.
"Ms. Nakajima," He nodded towards me, "a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Just 'Nakajima'. Same to you." I turned away and double checked with a brief self-pat down to account for cellphone, wallet, gun, and pork jerky. "So, where to?"
"A usual spot we detectives gather." He gave a vague answer.
"Very well." I gave him a side glance while Miki was distracting him. I plucked my suitcase from the ground and joined them in the foyer.
"Shall we?" Kurama opened the door.
I kissed Miki on the cheek. "Kick ass," she whispered into my ear and smooched me on the cheek. I smirked at her.
"See you soon, Miki." I gave her one last hug for the road.
Kurama's vehicle of choice was a dark green Honda civic. It seemed to suit him and clash at the same time. It wasn't luxurious, but it was unassuming. It was relatively compact compared to the elongated Cadillac and I felt suffocated in such a small space with a stranger.
We remained in total silence for two hours into the journey, without any music, I might add. Many people become uncomfortable in silence and fidget with the radio, anything to fill the static. But not Kurama. I mused that maybe we were playing a silent game of who would relent and reach for the radio until….
"Do you mind, if I play music?" Kurama spoke, but there was an edge of irritation.
"You broke first." I murmured.
His brow rose slightly, "Have you…been silent this entire time just to ascertain if I'd speak to you?"
"Not quite." And, I glanced down at the radio.
He followed my gaze, "You were waiting to see who would turn on the radio."
"Uh-huh." I turned my gaze back to the road.
"Why?" He asked.
"To pass the time." I replied, but he didn't look convinced by my answer.
"I believe, Ms. Nakajima, that you take comfort…in mind games." He said accusingly, but the corners of his mouth turned upward into a thin smile.
"No, I'm just observant. I think mind games are your forte." His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"What gives you that idea?" Kurama's viridian orbs glinted fiercely.
I knew that he worked as a detective for a ruler that had illegitimate claims to human world and wanted to use me as an all-access pass to supernatural affairs. As a detective, interrogation was one of many tools in the repertoire where mind games ran rampant. However, it wasn't that. It was the way he had analyzed me from the foyer, then plastered on a fake smile afterwards. But, I wasn't going to tell him that. He asked an open ended question and he probably expected me to pull a Charles and explain my deductions. Instead, I said….
"You're trying to get me monologue-ing. Sly bastard." I blithely chided. My view through the window of buildings passing by dwindled and trees with the occasional fruit stand took their place. Where the hell was he taking me?
"It certainly works on mathematicians, but I doubt you hold such titles." His fingers slightly relaxed on the steering wheel and he leaned back into the leather driver's seat. As he shifted, a tuft of hair resting on his shoulder slid forward and partially curtained the side of his face.
The back handed insult wasn't lost on me. He was trying to get a rise out of me, attempting to incite me to justify I had other merits. I wasn't a mathematician, by any means, but I graduated with a degree in biology studying animal behaviorism, phycology, and botany and how those studies interacted. He assumed that the insult would get me to demonstrate some sort of prowess and prove I wasn't an idiot. Well, sometimes I was an idiot, but I tried not to make a habit of it.
"Nope." I feigned ignorance instead.
"Is that so?" He spoke, almost wistfully.
Did he want to play mind games with me? The idea of intellectual rivalry was cliché. Was he actually one of those people that challenged highbrows just to beat them at their own games. I decided, yes, yes he was after he mentioned a mathematician. However, my short time with Neutrality taught me to remain objective and passive and I refused to verbally battle with Kurama the entirety of the trip. I remained silent.
We spent the next three hours driving quietly save for the contemporary '90s music filtered through the radio that punctuated the silence.
Kurama parked on a dirt road just beyond the painted lines that separated shrubbery and woodland from asphalt. When we exited the vehicle and walked further through thickets, it revealed a destroyed Shinto gate. The Torii was littered with rubble and yellow cautionary signs reading 'No Step' and illustrations of falling rocks representing the danger of mountainous terrain. It was probably to ward off any unsuspecting person that would idly decide to make the pilgrimage up the cracked stone steps trailing upwards.
Kurama leisurely began the climb up the rubble stairs with his hands buried in the pockets of his russet peacoat. I gripped my suitcase tightly and followed after him. Five hundred steps in he glanced down at me, several steps ahead, supposedly to see how I was fairing. I let a heavy breath escape my mouth and inhaled deeply through my nose as I continued up the steps and mimicked the occasional breath to slipping out. He looked pleased that I was struggling to carry my luggage up the steps and without faltering continued the trek along the winding steps.
And let me tell you, those three are fast. Not as fast as me, mind you. But not human fast, you know?
I wondered about Miki's encounter with the other three. Was he just as fast as the others? Or at least, fast enough to surpass what would be considered normal for humans. If so, he could have easily made the climb up the steeple of steps without having to wait for me. I doubted he would show me any of those abilities considering how taciturn I remained for most of the trip. He'd probably wait for me to show my hand before he revealed anything about himself.
After another ten minutes that seemed to stretch into an awkward eternity, we breached the top. I let a huff of air escape my lips. Unfortunately, I couldn't sweat. I no longer had the working glands to secrete sweat as a zombie, but it would've been a nice touch. Regrettably, I did not become conventionally tired when I used energy, instead my foul appetite flared up and I realized that I would need to eat soon to replenish my energy. The longer I went without food, the riskier the interactions I would have from here out would be. It would leave me wide open to mistakes when hunger and irrationality took over.
Previously, I was controlling my breaths to keep suspicion off me when Kurama observed me, but now they came in labored breathing to distract me from my famine. I had pork jerky in my pocket, but I couldn't uncover it and start bingeing. That would seem bizarre to the keen, observant eyes beside me.
"The steps are always laborious to newcomers." He watched me struggle with an expression of concern, but who knows if he was being disingenuous.
I waved him off, "I'm fine."
"You don't look well." He quickly turned and I followed him.
My eyes widened in surprise when I spied the dipping, convex pine-colored roofs that jutted outwards in a curve. It was divided into three sections: a left and right offshoot, and a massive intermediary that brought the two sides together. All of it was supported on the heads of crimson painted beams dividing the lengths of white walls that sat atop a wooden foundation. At it's very center, standing at the stop of a set of worn stairs leading to the temple, was a small, old woman.
She was mid-cigarette, eyeing us nonchalantly between puffs. She was a striking, fearsome petite thing to behold. Dull rose wispy strands framed wizened umber eyes and every time she took a puff her hands revealed sinewy definitions of muscle that disappeared under the white sleeve leading into her bright red martial arts uniform (did Koenma's people wear that?). I noticed because with every flex of her hand I was reminded of my hunger.
"Well, don't just stand there." She snapped. She dropped the cigarette to the ground and extinguished it under purple slip-ons.
She pivoted on her feet, pulled a sliding door aside, and stepped through. I ventured behind her and Kurama trailed a few steps behind me. Inside, wide expanses of tiled floor and tall columns formed the room. She veered right towards another set of beige sliding doors, but from the left I heard the muffled chattering of voices trickling from a closed door on the opposite side of the room. She strode through the doors and stopped at the third room on the right.
"You'll use this room, while you're here." She slid the door open for me to pass through. I obliged not wanting to irk her in any way. "The baths are directly across from your room, so you won't get lost." She uttered in a mocking air. And with that, she turned and walked away in the direction we had just came from. Kurama remained at the door leaning against the frame, but saying nothing.
I surveyed the room and found it almost completely bare. There was a rolled up futon in one corner with a bolster pillow resting above it. On the left side of the room, a simple wooden chest with latch broken off of it abutted the wall. I set my suitcase down on it and considered myself unpacked. I wasn't going to rummage through my artifacts with a sack of beef jerky in front of Kurama. He would definitely ask about it or notice it. I avoided giving any hints about my voracious proclivities.
There was a sliding door at the furthest wall and it gave way when I pushed it open. I stepped out and grasped the railings just beyond and breathed in a mixture of pine and maple. Looking out into the dusty bare grounds of the temple surrounded by trees almost calmed me, but then I heard it. Faint at first, but the dull thumping of a pulsing heart grew louder and pulled my focus away from the trees and I peeked at Kurama. It was coming from him.
His eyes remained rigid on me and I'm certain someone told him to stand watch, but at this moment I had to get away from him. I walked towards the other side of the room pausing in front of him.
"Five hours of driving and a set of stairs. I'll be right back." I pointed to the door leading to the baths. He seemed to understand and I was grateful he didn't follow me.
The bath was divided into three sections. The first area designated for changing had cabinets supported by wooden walls. A sliding door to the left had two cramped stalls in a tiny room where the toilets were housed. On the furthest wall, a door remained opened leading to an abandoned area. Aluminum shower heads lined one wall, and rectangular tiled baths rose from the right. They were cornered by wooden benches on each side.
Ba-dump.
I could still hear it through the sliding door. Privacy was ideal and I entered the small room with stalled toilets. I clasped the door shut behind me with a rudimentary clasp. I quickly burrowed my hands into my pocket and found the pork jerky nudged between my wallet and fabric.
I gnawed on the first portion of jerky and relished in the small amount of relief it provided. The hunger subsided slightly and I ate another and another until finally the sound of a broadcasted meal outside the bath faded. I flushed for anyone that may be listening and placed the jerky back in its place.
Sweet mercy. Never again. I realized that when I was among my usual company I was spoiled and access to nourishment never discontinued. Miki kept the fridge stocked with frozen meats and brains when she wanted to treat me and Charles practically shoved food in my direction. Here, I'd have to be more attentive to my habits.
On it like vomit.
I exited the bath and Kurama was in the hallway eyeing me expectantly, "The others are waiting in the left hall."
I nodded quietly and I dallied behind him as we crossed the wide expanse of the first room I saw to the other side. I became jittery and my neck prickled as I heard a familiar raucous voice pour out from the other side.
Kurama slid the door open and all babbling came to an abrupt halt. Several heads turned to me in varied looks of anticipation, disinterest, and two of shock.
"Nakajima?" Urameshi whispered. A friend of Kuwabara's that I was casually introduced to by way of arcade was sitting cross-legged on the tatami flooring. His incredulity turned into derision and he stood up and crossed his arms.
The gears clicked in my mind. Yusuke Urameshi. And all this time, I thought his first name was 'punk.' I joked inwardly, but my musings were short-lived as I found crushed mahogany eyes.
Kuwabara was propped against one of the walls beside an old analog TV and a SNES. His head was hung, but I could see the hurt look beneath the curly carrot fringe of this hair. He raised his head and his large hands balled into fists on the mat.
"Why did you run?" His fractured voice broke the silence and I heard the betrayal and disappointment in his tone.
Panic crept up my throat as I remembered the flurry of emotions that sent me crashing through the woods: Fear, rejection, cowardice, but honestly….
"I don't know." I whispered.
His eyes closed in defeat and he shook his head solemnly.
That was the wrong answer.