It was nearing midnight, and face stained with refuse and blood I became alert and collected again. After bingeing for an hour, my stomach was full to burst but the after effects of the frenzy were still present. The hunger was satisfied, but I had renewed energy with misplaced fervor and no outlet to vent to. My legs idly swung from the counter while I processed the events from the parlor.
While I mulled over the last of the trials, I could not fathom what prompted Kurama to sic his plants on me. To my knowledge, I didn't pose a significant threat when I was in meditation. Perhaps, it was a safety measure if I woke up and turned on them before the trial was over. In their self defense, both situational and literal, it was fair if not reasonable. It still sucked ass for me and my aching vertebrae.
Juices from viscera dribbled off my chin and I realized I was holding a bag of uncooked meat, drenched in various fluids, and dirty. My collar was stained and I knew that eventually if I didn't take care of it the various juices that had dripped off the package in my hands would stain my clothing. As my tattered coat sagged lower on my arms, I decided that they were unsalvageable anyways.
I slipped off the counter and pressed my hands along the door pushing it softly and peeking through the crack. Mr. Hara had left sometime into my gorge-fest: I assumed to clean up whatever happened in the parlor. His headache must have exponentially grown after the scuffle. Sometime after I regained composure, Grelda walked in with suture clips. I had felt the dull sensation of tugging as she pried and haphazardly mended my back, but feeding took priority and after the pain dulled away all that was left was the numbness that came with dead nerves.
Looking to either side of the hall and finding no one, I ventured into the hallway.
Instead of the ornate walls, there was a plain white decor-less expanse. The architecture matched that of your basic Japanese complex and realization dawned on me. The explosion must have damaged the glamour over the house. What was traditional faux Victorian was now drab white and worn wooden floors. It was disorienting to see a drastic transition, but the path was the same.
I heard muffled conversation down the hall in the study and recognized Charles's voice- and Koenma's. I wanted to press my head against the door but I dipped into Kaito's room instead. I swiftly closed the door behind me, pleased that it was empty. I could rifle through his belongings unbothered. It unnerved me that Kaito felt his interference was necessary in our excursion. I was doubtful I would find anything of use, but I could at least steal a change of clothes.
His desk was bare, his shelves were desolate, and most of his dresser was empty. Without the glamours in place, the house stood out for what it was, an empty shell. The drawer of the desk was home to a single pen. I tapped the wood boards and found them thud with every step. There was a significant lack of hollow boards, secret spaces, nooks, and crannies. The room was mostly empty besides a bed, desk and closet.
For the lack of objects in Kaito's room, he had plenty of fine clothes to make up for the room void of comfort. I peeled the slacks and shirt off but realized the liquid had seeped to my skin and...I smelled.
I retched. I grabbed a button up shirt several sizes too large, a pair of Kaito's pants, and a belt and dashed into the bathroom across the hall hoping no one saw the dirty zombie girl in her bra and panties.
With the door shut behind me, I turned the light on, grabbed a hand mirror, and glanced up at the opposite mirror adjacent to the door and froze. My back was healing, whole again even, but there were definite crevices where the skin was hot-fixed together again. Metal clips were stabilizing some parts and holding other parts closed. Like a large metal chip clip.
If I didn't find a proper healer, it would scar into ugly welts. I dropped my disgusting clothes to the floor and stepped into the shower. Beneath me, layers of grime swirled around the drain. I was lathering my scalp when I heard a brusque knock outside the door before it opened and I heard a bemused voice.
"You really need to lock the bathroom door. How you feelin', pumpkin…" Miki was standing just outside the curtain. Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back and I heard a dismayed growl.
"Can I have some privacy?" Exasperated, I yanked the curtain between us, but it was pushed aside again allowing all the steam from my shower to escape.
Miki scrutinized my back: her lips set into a thin line. She glanced at the counter and clutched Kaito's shirt pulling it to her chin thoughtfully before pivoting on her feet and taking the shirt with her.
"Wha- Miki?" I was left standing in the shower awkwardly with the spray hitting my head at an odd angle, staring at the two articles of clothes I had remaining.
I wasn't left wondering for long, Miki returned with a silk camisole and placed it over the counter while I stepped over the edge of the tub.
"So...shirt? Or luxurious silk?" I pointed to the counter where the silk camisole draped over the pants.
Miki shook her head, "I want them to see. This is totally unacceptable."
"What are you...up to?" I tilted my head slightly to catch her gaze but she remained stoic with her lips set into a grim line. "Nothing troublesome, I hope."
"You weren't in that parlor a few moments ago." Miki glanced up at the mirror. "While our fearless leader, spirit babe, and star boy argued about culpability in the study, the boy squad was having their own argument on who to blame in the parlor. Miss Scarlet in the library with a candlestick." Fury flitted across her features, but they quickly smoothed over into a placid smile.
"Oh? I suppose it's not in my favor?" I inquired softly.
"No, it is not." Despite her smile, Miki's tone was acerbic as she enunciated each word.
"And you want to garner...sympathy? Or something? I don't get it." I wracked my brain and I couldn't figure out Miki's angle. My torn back was gruesome, yes, but simply existing in a room wouldn't elicit any reaction except disgust.
She placed her hands on my shoulders and guided me to the mirror. I averted my eyes from my reflection and Miki's gaze. I felt Miki roughly pull my hair and my eyes shot to the reflection of my melted beanie in her hands.
"I can't believe you showered with this on." Miki chuckled under her breath as she segued to a new topic and picked the melted polyester from my scalp.
"I completely forgot." I sheepishly replied.
"Mm." She acknowledged quietly, but her eyes were staring at the back of my skull. She brushed my silver strands of hair thoroughly, and she procured a brown cap and laid it flat on the crown of my head.
I broke into a grin as I watched the white turn to black and the pale skin turn into a familiar tan.
"Can't have our new demon acquaintances getting strange ideas…" Miki murmured while she tied the ends of my tresses into a loose braid and laid it over my shoulder. Either to keep hair out of the wound or to further expose my back to scrutinization. Knowing Miki, it was the ladder. She could be just as manipulative and impish as her brother, but she also had moments of brilliant awareness. I didn't know what she was scheming, yet; so, that remained to be seen.
"I think it's far too late for that. Parlor, you see." I attempted a light chuckle, but paused as I felt my skin tighten on my back.
"Right, it is worse for wear right now." Miki patted my shoulder lightly.
"So am I…"
"You'll heal. Charles will see to it." Miki assured me. She grasped my hand tightly and held it to her chest. "As a supe, it's not often I feel…"
"Human?" I supplied.
"Hopeless, Yoko." She sharply flicked my forehead.
"You worried about little ol' me?" I batted my lashes at her playfully.
"You must be feeling better if you're joking already." Miki looped the camisole straps around my wrists and slid them up to my shoulders.
She placed the camisole over my head and the fabric fluttered around my frame. I cinched the belt over the pants and camisole. That part I could manage on my own.
When I left the steamy bathroom, I heard hushed voices from down the hall. Miki placed her hand around my arm and guided me closer, but I stopped short in front of the door. The plain doors would lead to the parlor, or what was left of it.
Kuwabara's voice is what struck me the most. "I get why you think it was necessary, but there are other ways to go about it."
"Really, like what?" That was Yusuke's scathing voice.
"Did it occur to you to just ask?" Kuwabara countered.
"Always the fool." Cloak guy intervened.
"I don't get why we're even here…" Yusuke groaned.
I pushed the door open and it creaked as it gave way revealing the current occupants to me. Yusuke was standing in the middle of the parlor and fixed me with a fierce glare. Cloak-man leaned against the fireplace completely disinterested. Kuwabara stood closest to the threshold and he whipped around and smiled but faltered once he saw Miki. Each wall of the parlor was bare and white, and in place of the fireplace a lone radiator leaned against the wall.
Kurama remained in the blast zone glued to the same spot on the loveseat. The splatters of blood had been wiped from his cheeks but a few splotches remained on his pants and rimmed the threads of holes in his jacket. Our eyes met briefly, but he quickly directed his eyes elsewhere. At that small exchange, both our brows rose. Whether the 'boy squad,' as Miki dubbed them, had argued that I was the party to blame, it seemed there were doubts in Kurama's mind. Innocent people normally didn't avert their gaze.
"Where's Botan?" I asked, noticing the distinct absence of electric blue and I scanned the room for any signs of the grim reaper.
"She's resting in a guest room. And, before you worry. She's completely fine." Miki reassured while her arms remained wrapped around mine while she guided me to a chair.
I realized she was putting on a show escorting the seemingly hobbled me to the nearest divan. I felt prying eyes watch as I carefully walked across the room and heard a sharp intake of breath from Yusuke. It seemed he was not entirely immune to the grisly sight of my poorly sutured back. She slowly lowered me to my seat and sat on the edge of the armrest. I refused to sit with my back to them, however. It seemed rude and overly dramatic even for whatever unknown purpose Miki was trying to achieve.
"Father sent for your things. They arrived by Cait Sith in the foyer." Miki broke the silence in the parlor.
So, my suitcase that was at Genkai's temple had made its way back to me. I was somewhat relieved. If anyone rifled through my belongings, I'm spared an awkward conversation about the varieties of jerky in my suitcase; nor, did I have to make the five hour trip back to the temple. However, my relief was short lived and clouded by insidious doubts. The retrieval of my suitcase meant a few steps past the threshold and this small outing was already over. In whatever capacity I was going to serve my faction, I failed. That much was obvious by the climatic outcome of last evening's events.
"So what happens now?" I said aloud following my train of thoughts.
Miki sunk into the divan beside me. "Regardless of how any of us feel, all we can do is wait and see what the bosses say, amirite? There's no purpose in pointing fingers." She darkly assessed the other inhabitants of the room.
"There's been enough of that Miki. I don't care who was in the wrong." I reached up for my tense shoulders instinctively and kneaded the bump between my neck and shoulder.
"Figures you wouldn't care." Urameshi snarkily remarked.
"You're right." I admitted to myself begrudgingly. And in this instance, the petty remarks and squabbling between the two parties were the least of my worries. With the makeshift group falling through, it still left me without direction or query to discover Harada's whereabouts. Seemingly, Koenma had gotten his foot through the door of supernatural matters, and though he was genuine in his intent to stop the murders and souls from being mutated he pried too much with distrust. And, I repaid that distrust in kind. And now, I only had my faction family that could operate within the limits of their boundaries. My search to become human was no further than the previous months of searching.
The creaking of the parlor door broke the silence once more and Charles and Grelda arrived with an arsenal of supplies. The diviner lugged a basket of herbal remedies that assaulted my nose with a mixture of earthy rot and ethanol.
"Hello, dears." He addressed the room and even smiled serenely at Yusuke who was baffled in return. He darted out of the diviners path before plopping on a curved couch.
Charles pulled up a chair behind me and deftly worked on unclipping my sutures.
"Grelda, these ribs are perfectly placed. You have a way with bones as most Orcs do." Charles excitedly cleaned the leakage from my wounds and Grelda simply grunted in response. Although I felt the sensation of my skin being lifted and rearranged, I felt discomfort without the sharp excruciating pain of an open wound. I grasped the edges of the divan tightly all the same. The alien feeling of tools and hands underneath my skin was disconcerting.
"Does he...does he know what he's doing?" Kuwabara asked, horrified. He was looking at the spectacle with mouth agape.
Charles simply giggled and I chuckled as well. It was only funny because Charles did know, but not because he had any training in healing, but because he chose a path dealt by his abilities that would keep my back intact. That notion, that the chain of events was contingent on my backside allowed another chuckle to escape my lips.
"What has gotten you in a good mood?" Charles asked, curiosity piqued. I could ascertain he was halfway done by the sensations his hands beat against my back.
"I don't believe even you could have predicted that the future would entail my backside creating another fork in one of the many outcomes you normally see." I murmured.
"Oh, Yoko. That's dark." He clucked his tongue and leaned in so only the occupants of the divan could hear. "I think we are due for a mental check-in, you and I."
"Not here." I gritted out. While I appreciated Charles' ability to help me process my newfound undead state, I didn't need to broadcast my innermost doubts to a hostile audience.
"Of course." Charles continued his ministrations and the divan support cracked underneath my knuckles. "There, right as rain! They'll scar, of course, but you need not worry about being as gnarled as an old tree."
"Thank you, Charles." I sighed back into the seat and he patted my shoulder lightly and carefully around the wound.
Grelda dipped in an awkward curtsy for her stature and collected the supplies before exiting. Yusuke watched her leave warily and shifted in his seat as the door closed behind the helpful orc.
I waited to hear muffled discussions down the hallway accompanied by the long strides of Mr. Hara's footfalls and the short patter of Koenma who was trailing behind. Once they reached the door my breath hitched out of habit and anticipation. The door swung open and Koenma entered glancing at its occupants before settling on me. With a slow gait, the pacifier king circled the divan while Mr. Hara leaned against the door sporting his usual annoyed visage.
"It would seem...we have found ourselves in quite the predicament." Koenma took a turn about the room similar to a buzzard circling roadkill. He thoughtfully placed fingers to his chin.
"Quite." Daisuke agreed from his strategic position by the door. They weren't going to let us out without resolving this. At my incredulous look, Mr. Hara smirked mischievously and I fought the urge to make a snide remark.
Kurama's and cloaky's...Hiei's eyes darted between Koenma and the door and it appeared they had figured out the game too. Hiei adopted a similar stance by leaning against the wall and sneering at Koenma and the inconvenience unfolding before us. Kuwabara must have, at the very least, felt the tenseness in the room because he quickly and defeatedly plopped down like a kid sent to the principal's office.
"So, how did we get to this point?" Koenma stopped directly in front of Yusuke regarding him with a cold countenance. His scarf swayed behind him before slowing to a halt.
"I dunno...why don't you ask Nakajima?" Yusuke craned his neck around Koenma.
"Why bother asking me?" I huffed. Miki crossed her arms beside me defensively. "You've heard the first hand account from Kurama already."
"I didn't ask Nakajima. Since the question is beyond your understanding, allow me to rephrase." Koenma 'tsked' against his pacifier, "Did you antagonize Nakajima at the temple?"
"She- But Kuwabara…"
"I'll take that as your admission." Koenma snapped his fingers as if it was an 'a-ha' moment.
And Nakajima, "Did you antagonize my team at the temple?"
"Absolutely. It was even kind of fun." I nodded much to Daisuke's disapproval.
"See!" Yusuke threw up his arms exasperated.
"So, from the beginning, neither party acted professionally befitting the status of a detective." Koenma concluded. Yusuke let his scalp drop to the headrest in response to the spirit king's theatrics.
"And Nakajima, did you knowingly put my team in a dangerous situation?" Koenma swiveled on his heels towards me and stared expectantly.
"Not knowingly, but neglectfully." I admitted.
"Neglectfully, you say. But surely you knew there would be some backlash without going through the right procedures like any good detective. Isn't that correct?" Koenma pressed on.
And was he right? I suppose I wanted to push them into a foreign situation and even thought of making ripples by introducing them to the supernatural with such an overwhelming method.
"Yes, I wanted to give them a crash course. I took them to The Hollow consequences be damned." I smiled grimly.
"So you admit you knowingly skirted the rules?" Koenma nodded to Daisuke and he stood to his full height, imposing and commanding. With a look of quiet determination, he sized up the occupants of the room and his eyes landed on Kurama.
"I did. I regret it and I apologized for not informing Kurama and Botan beforehand." Charles softly squeezed my hand supportively. Hopefully, it meant I did the right thing.
"Kurama, is it?" Daisuke's golden eyes assessed the figure on the loveseat. "By your account, the state of my house is due to self defense."
Kurama silently nodded.
"One has to wonder if that was truly the case. Afterall, Yoko had her back turned to you in meditation. It doesn't sound like you needed self defense. In fact, I was there when you set your," he said with distaste,"vines on her."
"Only as a precaution." Kurama stated calmly.
"Was it warranted?" Daisuke coolly questioned as if it was the day's weather.
"Yes." He placed his hands in his crossed lap and closed his eyes as if he were meditating.
"Does that make sense to you, Yoko?"
"Not entirely, no." I thought aloud. I cursed my forwardness and eagerness to blurt out my answers, but Mr. Hara had the ability to make anyone feel like an insignificant bug and the weight of his severe gaze cut as sharply as any blade.
"Why not?" Now, he stood a few inches from the door. Slowly progressing towards the room, but only by a foot marking our own slow progression.
I tapped my fingers on the divan trying to verbalize my thoughts. I did have my back turned, and I even rationalized his actions earlier so why….
Instead I just recited Kuwabara verbatim when I overheard him in the foyer, "I get why you think it was necessary, but there are other ways to go about it."
I glanced up at Kuwabara and caught his ears transitioning through several shades of red.
"It wasn't about that, I swear." Kuwabara waved his hands in front of him defensively.
Yusuke mopped his face with his hands and muttered, "Idiot."
"Oh? What was it about?" I swung my legs underneath me innocently and engaged I leaned forward.
"Oh, nothing!" Kuwabara tugged the back of his neck and dropped them immediately as Yusuke shot a glare in his direction.
"Kaz." I sighed. He was never good at lying, poor Kuwabara.
"Well…" Kuwabara tented his indexes together nervously.
"Kaz!" I barked.
"Kurama was trying to plant one of those seedling things to spy on you." Kuwabara relented. "I told him he should have asked you!"
"I appreciate it. I do." I fought the urge to laugh and feel disgusted simultaneously. Kuwabara's antics always had a way of making me feel...lighter. However, the news that I was nearly implanted with a seedling sent a shiver up my mangled spine.
"He's right, you should have just asked." I laced my hands behind my neck. After being impaled with Kurama's flowery stabby friends, I felt somewhat more protective of my neck. "You could spy on me, sure, but could you use it to track me down too?"
"That was the original purpose of the device." Kurama was deftly rolling something across his knuckles and I realized the small rind was the seedling in question.
"And you didn't tell me because…"
"Any plant is a weapon in my hand. With your obvious distrust of me coupled with that-"
"You forego the courtesy of just asking. And attempted to plant one on me with my back turned, but shit turned left." Creepy, but useful if used correctly. If I were isolated or Dr. Harada found me before we managed to track him down; it was actually...reasonably practical. I massaged my brows and let my chin drop into my chest.
"I would've said yes. You know...if you just asked." I peeked up and barely missed Kurama's brow shoot upward as the seedling on his knuckles paused.
"Told you." Kuwabara crossed his arms self righteously with his nose pointed upwards.
"Besides I can survive a killswitch if it ever comes to that. You personally witnessed one incident." I playfully pointed a thumb at my back.
Out of the corner of my eye, Daisuke took another step forward. One more step in the right direction.
"Yes, perhaps I should have trusted your judgement more. You were mostly truthful throughout the night." Kurama pocketed the seed and sat upright.
Daisuke took a step backwards and leaned against the door once more. Damnit.
Mostly truthful. So, Kurama did pick holes through my story.
"I'm curious about the purpose of the killswitch on your weapon. It seems counterproductive." Koenma interjected.
"Ah, perhaps I can provide the answer there." Charles quipped. "Supernatural weapons are regulated and can only be carried by those authorized. They're completely useless and malfunction in human hands; however, should another creature or supernatural have any machinations to take the gun, it blows up. I should know, I designed it. There are very few things that can actually kill a supernatural. It's absolutely principal weapons of that caliber are not...mishandled." He finished matter-of-factly.
"Kurama took my gun while I was meditating. Surprisingly, his vines could carry it, but once his fingers touched it." I clucked my tongue and mimicked ticking. "Booom."
"How interesting." Charles' eyes came alive with possibilities with news the gun was transferable via vine.
"To you, maybe." I muttered.
"Your gun exploded?" Yusuke's voice was dripping with disbelief. His eyes were wide as saucers, "So, your gun did that to your back. I thought you lost a fight with flower boy over here."
Oh. So maybe Kurama hadn't told them everything.
"Do Kurama's opponents normally look like they get the piss beaten out of them?" At that, Yusuke deviously grinned.
"No, they do not." Kurama quickly answered and Yusuke deflated by sagging into the couch.
"Nakajima shielded Botan and I from the blast. I wrongly assumed she was reaching for her gun, but I realized that she was preventing it from imploding." Kurama tilted his head towards me. "I appreciate despite our dysfunctional introductory, you were willing to act quickly." He smiled curiously and I gazed around the room to witness looks of surprise and newfound appreciation. However, the light smile didn't reach Kurama's eyes, they were still focused and as calculative as ever.
Sly. Withhold information only to reveal it later to smooth things over was very sly indeed. Daisuke steadily walked a few steps forward and removed himself from the door. Progress!
"I suppose that sums up the incident." Koenma clapped his hands together. "Is there anything we missed?"
My heart dropped and against all warnings I felt my lips move on their own. If I were still human, I would have felt the bile rise to my throat. At first, Daisuke glanced at me with inquisitive eyes, but his shoulders stilled and his countenance and pose turned to cold fury. Behind me I heard Charles let out a sigh of relief. He knew what was coming and he always did. By the end of my statement, I felt a cold dread pool in my stomach as the rest of the occupants looked on in stupefaction (or disinterest if you were Hiei.)
"A year ago on Halloween, Dr. Harada killed me. He didn't know it yet, but I was his first turned Zombie." I regretted it the moment it left my mouth.
I scrutinized the room to assess the damage. I avoided Daisuke's death stare entirely because I did the one thing I was told to not do. Miki fought a grin but the edges of her mouth tilted upwards and her hand clutching mine was shaking as she was trying to control her laughter. It wasn't often she got to stick it to her father. Yusuke was a disheveled mess as he ran fingers through his normally slicked back hair. Koenma's back was turned to me, but I can only assume he was sizing up Daisuke who had also lied to him. Kurama seemed completely stoic except for the minor purse of his lips and he plastered on a serene smile. It was as if I showed him the solution of a puzzle too soon when he had nearly solved it.
Kuwabara grinned at me goofily. He gazed around the room curiously before settling that lopsided grin on me once more.
"Well, duh." He said in a raspy know-it-all tone. "Her hair's white!"
I sputtered at first, but soon I felt guffaws leave my chest and I laughed hysterically while I wrapped my arms against myself.
It figures Kuwabara of all people with his sixth sense could see through the glamour.
I fixed some of the errors and accidental backspaces. My bad.
Thanks for coming back to read this little story. 3
I came back to nice messages inquiring after my long hiatus. And one not so nice one. Iss fine.