Let them think what they liked,

but I didn't mean to drown myself.

I meant to swim till I sank –

but that's not the same thing.

Joseph Conrad

A Friend in Need

I jolted awake without warning, hand flying to smother the screams in my throat. Early morning sunlight massaged my face and hair, pulling me from dreams laden with rending claws and blood-lust. Even now, the silver-haired phantom danced across my mind's eye, thorned vines snaking up each arm. Ears perfectly erect, he glared without hesitation, golden eyes dripping with malice–

Hating my weakness.

You're killing us.

A shudder and I settled back against the sheets, willing my breathing to slow. Torn fabric met skin, tickling my hands, sides, buttocks . . . every inch of my body. Glancing down, I noted the pattern-like rips in the material, the foam peeking through like so much bone–

The scarlet threads clinging to torn fingernails.

You're killing us, boy!

Taking a deep breath, I pressed shaking hands to my eyes, knowing words could not appease him. Rather, I forced myself to think of mother: of her smile, her kindness when I least deserved it – when we least deserved it. The warmth of her touch, her bravery in the face of illness–

The woman he'd grown to love.

He calmed immediately, though I tasted his anger on my tongue. Why won't you see her?

I bit back a chuckle, pushing until both cheekbones ached. As a full-time wife and mother of a high school student, mother had little time for her grown son. Oh, no doubt she would make time if I asked, but I could not do that. Mother sacrificed much as a single parent, to the point where death nearly took her. She had the life she deserved now, needed and loved by Shuichi and his father–

I refused to disrupt her happiness.

A soundless snort, invisible eyes raking across my mind and fragmented thoughts. You're a coward.

Sweat-soaked skin filled my nostrils as I sighed, offering a weak smile. Let him think that, if he wished–

I was little more than a vessel now, anyway.

A lily's cry drew my attention to the window and I paused, unsure whether to trust the sight. Sunlight shone through three pictures plastered to the glass – two photographs and one drawing – though one was considerably larger than the others. One photo focused on a man's genitalia, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination; the other framed a familiar scarred hand shooting a bird, offending finger angled masterfully at my bed. Finally, the penciled sketch captured a top-view of a scrotal sac, pubic hair swirling this way and that as a caricature pointed and laughed.

I blinked twice before the truth of the matter set in and I shook my head, shoulders shaking with mirth.

After all these years, I should know better than to doubt Yusuke's threats.

Stepping carefully across the room, I cracked the window open before peeling away each image, a task which took quite some time due to all the tape. How Yusuke posted the pictures by the bedroom was beyond me: the nearest fire escape lay beneath the living room window, and an ample corner separated it from my here.

However, my friend scaling this building up to the tenth floor was entirely plausible.

Pulling the pane shut, a cursory glance proved the sketch more complex than it appeared. What I first took to be hairs were in fact characters, hiragana symbols forming curving sentences:

:

Thought I was fooling around, huh?

Well, joke's on you, fox boy!

Meet me at the ramen stand tonight or else!

Plenty more where this came from.

A deep chuckle. You keep amusing company.

My lips crept into a smile without permission, slipping the notes into a desk drawer. "Is that so?"

He kept silent though his humor remained, crystal mirth peering from a black sea. Yoko had always been fond of Yusuke – he'd demonstrated as much by allowing me to take on his form in order to avenge Yusuke's murder. While the others took time to grow on him, namely Kuwabara, Yusuke won Yoko's trust when he offered to give his life to save mother's. Protective by nature, kitsune guard their treasures fiercely, especially when those objects are wrapped in flesh. Yusuke's determination to protect Yoko's treasure – the woman he'd come to call mother – helped solidify his resolve to remain human.

If only Spirit World's paranoia hadn't usurped that sentiment.

You should see him.

I sighed, massaging the tip of a fern frond. The plant purred at my touch, shuddering as energy poured from calloused fingertips. Just as liquid and its container are taken together as one, so too was our energy, despite our best efforts to remain separate. Just as Yoko fed upon me to remain in this body, so I fed upon him in order to remain. An ouroborus with no hope of reprieve:

Such was our existence.

"I cannot."

Ice slithered through my veins, though his response lacked emotion. Why?

"Surely you haven't forgotten King Enma's nature in twenty-odd years?" Trash brushed against my feet as I moved about the room, touching and filling each plant. "Spirit World forgives readily enough, but it never forgets. Yusuke and Kuwabara may escape punishment due to their records and shared humanity, though Yusuke has demon blood as well." Pinpricks lined my intestines, silver needles shifting every so often. "However, Hiei and I were both apprehended for stealing Spirit World's artifacts, and let's not forget why you came to this world in the first place, old friend." I smiled. "Provoking Enma would be foolish – he could find any number of reasons to put us away."

He listened without a sound, as though testing the weight of my words. Finally, when the hibiscus hugged my fingers with ready leaves: Do you want to die?

"Not particularly, no." I retracted my hand, watching the yellow petals sigh. "Though I suppose it matters little either way."

Pain coiled my stomach, a sensation I'd grown used to in the last few weeks. Every instinct called for sustenance – anything to curb the inevitable – but the mere thought of food made me queasy.

Shuffling to the bathroom, I turned on the faucet, willing cold water to fill both palms. However, for a moment I could only stare. Child-sized wrists, translucent skin, fingers resembling bleached talons rather than human digits–

These were not my hands.

A specter stared back from the mirror, eyes milky, unfocused. Bruised lids surrounded green irises, concave cheeks heralded cracked lips trembling with effort. Pale skin appeared sickly against red hair, each strand dulled by malnutrition:

This was not my face.

Suddenly, spots dotted my vision and fire settled once again in my belly, carving a path from my navel to my spine. Breath refused to enter my lungs, no matter how wide my mouth opened, and the world began to spin.

Shuichi!

Pain crashed once again and I crumpled to the floor, fireworks lighting my head. Something hot coated my face, running into my eyes and nose with abandon. My senses detected everything and nothing, each held in perpetual limbo as tightness continued to grow in my chest.

Shuichi, you need to get help. Yoko said, his voice an anchor to my over-stimulated brain. If you don't get help, you're going to die.

"W-what's hap-pening?" I groaned, jaw grinding against another agonizing wave.

You've deprived yourself for too long – your body is at it's limit.

My lungs devoured a precious breath, solidifying my thoughts.Mother's face flashed in my mind's eye and I grit my teeth, allowing self-preservation free reign. Nails scraping uselessly at the tiles, I tried and failed to rise twice before the beginnings of panic inched forth. "I . . . can't move!"

Who can help?

A handful of names surfaced though I dismissed each one. "N-no–"

Then I'll ask again.

My bedroom loomed through the fog and I willed myself toward it, skin sticking to the floor. My phone; if I could only reach my phone–

Do you want to die?

They appeared then, welcome phantoms as darkness stole my sight. Yusuke's enthusiasm was as infectious as ever. Bangs shading his eyes, he grinned with both hands on his hips, baring every tooth in his head. I'd never understood how he carried the sun in his smile but basked in the light, allowing it to wash away the pain.

Hiei materialized next, mouth pulled into a decisive frown. Subtle emotion flickered behind ruby irises, so many fireflies glinting in the night. Nose wrinkling, he didn't comment on my nude state, nor the stench clinging to me. Rather, his natural heat spread without warning, thawing my flesh to something pliable once again.

The last kept his back to us, broad shoulders soaring above the others. Pompadour waving in the wind, Kuwabara refused to look at me, staring off somewhere in the distance. Even though he kept his gaze shielded, I could sense his disappointment, his heartache. He never moved once, as if his body were carved from stone–

So unlike the man I knew.

"Kuwabara?" Sandpaper ate at my throat, almost drowning out his name.

Yusuke raised a brow, bringing both hands behind his head. "Can you hear me? C'mon fox boy, get up!"

Anger flickered across Hiei's face, disgust at my weakness, no doubt. "Wake up, you fool!"

Kuwabara remained silent, impassive in the face of their distress.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

"Wake up, Kurama!"

"Please, wake up!"

A deep ache in my chest and I gasped, each sense rushing back with surprising clarity. Aged wood, cleaning products, freshly washed linens and the stale odor of cigarettes filled the air, each burning inhale clearing my brain. Heavy breaths, distant car horns, along with an insistent dripping I couldn't quite place; a clock marked the time somewhere. Iron coated my tongue and teeth, along with bile and bitterness which only came from medicine. Fiery darts assaulted my body, though such was bearable compared to the pain from earlier – a pain which now refused to rear its head. Finally, light assaulted my vision to the point I feared I'd entered the next world:

That is, until I the voice sounded again.

"Kurama?"

I followed the sound willingly, head turning with considerable effort. Kuwabara appeared through the haze, metamorphosing from rough shapes to the contours I knew so well. For once, his hair held no gel – a curled mop held back by a well-placed headband. Normally robust skin appeared ashen in my sight, though the arms bursting from his tank top were thick as ever. He held my gaze with rapt attention and though the beginnings of a smile turned his lips, it didn't quite reach his eyes, nor mask the anxiety I found there.

What had happened?

"Kurama, can you hear me?"

My jaw worked but for some reason, words refused to rise. Rather, a pitiful whimper leaked between parted lips and terror coiled my stomach, causing my fingers to twitch atop the bed sheets. No flora reached my nose, nor any familiar scent save my companion's–

Where were we?

Alarm never lit Kuwabara's face but rolled from his body in waves, cinnamon tufts mixing with cedar and something altogether homely. "T-that's okay man, don't worry about it." He spoke slowly, forcing the smile while enunciating each word. "You need to rest any–"

"Wh–where am . . . I?" I managed to rasp, ignoring the tightness in my throat.

"My house." He straightened, adjusting something at his side before leaning closer. "Alright, need to ask you some questions, okay?"

Suspicion slithered beneath my skin though I gave the slightest of nods.

Pen in hand, Kuwabara glanced down at a notepad in his lap, contemplating. "What's today's date?"

"June 24th." I answered without hesitation, gaze shifting to the ceiling.

A grunt and the pen scraped against paper. "What's your mother's first name?"

The dripping caught my ear again and my nostrils burned, though I smiled anyway. "Shiori."

I sensed more than saw him nod as the pen set to work again.

Then, after a moment's hesitation, "Do you live alone?"

That one caught me off-guard and I glanced his way, noting his sober look. A subtle shift caught my attention and something stirred deep inside, as though I were being watched–

Stalked by a predator with golden eyes.

"I'm never alone."

Another nod as he made a final note before setting the pad and pen aside. Bending closer, he began pressing at my abdomen, arms and neck with sure fingers, noting each pained sound and suspect areas. "I don't know how often you two talk, but next time you do, please thank him for me."

I raised a brow, silently questioning as he applied pressure just above my navel.

Kuwabara offered a sideways glance, contemplating. Then:

"If it wasn't for him, you'd be dead right now."

Only then did I notice the IV snaking from an inconspicuous stand, the thick tube pumping tan sludge into my side, the oxygen tank working to help me breathe. Dark bruises lined the top of my chest, each shaped after two familiar hands, along with dim outlines I couldn't quite place. Bandages covered my right hand and arm, folds hugging flesh from shoulder to fingertip. Though a thin sheet covered my lower half, I recognized the unpleasant sensation belonging only to a catheter, which even then was diligently at work.

He pressed my ribs and I winced but made no move to fight; it would've been a fruitless endeavor, anyway. "What happened?"

"That's what I want to know." Kuwabara took my wrist in one hand, eyes trained on a wristwatch as his fingers felt for my pulse. "I was on the way home from work when I got a call from you."

"What . . .?"

Work; that would explain the equipment. Shortly after entering medical school, Kuwabara shifted his focus from pediatrics to the paramedic field. Both were trained in life-saving care; however, doctors spent much of their time in offices while paramedics rushed to needy people – the front-runners against injury and disease. After observing the unsung heroes of the medical world, my friend grew to admire paramedics deeply, so much so that he altered his entire career path in order to join their ranks.

How had I forgotten he'd officially entered the work force over a month ago?

Halting a gasp as he pressed a stethoscope to my chest, I obeyed his order to breathe regularly, counting the beats of my heart.

"I hadn't heard from you in weeks. Not since – well, you know." He mumbled, helping me sit upright and pressing the device to my back. "So, of course I answered right away." Here he paused, listening intently or collecting his thoughts, I couldn't tell. "At first, all I could hear was you screaming. It was far-off, but I knew it was you."

Here, his hand shifted against my spine, the beginnings of trembling overtaking his normally firm palm. "You wouldn't answer, no matter what I said, so I started running. When the line went silent, it scared the crap out of me." He moved the stethoscope first up, then down, all while counting under his breath. "Did you know you live ten minutes from the hospital where I work?" I shook my head, hair brushing over the roving fingers prodding protruding vertebrae. "Somehow, though, I made it to your place in less than five." A smile crept into his voice. "Never ran so fast before in my life."

Struggling to think back, my memories were fuzzy at best, shrouded in darkness and Yoko's voice. "What happened?" I asked, the room threatening to swallow my voice.

"When I got there, you were going into cardiac arrest." My gaze shifted and I caught his eye even as he continued his inspection, noting his quivering chin and twisted lips. "I, uh, kinda had to kick the door in to get to you." Here he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't worry, I'll pay for it–"

"Never mind that." Surprisingly enough, I felt no shame in Kuwabara seeing my current living conditions, an environment birthed from apathy. "Please, continue."

Here he paused, cheek drawing between his teeth. "You weren't breathing." His admission was soft, mournful; a dove's cry. Emotion choked his voice and his professional facade crumbled, leaving devastation in its wake. "You still had a pulse but it was all over the place and–and you weren't breathing, man!" He wiped at glistening eyes, one strong arm holding me steady. "I . . . I thought I'd lost you! Just like back then–!"

Yusuke's battered, dead face surfaced but I tucked it away, focusing instead on the man at my back. For some reason, I remained unmoved by this news but then again, death had never bothered me.

Yoko had already died once, anyway.

The IV tugged at my arm as I placed a hand on his shoulder, a hand shaking under its own weight. "I assume you called your coworkers?"

He shook his head, inhaling sharply before helping me lie back down. "No, I couldn't."

Taking a gracious breath, I watched him jot more notes onto the pad, pen child-like in his hand. "Why not?"

Brow knit, he made one last mark before setting the instrument down, granting me his full attention. "Because he was there."

For a time, only the sounds of medical equipment permeated the air, though somehow the silence was not stifling, unlike the quiet permeating my apartment.

Finally, after an ample gathering of himself, Kuwabara continued. "The first thing I saw were the vines on your bed. They were wrapped around your phone, tiny branch-things pressed to the screen and everything. They were all dying – even I could see that." He licked his lips, dragging a hand down his face. "The vines led to your bathroom and that's where I found you; I mean, where I found him."

He ground his jaw, glaring at the floor. "You'd almost fully transformed. Everything looked like him: skin, claws, eyes; even his ears were there! The only thing off was the hair – there was still a bit of red there but that's it." He shuddered. "The vines were coming out of his hand – they'd busted right out of his body. That's why your hand's messed up so bad."

I glanced at my right hand and attempted to make a fist to no avail. Though a few fingers moved, the rest remained immobile, though red dotted the white folds. "What did you do?"

"What else could I do? I started CPR." Oxygen sighed from the tank, punctuating his words. "I'm glad I got there when I did because you'd just stopped breathing – any longer and it'd have been too late." He rubbed the end of his nose, a blush tinting both cheeks. "I had to beat on your chest pretty hard and with CPR, you have to use your mouth to, uh, you know." His face darkened to scarlet and he bowed his head. "So, sorry about that."

A chuckle bubbled in my throat, rushing fresh pain through both larynx and chest. "It's fine, Kuwabara."

"Even then it was tricky, had to use a defibrillator to trick your heart into beating like it's supposed to." He patted a small box at his side, one with interconnecting wires. "I always have one with me, just in case."

I smiled, relishing the cold fluid seeping into my veins. ""What then?"

"Well, you changed back while I saved you." Kuwabara paused, running ready fingers through his hair. "I couldn't really watch 'cause I was busy, but it was pretty cool. Before you turned back completely though, he opened his eyes and looked at me. I think he might have even smiled!" He sighed, tracing crossed ankles with a finger. "You were naked but I was, uh, kinda glad you were." At my raised brow he continued quickly. "If you had clothes on, I wouldn't have been able to see how bad off you were! And given how bad off you are, I don't think you want me to take you to the hospital?"

Mother's face appeared then and a shudder overtook my body. "No, you judged correctly."

"So I wrapped you in my coat and brought you here. Got a few weird looks on the street but I'm a big guy. People don't mess with me much."

"No, I'm sure they do not." I closed my eyes, exhaustion stealing all mirth.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Opening one eye, I looked at him once again only to come face-to-face with a familiar bottle. "I saw this lying on the counter and brought it too. Given it was full and he almost made it out again, I put some in your IV. Hope that's alright."

"You did well Kuwabara, thank you."

Sweet darkness crept in then, a dreamless sleep promising nothing.

"Thank you." I whispered to the depths, sure he would hear.

A flash of silver and I was gone, swept into the abyss where shadows dwelt.

Honeyed warmth greeted me on the wings of wakefulness, tugging at a sluggish mind.

Yukina sat beside me now, glowing hands pressed to either side of my navel. She appeared otherworldly in the dim light; an angel clothed in yellow with a pale cardigan. Pain I'd grown used to over the past two months disappeared at her touch, and though the sensation was slow in coming, she did not seem to be in a hurry.

"Oh, you're awake!" Her voice caught my attention; however, I couldn't bring myself to return her smile. "Don't worry, Kazuma's in the bath but he will return soon."

I hummed in acquiescence, the IV's dripping dulling her words. "How long was I out?"

"Almost a full day; it's evening again."

Sleep called once again but I banished the thought, focusing once more on her hands.

Her smile dimmed as she followed my line of sight. "Your stomach was digesting itself, and many organs were shutting down." She explained softly, fingernails tracing invisible threads. "Kazuma called the temple last night, asking me to come as quickly as possible. Something was wrong – something he couldn't fix – and he needed my help. So, I left without telling anyone, not even Yusuke."

That's right. Yukina spent much of her time with Genkai now, helping the old master to turn the temple into a halfway house for demons. "I assume Yusuke was assisting Master Genkai?"

"Yes, though he wasn't happy about it." Yukina's lips slipped then, nearly dipping into a frown. "I made it to town but the last train had already left. All I could think of was Kazuma. He sounded so frightened – I've never heard anything like it. I had to reach him but didn't know how."

Her fingers snake a steady path across my belly, skin burning bright in their wake. "What did you do? Surely you didn't walk all the way here?"

She shook her head, a smile once again lighting her face. "No, I didn't have to – Hiei helped me."

Eyes wide, I turned to face her so quickly my vision swam. Shoulders trembling against the bed, I swallowed rising bile, willing my tongue to speak. "What?"

"He surprised me too: just as I was starting off on foot, Hiei appeared, demanding why I was in a human village in the middle of the night." She paused, voice softening further. "He listened without a word when I told him about the phone call, how something was wrong and about Kazuma's panic, how he didn't want anyone other than me here. Hiei brought me without hesitation after that."

Yukina's smile widened marginally as her hands crept to my side, fingers weaving around the feeding tube. "You can imagine our surprise: neither of us were expecting to see you, Kurama, especially not in this state. Kazuma was startled at first but couldn't be angry, not once I explained the situation."

Did she not realize Kuwabara was incapable of anger towards her? Rather than acknowledge this point, however, I focused on the light creeping around the tube and the resulting colors. Red, brown and orange swirled beneath the plastic, churning into my body from an unseen source. Normally, I would demand to know the contents of such a thing but, as matters stood, I had neither the motivation nor energy to care.

"Hiei was very upset."

I raised a brow as her voice wavered, cool fingers curling against my side. "You were sleeping when we arrived. Hiei took one look at you and demanded to speak to Kazuma, alone." Yukina leaned forward, pressing the opposite side with care. "I couldn't hear much of what they said, couldn't leave your side for the longest time. You were so weak, Kurama – we almost lost you twice."

Curiosity deflected her sorrow with little effort. "And yet you heard some of their conversation?"

"Oh!" She blinked, rubbing at drooping lids. "Yes, neither of them were very quiet, especially Kazuma." The admission curled her lips. "Though Hiei raised his voice quite a few times."

Satisfied with the stark rib cage, she moved to my chest, placing both hands inside the imprints of Kuwabara's. "Where is Hiei now?"

"The Spirit World, I think."

"What?" I started as warmth filled my lungs; tissue, blood vessels and Lord knows what else shifting beneath her fingertips.

"Please be still, this is the difficult part." Yukina warned, leaning closer still, brows knit in concentration.

I obeyed without hesitation, allowing the koorime to do with me as she willed. Several minutes passed this way, each breath bringing less pain than the last until, finally, the bruises faded altogether. However, a low rattle still accompanied every inhale, burgeoning a pain deep inside my lungs.

"I'm sorry, but I can't fully heal." Yukina admitted, moving to my throat. "Your body is neither demon nor human; not really, anyway. It's hard to tell where the human parts end and the other begins, or where they've combined to form something else."

"You've done more than enough, Yukina." My voice hummed against her fingers, healing light strengthening my esophagus little by little. "But what of Hiei? Did Koenma summon him?" Had something unthinkable happened at the border between the two worlds?

"No, he went on his own." One hand lifted my head while the other began undoing bandages at my forehead – wrappings I didn't know were there. Yukina sucked in a breath, tracing what I realized were crude stitches. "Glass." She murmured before light radiated from her palms once again, warmth pulling at the edges of the wound. "I think it has something to do with you though."

I blinked, squinting through the glow. "With me?"

A nod. "Your name came up many times last night, as well as the state Kazuma found you in. After they'd talked for a while, Hiei said 'I'll handle it' and left. Kazuma came in muttering Lord Koenma's name; I assume Hiei went to see him."

Of all the foolish–! I bit back a curse, forcing myself to rise. "I must stop him."

"Kurama!" The light disappeared as both of her hands grasped at my shoulders. "Wait, you're not strong enough–!"

"Integration of demonkind into the human world is stalling! Humans do not want us here and believe us to be nothing more than beasts – a doctrine many in Spirit World readily align with." I glared at those small hands, willing my eyes to focus on something, anything. "If war breaks out between the two, whom do you think Spirit World will side with?"

"B-but that's–" Her voice trailed away, slowly losing the battle with self-restraint.

I ground my jaw as the pain gripped my abdomen once again, grunting as I nearly fell on top of her. "Kurama!"

"If Hiei were a neutral party, things would be different. Regardless of the aid he's given the Spirit World, he is a demon. As am I." I rasped, gripping her arms. "I cannot understand what he hopes to accomplish by going there! Why would he do such a thing?"

"Because I asked him too."

Kuwabara stood in the entryway, towel in- hand. Damp curls resting atop his forehead as he wiped at his face with the cloth, eyes never leaving mine. He appeared perfectly comfortable in a white t-shirt and threadbare jogging pants, bare feet covering the distance between us with hardly a sound.

I squinted, trying and failing to clear my vision. "Kuwabara?"

Draping the towel across his shoulders, he lowered himself beside Yukina, gently prying my hands away. "Last time I saw you, you were fine, man; healthy, strong." He said quietly, pushing me back to the mattress with same practiced care. However, steel lined his voice, glinted in his eyes like a sword tip. "Then, two months pass and no one can get in touch with you. Urameshi saw you once; said you looked like a ghost. I didn't want to believe him, but now–"

He clamped his mouth shut, nose wrinkling as he began checking my vitals. "Even though you're a free man, Kurama, you've got a lot of enemies in both Demon and Spirit World. The way you are now, even I could beat you up, no problem. But it wasn't like that before, not until Koenma gave you that order." His gaze met mine, burning with quiet passion. "Tell me I'm wrong."

I winced as fire stabbed my gut once again but remained silent, eyes roving to the ceiling.

"That's what I thought." Kuwabara grunted, pulling his hands away. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell Urameshi – he's no good with stuff like this." He pressed at my stomach experimentally, fingers working from navel to solar plexus, gauging my reaction. "I asked Shorty to tell Koenma you're staying with me until you get better. I don't care if he's the ruler of Spirit World or not – you're not going anywhere until you're back to normal."

I groaned at a particularly sensitive area, squinting to see him. "But Kuwabara–"

"What's the worst he can do, lock me up? Neither Hiei or Urameshi would go for it and I really don't think Koenma wants a showdown with Demon World right now."

He reached into a black bag then, rummaging around before retrieving a syringe full of clear liquid. "Morphine. Don't worry, it's a low dose." He offered at my sharp look, brandishing the instrument. At my nod he administered the medicine through the IV, though due to Yoko's innate sensitivity to such things the effects were almost immediate.

Only when he saw me relax did Kuwabara do the same, asking Yukina to make tea while he checked the bandages on my right arm.

Once she left, however, he settled back down, arms folding across his chest. "Alright, talk to me."

A/N: Hello again and thank you for your patience! This chapter shifted from my original plan and changed the story's plot a bit but hey, happy with how this turned out and hope you guys are too! Sometimes it helps to follow silver-haired plot bunnies.

Thank you for all who have favorited and followed this story, and for everyone's continued readership! Big thanks to WhatWouldValeryDo for beta reading and listening to my crazy ideas – this story would not have happened without you.

So, fox boy had a brush with death but the cavalry has arrived! Is this really the end of Kurama's troubles? And will Koenma abide with Kuwabara's decision? Azumi's up next chapter. Please leave a review and see you soon!