It is not the gift,

but the thought that counts.

– Henry Van Dyke

How to Save a Life

The time spent with the Kuwabaras marked the most humiliating period of my life.

During the first week, I remained unable to do anything on my own. I lacked the strength to sit up, or even converse for extended periods of time. Nourishment came through various tubes, and my body demanded far more sleep than it should. Reading remained out of the question for I could not hold a book. Even something as simple as looking out the window eluded me because my legs would not carry me more than two steps from the bed.

Kuwabara's presence remained constant that week. I quickly grew accustomed to the feel of my friend's hands upon me, checking my pulse, eyes, and tongue. From time to time, he would press at seemingly random areas or pinch my flesh, noting every detail on his clipboard. He never panicked at what he saw, nor did he express his personal feelings on the matter. Rather, he filled the air with idle chatter, talking about everything from his job to his love for Yukina. My inability to respond at times did nothing to stifle his cheer or steady voice, the sound soothing both during examinations and when there was nothing better to do. Kuwabara did everything in his power to assure I was not alone in this–

Somehow, he knew his presence was enough to set me at-ease.

Yukina remained by my side whenever work called Kuwabara away, ever willing to offer what comfort she could, though she could do precious little against prolonged malnutrition. I could not count the number of times she brushed my hair, working through tangles with a thick-toothed comb, extracting withered seeds with utmost care. She also read to me, soft voice narrating various works I could not enjoy on my own. When the pain was at its worst, she'd trace gentle lines across my arm and shoulder, much like mother did when I was a child. We spent several hours this way and Kuwabara came home more than once to find us engrossed in a book, Yukina stroking my hair or skin.

Passages on snow-capped lands were my favorite, for they brought the most feeling to her voice. A peculiar light lit Yukina's eye when she described expanses of arctic wastes or tumultuous tundras, following the daily lives of snow foxes, penguins and polar bears. Fingers tracing each word, her voice gained a level of excitement it normally lacked; her smile somehow grew warmer as well. She even enjoyed fictitious works set in these places, whether they followed Kawabata's tragic geisha or Lovecraft's hero descending the icy depths in search of the legendary Cthulhu. In those cold lands, she never shrank from the darkness of humanity, nor appeared overly concerned about whether the guilty paid for their crimes.

She was much too taken by the snow.

The first week also seared itself into my brain with the introduction of sponge baths, carried out once daily. Don't misunderstand, I was familiar with the practice – I'd helped mother bathe when she could not do so during her illness – but such a thing had never been done to me. Kuwabara's smile never wavered when he carried out the task, false gaiety unperturbed by cold glances and muted lips. Even Yoko rallied alongside the human, stringent hygiene habits and self-preservation momentarily overriding his animosity. Still, I found myself unable to thank my friend when the sponge ran across my skin, picking up sweat and who knows what else.

Actual bathing came during the second week.

"Easy." Kuwabara breathed, grip on my side and arm sure as we made our way to the bathroom. Ordinarily a short trip, shambling steps and weak knees proved to be my undoing, stretching the trek to a preposterous length. "Almost there, just relax."

My lungs refused to obey, breath coming in fits and starts. Both legs quivered, goose flesh dotting thighs and bare buttocks. After deciding clothes were unnecessary since they would be removed anyway, Kuwabara joined me in my nakedness, no doubt to save me further embarrassment. Yukina made herself scarce during those times, though I knew she remained within earshot – she would never leave a friend in this condition.

When I determined sponge baths were insufficient, Kuwabara suggested acquiring a wheelchair from work, something I discouraged for multiple reasons. First, while he could claim the equipment necessary in case of an emergency, there was no logical reason for a paramedic to have a wheelchair when not on the clock – not when every member of his household was known to be healthy. Secondly, the halls here were narrow, too narrow for either of us to wheel about the flimsy thing. Ultimately, though, neither I nor my companion wanted to subject ourselves to such humiliation.

Better the human help us than to be reminded of my folly by a cloth chair.

Kuwabara quickly discovered there wasn't enough room for both us and the bathing stool so he removed the latter, content with holding me under the shower head. Often the weight of damp hair and slick limbs sapped what strength I'd reserved and, if not for my friend, I would have fallen against the tile. However, Kuwabara never let go, even when bitter curses seeped from my mouth. He allowed me to sit on the floor while he washed my hair, big body taking the brunt of the water, fingers gently lathering dull tresses.

"No creepy plants are gonna pop out and eat me, right?" He joked, nipple inches from my nose.

A dry chuckle, almost too low to hear. "So long as you don't pull, no."

By the time he finished with my hair, I'd recovered enough to stand. However, this was the extent of my second wind – I couldn't even bathe myself. Kuwabara took on the task without hesitation; we were far past the point of caring about embarrassment or personal space. Cold tile bit my skin as he scrubbed with a sud-soaked rag, fingernails digging into the filament while he bathed my legs and abdomen, heat somehow seeping into my bones when frothy white coated my most intimate places:

Needless to say, we became well-acquainted with one another's bodies during that time.

"Sure you're up to this?"

I nearly succeeded in stopping the sigh from slipping forth, glancing toward the shared bedroom. Kuwabara leaned through the threshold, weight supported by a sure grip on the trim overhead. Dressed in a simple black T-shirt and denim, he fought valiantly to exert indifference – confidence, even – though I saw the traces of worry lining his face, signs few would know to look for: the slight furrowing of his brow, nostrils flared as he struggled to regulate his breathing; three lines crept from the corners of his eyes, lines he'd developed too soon during our time as spirit detectives. Hollow cheeks darkened by a set jaw, mouth set somewhere between a frown and a smile.

After spending nearly a month in his care, I was sure of one thing – Kazuma Kuwabara would always be the kind, soft-hearted boy I met all those years ago.

"Yes." Somehow, my hands remained sure in buttoning the pale shirt, a loan made for a frame much bigger than my own. "I cannot put it off any longer."

His lips did slip into a frown then, watching as I tucked the shirt into a pair of black slacks. I could not blame him for doubting me. Though my skin no longer hinted at death and my limbs had filled out somewhat, I remained underweight, despite his and Yukina's best efforts. The fact that I now wore his clothes only added to my enfeebled appearance. Eating no longer proved itself a chore and, though apathy lingered and I still fought against self-doubt, the desire for death had passed. However, I could not blame him for his skepticism.

After all, I'd willingly done all of this to myself.

"Sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"To what end? Koenma wishes to see me personally – he's come all the way from Spirit World to do so."

For the young Prince to insist on a meeting here was unusual and the implications settled in my gut, a solid weight which refused to dissipate. Anxiety hummed through my veins and only years of tutelage from Yoko kept the emotion from creeping into my face or tainting my voice with something horrid. Koenma wished to discuss things on my terms, in a place familiar, where he had no visible power or authority:

What on earth could that mean?

"Hey."

I turned at the genkan step, caught in the act of pulling on shoes, simple white articles purchased during my stay. Thoughts flew across Kuwabara's face like so many fireflies, numerous and far too fast to catch. However, when he spoke, his tone carried a slight lilt, a smile crinkling the sides of his mouth. "Don't overthink it, okay?"

Such simple words, advice from a mind that knew my own so well. I nodded, returning his smile before letting myself out of the house.

The sun shone gloriously high above, lighting a world I hadn't set foot into for several weeks. Birds sang amid trees sighing in the breeze, their creaking calls beseeching, knowing full well I could hear. Dead leaves crunched underfoot and I took to the sidewalk, hands diving into ready pockets. I slipped from the side street onto the main thoroughfare, seamlessly becoming one in a sea of faces. This part of town had long since seen its hay-day – remnants of the industrial boom of the 70s. Still, the neighborhood businesses did well enough and, for the dull-clad commuters who could not find work here, the city's heart awaited with open arms.

An itching at my neck and I fought the urge to raise my head, knowing I would find nothing there. Neither Hiei nor Yusuke appeared during this past month, though Kuwabara had assured me they wouldn't. How my former partner convinced Koenma to agree to my staying with the human still baffled me, especially given the current relations between Human and Demon World. Despite my hosts' best efforts, I still expected the SDF to appear at any moment, ready to throw us into Spirit World's prison.

Despite our allegiance with two demon lords, the Prince maintained the right to do such.

'What do you plan to do?'

After assuring my phone was on silent, I lifted it to my ear, voice low. "That depends entirely upon Koenma."

During my stay, Kuwabara held onto this device, keeping both mother and my father-in-law at bay. At first, he maintained we were spending my vacation together, catching up after a prolonged separation. Then, when the time came to return to work, he asked for more time off on my behalf, claiming he needed my help with medical research pertaining to natural remedies. Of course, Kazuya hesitated at first, not relenting until I talked with him personally, acquitting my tired tone with having just surfaced from the pages of a book. He'd allowed me three more weeks of vacation, all the time-off I'd accumulated since beginning work for the firm.

An impossible feat had I not been his son.

'You need to call her.'

Mother's face flashed before my eyes and I sighed, tucking it away in my heart. "Later."

He fell silent, then, waiting as I slid around first one pedestrian, then another. 'What do you make of his meeting us here?'

"I don't like it." I sighed, ducking further into my shoulders, hair nearly concealing my face from curious passers-by. "What do you think? Do you have experience with this sort of thing?"

He hummed and flicked his tail, phantom fur tickling my thighs. 'Yes, though I'm not sure what the child hopes to accomplish.'

I waited as he ran clawed fingers against his face, brushing the flesh at my cheek.

'When I set a meeting in another's territory, it was for one of two reasons.' He allowed slowly, mindful of my crossing a busy street, city noise increasing with each step. 'Either to set the fool at ease and lull him into a false sense of security, or–'

Here he stopped, as if struck by a violent force. I waited for him to continue but he kept his peace, I don't know that he even breathed.

Then, before I could question him further, he smiled, the motion ghosting my lips. 'Because I knew my adversary was not to be trifled with.'

I bit back a chuckle but he laughed anyway, the bell-like sound filling my ears.

Before long, we arrived at the designated meeting place – a nondescript cafe beside a musty antique shop. Ordering a plain coffee, I smiled at the blushing barista before taking a seat in the back of the room facing the door. The place lacked personality or charm, milky tile inviting muck while whining lounge music played, a tea cup mural the white wall's only decoration. Small square tables and chairs littered the floor, none of which appeared particularly stable, seating sour-faced people who wished to be anywhere but here.

Setting down the cup carefully, I pulled at my sleeve, checking the time. Another thirty minutes until the appointed meeting, the minutes stretching forth like languid, yawning things. I knew Koenma wouldn't arrive until it was absolutely necessary and I used the time to my advantage, collecting myself, ready for whatever may ensue. He would not make a scene in public – young as he was, Koenma knew enough to care for his image – though that did not mean I wouldn't be apprehended once the meeting adjourned. Propping my chin in my hand, I watched the door, preparing for every possible scenario. Hopefully, we would talk and that would be the end of it. However, if Spirit World attempted to take me by force, I was prepared to fight.

The itch at my neck persisted, adding a modicum of comfort.

The bell sounded above the cafe's door at exactly nine. Spirit World's prince stood proudly despite the tan overcoat hiding his robes, the ever-present mafukan clenched between his teeth. Seeing the ruler in his human form was surprising, though he would not do well here under a childish facade.

He'd announced the existence of demons in his other form, anyway.

Gaze lighting upon me, he made his way to the table, an inscrutable expression on his face. Sitting with his back to the other patrons, he waved the approaching waitress away, hiding his mouth behind clasped hands. The woman's smile faltered momentarily and I dipped my head toward her, ordering a tea for my 'friend'. She nodded, lips curling even as she turned to fill the order.

Koenma continued to watch me even as the steaming drink was placed by his arm, both elbows atop the table as if he didn't know the first thing about manners. Only after the waitress left did our game truly begin, his glare never relaxing even while I drank from my own cup, face fixed into the practiced calm I'd learned from years as a caregiver. Emotion had no place when his gaze roved to the too-big clothes and abnormally pale skin, my slim face and thin limbs, despite a month's sustenance.

Then, he sighed, straightening his stooped posture. "So, Hiei wasn't lying."

The statement was quiet, meant for his edification, though that meant nothing to me. "You expected him to?"

"No, it's just – you look better than I thought you would."

I raised a brow and he shook his head, lifting the tea to his lips. After taking a gracious sip, he swallowed, staring at me over the cup's rim. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. No one believed things would come to this, that you'd–" Here he stopped, suddenly finding the green liquid fascinating. "I don't think I've ever seen Hiei so angry."

"Yukina mentioned he was upset." The sensation at the nape of my neck intensified and I bit back a chuckle, placing a fist to my mouth until the mirth passed. "We did not come here to talk about him, though."

"No, we did not." Clucking his tongue, Koenma tightened his hold on the mafukan, setting the cup aside. He apparently needed time to sort through this blunder, time I was more than willing to give. Yoko's patience waned with each passing second though I urged him to be understanding–

We had the entire day to deal with this.

Steepling his hands, the young ruler leaned forward, tone all at once hushed. "Tell me what happened."

So I did. The cafe's breakfast rush ebbed and waned during the telling but my voice remained just over a whisper, trusting Koenma to hear. He listened without a word, gaze narrowing as I described foreign sensations and all-too-familiar occurrences. Though this recounting lacked the details given to Kuwabara, when a flicker of emotion flashed across his face I pressed the point, satisfied at the pain portrayed solely for my eyes.

Yoko's approval of the practice made me strive that much more.

"I don't understand." Koenma admitted once I'd finished, staring at his clasped hands. "Foxes are solitary by nature – this shouldn't have effected you so deeply."

The porcelain mask remained, though something utterly cold crept in as I tilted my head. "You forget that I'm human as much as demon." A short gasp as he met my gaze, eyes widening ever so slightly at whatever he found there. "After all these years spent observing mankind, surely you realize the toll forced isolation can exact on a human soul?"

He knew better than to argue contact hadn't been prohibited with my family, not with the marriage being so new.

Many had perished for bringing mother up in politer conversation.

Koenma sighed, straightening. "What would you like to happen?"

"Ideally? For this entire matter to be done with. Though given the state of relations between the three worlds that's not an option."

He waited patiently as I took a sip of cold coffee, ever the diplomat. Several demands ran through my mind though I settled on the three most rational, setting the cup down. "First, Kuwabara is not to be harmed. I had no hand in calling for him, though had he not come, I would have perished – he should not be punished for such."

"Of course not!" Koenma shook his head, eyes softening to moistened honey. "Punishing him never crossed my–"

"Second," My voice overrode his, something I'm sure he was unused to. "I want the communication restrictions officially lifted between Kuwabara and I." Here he stiffened, gaze darkening. "Aside from his relationship with Yukina, he has kept limited contact with demons and has never meddled in the affairs of Demon World. In fact, aside from the Dark Tournament viewers, few know of Kazuma Kuwabara's existence."

A sad – but true – fact. Outside of our group, only a handful of demons knew of Kuwabara's involvement in shattering the wall between worlds, and each of them were loyal friends. None but us knew the extent of his power, a power he would use without hesitation to protect those he loved.

Sucking the mafukan back between his teeth, he raised a brow, a comical gesture seeing as how both eyes remained lidded. "Why?"

"As I said, humans aren't meant to be alone. Surely you can see that?" Crossing my arms, I tucked my chin, brow furrowed in challenge. "Or would you rather I involve an outsider?"

"So long as they don't find out about any of this, I don't care what you do – I have more important things to do than babysit you." The barb missed its mark, only succeeding in revealing his agitation.

"Third, I'd like the communications ban lifted in case of an emergency."

Koenma quickly schooled his face with an air of nobility before tipping his chin, gaze narrowing once more. "Such as?"

Shaking my head, I smiled, happy that scarlet locks hid my face. "He's becoming more difficult to contain." The Prince's cheeks paled at my honesty, for the moment forgetting his self-imposed superiority. "He is . . . restless, angry. And, what's more," Here I leveled him with a look, glaring through my bangs. "He blames Spirit World for everything that's happened."

A momentary silence and Koenma cleared his throat, though he could not convince the blood to return to his face. "Surely he knows better than–"

"What he does and does not know I cannot say, he doesn't tell me everything." I settled back in the chair, aware of Yoko's bristling at the condescending tone. "Though I will say if he reemerges, you are likely whom he will come after and I am not sure your forces are enough to stop him – he is far stronger now than when he entered this body. Also," The wood creaked beneath me, a smooth sound not unlike ancient branches caressed by the wind. "I cannot say for certain whether or not Yusuke and the others would be willing to kill him, not knowing I'm trapped inside this body."

He stiffened, eyes narrowing further. "Is that a threat?"

"No, simply a fact. If and when he emerges, I will have no say in what he does." Leveling him with a look, I observed his discomfort as Yoko laughed, a truly malicious sound. "In case this occurs, I need to be able to contact the others without their being punished. Surely this is a reasonable request?"

Koenma pondered a moment, staring intently at his woven fingers. Then, "How long has it been like this?"

Of all the things I thought he would ask, that was not one of them. Also, I did not expect his voice to sound so small, nor for him to age drastically with that one statement. Shoulders sagging, face lined with concentration, he appeared every bit his years in that moment. Were he anyone else I might have felt an ounce of pity for him.

However, such was not the case. "Nearly my entire life, though his attempts at reemergence have doubled recently. I'm sure you can guess why."

Koenma sighed, sinking further into his shoulders before becoming lost in thought. I allowed him that luxury, handling the waitress kindly when she made her rounds before sending her off with a smile. Spirit World's ruler remained that way for ten minutes or so, though I could not fault him for taking his time with such a decision. One of the hardest parts of leadership was deciding when and when not to make exceptions to established rules and precepts, for either could lead to rebellion.

I'd learned as much from my companion.

"Very well."

Koenma roused himself from his trance-like state, his voice coming as if from a deep well. Rolling both shoulders back, he leveled me with a look, as if trying to crawl into the depths of my soul. "Though you'll both still be under strict observation, I have no objection to you and Kuwabara maintaining regular contact. Also, if you feel you're about to lose control or some other extreme occurs, you may contact Yusuke and Hiei more than once a month. However," Here he stopped, gaze darkening. "If you do anything to endanger the integration of demons here, or if I think you're abusing these privileges in any way, you will be taken into custody immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

For the second time, I found myself biting back a chuckle. How quickly he forgot Yusuke was now a lord in Demon World, and that Hiei and myself were tied to two other lords. If Spirit World did anything rash – namely falsely imprison Yomi's chief adviser – they would not stand idly by.

"Perfectly."

'You're growing soft.'

A gentle huff of air and I shook my head, waiting for the crosswalk signal. Pulling a small book from my pocket – a random volume borrowed from Kuwabara – I pretended to lose myself in the pages, lips moving as though tracing beloved print. "No, brutality simply was not needed."

He waited for me to cross the street, allowing me to observe hesitant cars and hurried footmen beyond the paper folds, a perfectly sketched skull resting beneath my thumb. The familiar itching at my neck vanished as soon as Koenma left, though there was no reason for my friend to watch further.

I needed to thank Hiei later.

"For the time being, we need him. Though inept for one so old, I would much rather deal with him than his father. Wouldn't you agree?"

Yoko maintained his silence, though we both knew the answer. That my companion held no love for Spirit World's former ruler was no secret, and if by some misfortune Koenma were to fall, who else could take his place but the disgraced King Enma?

Surely his return would destroy the progress made these past few years.

'What will you do now?'

Another sigh before a cry reached my ears, followed closely by a blur of blue and black. Driven by reflex and a hint from my peripheral, I dropped to one knee and lunged, fingers barely finding purchase in a child's shirt before she fell into the traffic-choked street. Several gasps sounded as the girl fell back into my arms, pedestrians giving us a wide berth while the knit cap slid from her head.

The hushed hubbub faded once she glanced up at me, dewy eyes wide, hand still stretching for the street. Shifting my attention from the too-young face, I saw what she reached for so desperately: a red balloon lost to the throes of passing traffic, somehow avoiding car after car before rising to kiss the buildings above. Bobbed hair sticking to flushed cheeks, perspiration trickling down her face, though I saw no blood, bruises or scrapes whatsoever–

She was perfectly fine.

"Emiko!"

The crowd parted for a young woman only just shorter than Shizuru, flowing hair caught in a loose ponytail. Her gray coat matched her eyes perfectly, eyes frantically scanning the space before her until they lighted on us. Breath hitching in her throat, she dropped her grocery bag before darting across the pavement, scooping the girl from my lap. Doubtlessly sensing her mother's distress, Emiko soon devolved into tears, burying her face in the woman's shoulder.

I stood as she ensured the girl was unharmed, forcing a small smile while she bowed deeply and apologized, never losing hold of her daughter. Bowing in turn, I watched as she did an about-face and walked away, little Emiko lifting her head for one last glance before both blended with the pedestrian flow once more.

Yoko made no comment on the scene, though I could not quite tell how he felt about it. "I must return home soon." I whispered, bending to retrieve my fallen book. "We cannot rely on Kuwabara's hospitality forever, and I cannot put off work much longer."

He snorted, though my companion had never thought much of my current occupation.

"However, for the time being," Brushing off the cover, I slipped the book back into my pocket, gaze centered on a familiar scene some twenty feet away. "I would like something warm to drink."

The morning rush having already gone, Black Lotus appeared empty save for two employees: an apron-clad waitress busting tables and a sleepy-looking boy behind the counter. I recognized both immediately though I couldn't place their names. Management here did not believe in forcing workers to wear name tags and, after witnessing a barista harassed by a handful of office workers one afternoon, I could not argue with the decision.

After a moment of watching the two unnoticed, I cleared my throat, mildly amused as the boy jerked around to face me, a wild blush tinting his cheeks. "W-welcome to Black Lotus!" Had he really not heard the bell over the door? "How can I help you?"

I offered him a smile, one perfected from years of use. However, before I could answer him, a smooth bass filled the air. "I'll take this one, Retsu. It's time for your break, anyway."

The boy and I both stiffened, neither of us having heard him come in from the back. The owner of Black Lotus, Ebisu Higashi struck an impressive figure, easily surpassing many demons I knew in terms of physical prowess. Though Kuwabara would no doubt surpass the older man's height, my friend had no hope of attaining the scars dotting Ebisu's person, or matching the chilling aura brought by his mere presence.

I didn't need Yoko's experience to fear the power behind that easy-going facade.

Retsu hurried away after giving a short bow, fumbling fingers loosing his apron to hang on a hook before departing.

Ebisu shook his head, staring after the boy. "Good kid, though he gets sloppy when he's tired. Don't want him messing up your order." I blinked, unsure of why my order should be so important that he'd see to it personally. "What'll it be, Minamino? The usual?"

My brows rose before I could school my face into a pleasant mask. Today was just full of surprises. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Not officially, but I try to learn my regular's names. Makes for better business."

This made sense. I knew Ebisu's name only because of the tag on his vest lapel – he was the only one in the establishment who wore one.

Before I could respond, he turned, grabbing a tall cup from the rack against the wall. "Alright, one green tea with ginger and milk, coming right up!"

For once, I was glad someone purposefully put their back to me. I could not fathom the look on my face, though if Yoko's mirth was any indication it was quite humorous. He'd known what drink I wanted before it left my tongue: a simple concoction, yet not a combination those my age often chose.

Just who was this man?

I paid and took the ceramic cup, feet carrying me to the usual table at the back. For the moment, I put Ebisu out of my mind. Such knowings weren't strange when one owned a business, not really. Perhaps other entrepreneurs served their customers regularly and I simply wasn't aware of it. Content with my findings, I settled back with Kuwabara's book and my tea, ready to lose myself to the pages:

Until I saw the note.

The paper lay on the saucer, a simple folded thing no doubt hidden by the cup until now. Center slightly moistened by the warm container, my mind took its time processing the characters written in an unknown hand, ink smudged ever so slightly.

Minamino.

Yoko's curiosity peaked alongside mine as I picked it up, setting the cup down before carefully unfolding the note. Flattening the heavily creased paper atop the table, I leaned forward, reading the message with care:

If you are not to become a monster,

you must care what they think.

Mouth suddenly dry, I swallowed, taking a careful sip of tea. A slight burning in my chest and I realized I'd stopped breathing. Weeks-old phantoms came forth to haunt me: discolored takeout boxes strewn across the floor, bed sheets torn with clawed hands; nameless shadows creeping up the walls, shattered glass falling into the sink, taking away a golden-eyed stare. Spirit World's decree, Yusuke's threatening messages; Kuwabara's broad back to me on a plain somewhere between this world and the next. Monster, a silver-haired monster–

You understand, don't you?

I sighed as Koenma's voice rose and fell, wiping at my face with a napkin from the tabletop dispenser. Caring overly for what people thought got me into this mess. If I didn't care to stay in Spirit World's good graces, I would not have subjected myself to forced isolation. Yoko would have made no move to emerge, and my mental state would not have evaporated so quickly. If not for them–

'Read.'

Yoko's cool voice interrupted my thoughts, grinding the remembrance of near-death to a halt. Taking another sip of tea, I allowed myself a steadying breath before continuing:

If you care what they think,

how will you not hate them,

and so become a monster

of the opposite kind?

Mind reeling, I read the lines twice more, flipping the page over to be sure no writing remained unseen. But no, there were only those six lines, written both in Japanese and perfect English side-by-side. Raising the cup to my lips once more, I mulled over the words, a riddle I couldn't quite make out. Two different monsters – two sides of the same coin.

What on earth could it all mean?

My companion didn't know, either; mulling over each word just as I had, looking for a pattern, a code, anything. Though all that remained was the warning, as well as a question. Who would pen such a thing and, what's more, why would they leave it for me?

'Someone has been watching us.'

Instinctively, I glanced about the room with lidded eyes, taking care to make the motion appear nonchalant. However, the only ones in the cafe were the waitress washing dishes in the great sink and Ebisu, who stood polishing glasses far too elegant for this establishment. I knew Hiei had kept a watchful eye during my illness, though this was the first time in over a month I'd ventured outside. No, whoever the writer was had watched me well before I collapsed in my apartment–

And we'd both been completely unaware of it.

Downing the rest of the tepid tea, I slipped the note in my pocket before pressing a tip to the table, walking to the counter with practiced ease. Ebisu lifted the aged coffee makers' lids, checking each in turn before nodding to himself, one hand nestled in the half-apron at his waist. I waited as he wiped the faucet of the cappuccino machine and refilled the sugar bowl, dainty cubes threatening to spill from the crystal dish at any moment.

Finally, he appeared to notice me for he straightened, wiping stray specks of sugar on the black apron. "Ah, was there something else you needed, Mr. Minamino?"

"Yes, actually." Already I had the note in-hand and placed it on the counter, gaze never leaving his face. "I found this with my drink."

Retrieving a slender pair of glasses from his shirt pocket, Ebisu stared at the words through lilac-tinted lenses, raising a brow. "It's addressed to you."

"Yes, I'm aware of that." Yoko bristled beneath my skin but I pleaded patience, demanding such from myself as well. "Could you tell me who wrote it? Surely you must know something."

His demeanor didn't change in the slightest beneath my gaze, though I caught the faintest glimpse of curiosity light his eyes. "You mean you don't know?"

"No but I would like to very much." I lowered my voice a hairsbreadth and smiled, as though I were letting him in on some secret. "Whomever it is leaves quite an impression."

For a moment, I feared I'd overplayed my hand and he would not answer. Ebisu stared without blinking for several seconds, only his breath signaling he was indeed flesh and bone. Then, he sighed, removing the glasses to rub at his eyes, all while mumbling about not being a "carrier service".

He continued before I could question this, however. "Another regular – Odawara."

Odawara. I ran the name across my tongue and wracked my brain, though nothing immediately came to mind. Yoko did not recognize the name either.

"Look, if you're wondering about this, why not ask her yourself?"

Her – a woman. I did not know how to react to a woman watching me unawares though the thought caught my companion's interest. I'd thought surely an adversary waited in the wings but if Ebisu knew her, that meant regardless of who Odawara may be she was, above all, human.

The realization eased the knot in my chest. "How can I reach her? Should I leave a note as well, or–"

He held up a meaty hand, as if to dissuade me from some mundane quest. "Don't. I'm not gonna be your messenger pigeon." I waited as he wiped at the glasses lens, folding both arms before setting the accessory safely back into his pocket. "She's usually at open mic here every Thursday night. You should try then."

Ticking off days mentally, it took far longer than it should to realize today was Wednesday. "What time?"

"We officially start at seven, but people come whenever so it doesn't matter." He rolled his head atop his shoulders, neck popping with a loud 'crack'. "Odawara is usually here before seven, though."

My smile was genuine this time when I thanked him and bowed, making sure to leave a few bills on the counter.

'You have an admirer.'

"So it would seem." I sighed, pretending to lose myself in the book once more on the walk back to the Kuwabaras. "At least this does not appear to be an enemy."

'We cannot know that for sure.'

Nodding, I turned down first one street, then another, pleased that the sidewalk was noticeably empty this time of day. "If she is an enemy, I will handle her accordingly."

He hummed, claws tracing the skin at my temples. 'Why not let me? I haven't played in ever so long.'

"Could you control yourself?"

'Don't I always?'

Kuwabara's house came into view and I slowed my steps, considering his offer. "Very well. If we deem her a threat, you may handle this as you deem fit."

He smiled, a sensation powerful enough to curl my lips. 'Perfect.'

A/N: Hello and welcome back! Thank you for your patience while awaiting this update; Inktober took up much of my writing last month and now I'm playing catch-up. Thank you for those who follow, favorite and review my work! You support means so much.

Big thank you to WhatWouldValeryDo for beta-reading and being my sounding board for this story! You're the best!

Poem from this chapter is 'Enemies' by Wendell.

Okay, so a mostly-well Kurama saved a kid and met Ebisu but what's up with the note? And he gave Yoko free-reign if they deem Azumi a threat? Back to Azumi next chapter, please leave a review!