Last Chapter: The DWB Show continued, the girls' dinner party was crashed by the boys, Botan is pretty sure Hiei was singing karaoke – but then he took her to the rice fields and told her a random story about games the boys play when they think the girls don't notice. Botan fell underwater and SANK, but found herself landing in a bed and getting up to another round of darkness and oddities.


Chapter 23: Captured my Soul

Botan flattened her hands against the sliding door at her back, keeping her eyes on the wall across from her. There was no apparent source for the projection that was almost filling the wall, which made its slightly flickering appearance all the uncannier, but she had already been partly expecting to see what was displayed there. As slightly crackling music played softly from another invisible source, the wall displayed a familiar logo, and an equally familiar voice announced its significance.

"It's the DWB Show!"

Botan was starting to find the show a little creepy to watch but found herself unable to look away.

"The adventures of Dango the cat, Worthy the dog and Boring the mouse!"

A quick glance around the others told Botan they were all still sound asleep and unaware of what was going on.

"In today's episode, Worthy the dog is sad," the narrator explained, as the long-haired dog appeared on the screen with her head hanging low.

"I feel like I'm losing," she said. "Again. It's the same monster, the only difference is that this time, it has a face."

"We can still win," Boring the mouse said, appearing at her side. "I believe in you, Worthy."

"You and I aren't the ones who need support right now," Worthy said sadly, looking up. "It's him. If he doesn't survive this, we all lose."

"I did offer to help him," Boring said. "He refused my help. You heard him refuse my help."

"Yeah, he probably was right though. You need to conserve your energy. You need to be ready. I'm not sure this thing can't fly."

"That's alright. We can still pursue it if it does."

"It's not that we can't pursue it, it's more that something moving across three dimensions is a lot harder to pin down than something only moving across two dimensions."

Boring nodded.

"Do you really think Dango might die?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Worthy said, shaking her head. "He feels so far away right now. Before I could feel his energy, but I can barely feel him at all now."

"Maybe that's just because he's… In there?" Boring said.

Worthy shook her head.

"I don't know what's harder," she said softly. "Feeling his energy slipping away, or when it felt strong. When it was strong, it was that same feeling. That feeling of fighting because I had to. That feeling of trying not to feel anything, even though I was overwhelmed by everything. That feeling of trying to win something I had already lost. He hasn't accepted it's over, but maybe it already is."

"But he's so strong," Boring said. "But then again, there is so much blood."

The projected image flickered, at first so briefly, it was impossible to make out the image that was flashing onto the wall. But then the flickering slowed a little, long enough that the image blinking in and out of visibility became clearer: it was Dango the cat, suspended in the air, white fur stained almost entirely red with blood, and ten black blades pierced right through him, holding him aloft, the projected image almost as big as Botan herself.

"I didn't think I'd ever have to watch this happen again," Worthy said when the screen finally stopped flickering, and focused back onto the dog and the mouse. "And it is worse the second time around. It's worse because I already know how it ends, and I feel even more helpless, and I'm more able to help this time and I should be able to help, but I still just have to watch."

"Is there really nothing else we can do?" Boring asked.

Worthy tilted her head, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"There's one thing I haven't tried yet," she said. "I didn't want to have to do it in front of my brother, but we're running out of options. I think… I think I'm going to have to tell her the truth. I think if I can make a connection – Dango said he needed to make a connection – I can bring her back. I just… Didn't want to ever have to relive this. I've never spoken about it before, to anyone. I just try not to think about it most of the time. But I think reliving it, retelling it, is the price I have to pay to end this."

The projection snapped off, leaving the room in semi-darkness and a still silence. Genkai's temple was usually quite a soothing place to be, but the atmosphere felt tense, almost electric, and Botan wanted to get out. She looked around her friends again, all still sleeping, their peaceful faces and rhythmic breathing seeming like a soothing visual and yet doing little to unnerve her. She carefully and quietly turned around on the spot, sliding open the door again and stepping out into the hallway beyond. She reached her hands behind her back and slid the door closed behind her, before starting down the hall. In her socks, her footsteps were virtually silent against the wooden floors, making it all the easier to keep her exit as stealthy as she wanted it to be.

Before long, she had reached the front door, and, after she slid it open, she was surprised to find that it looked like the middle of the day outside, with the sun high in the sky. The air was warm and smelled of spring blossoms, a gentle breeze bringing with it the green scent of the forest. It was a welcoming air, and she gladly stepped outside into it, moving down the steps and onto the lawn. She turned into the breeze, inhaling deeply and walking through it. It felt easy, it felt soothing, it felt right.

She continued across the lawn and into the trees at the edge of the property, moving through them and up a slope until she reached the other side: the end of the tree cover and the peak of the mountain. The rice fields looked glorious, pools of perfect blue. Where the breeze was rippling the surface of the water, white sparkles of sunlight twinkled over the peaks in the water's surface. She inhaled deeply and sighed: but the feeling had changed.

That smell was back.

Botan sniffed tentatively at the air. It was that pink smell. That smell of the pink stuff Keiko had in pretty bottles in her bedroom. It had a cosmetic purpose, but the exact purpose escaped her in that moment. But it was also a smell that occurred in other places, stemming from other sources. Botan moved to the very edge, lining her toes up to the first cut down to the first row of fields, and dared to inhale deeply again.

Nail polish remover, she thought to herself as she sighed out the air again. It was the scent of nail polish remover.

And something else.

Botan looked about the bright, colourful valley before turning around and slowly moving back towards the trees. Halfway between the fields and the trees she stopped, tilting her head slightly as she tried to remember. Visually, it was almost impossible to tell, but she could feel herself being drawn in the direction she needed to go, and side-stepped a few times before continuing to the start of the trees. She paused again there, before taking a few more steps to the side. Then again, she felt as much as saw, that she was moving in the right direction, as the air became distinctly colder. She took two more steps to the side, each step bringing a pointed drop in temperature and a shift in lighting.

She stopped, on a point where the cold was almost unbearable. She looked up, up the length of the trees in front of her, to the sky above. It was dark, but not fully dark, more as though the sun had just set, or was just about to rise.

The smell was stronger.

Botan inhaled and closed her eyes, and her mind showed her only one thing: corpses. It was the smell of death. It was that strange smell that lingered around humans close to death, the smell of unbalance in the body.

It was coming from the body behind her.

Botan lowered her head, looking into the trees before her. She could leave. She could run back through the trees, back down the other side of the mountain, back to the temple, and back into the room she had woken up in. In the cold, cold place she now found herself, the thought of crawling back into bed was tempting, but she already knew that would not happen. She knew that she would turn around. And she knew what was behind her. She could not see it, but she had already seen it in her mind.

Slowly, she turned on the spot. The sky behind her was semi-dark, and although dulled by the hints of sunlight, the sky was extraordinarily filled with stars. Once she had turned to the point where her back was turned completely to the trees, she saw it. From her vantage point, it was just a ragged shadow, suspended in the air, a short distance from the dip of the mountainside. Botan found herself aware then that she was still just wearing socks, and the ground felt hard beneath her feet, the grass wet, hints of damp seeping through the stitching and reaching her feet. She felt it would be uncomfortable to walk forwards from where she stood, but she did so regardless, moving towards the flying shadow that was drawing her in.

She moved until she reached the edge, lining her toes up with the cutaway edge of the drop down to the first row of fields. The shadow was still out of her reach, about level with the third row down, but it was at the same height as Botan herself, hanging in the air, motionless. Botan looked down, seeing her own face reflected back up at her in the water. She shuffled forwards, curling her toes over the edge, gripping into the turf to steady herself, before looking up again, towards the shadow. As she watched it, one of her questions was answered: apparently it was dawn and not dusk, as the sky was oh-so-gradually lightening. As the stars faded out of existence and the sun crept up towards the top of the mountains, light began to spill into the valley of rice fields. When the golden sunlight hit the top of the shadow, it still appeared black. The light slowly spread downwards, revealing that most of the figure was black anyway.

Hiei always had preferred dressing in black.

His eyes were open, but his pupils large and unfocused, his head tilted downwards. His black clothing made it hard to see, but he was covered in blood. It was dripping from him, slowly, gradually, from the toes of his boots, which were the lowest point of his body. He was suspended by an invisible force, his shoulders at a slightly awkward angle, but otherwise his entire form was limp.

He looked like he was dead.

"Hiei?" she said quietly.

The sunlight edged up a little further, and she could see there were two distinct lines of blood, glistening and fresh, down either side of his nose.

"Hiei?" she said again. "Hiei, are you okay? Can you hear me? Hiei?"

"Botan?"

Botan clutched her hands to her chest and let out a whimpering gasp at the sound of his voice – husky, faint, raw – saying her name.

"Hiei, you're hurt!" she said.

"Don't-don't think about that," he said, his mouth barely moving as he spoke.

His eyes moved a little, just enough to look directly at her, his pupils regaining a little bit of light as they focused onto her eyes.

"I need you to listen," he said. "Carefully."

"I'm listening," she replied.

Botan held her breath as a hand appeared on Hiei's left shoulder, and, before her very eyes, a person that hand belonged to phased into existence, apparently sitting in mid-air at Hiei's side.

"Shizuru?" Botan whispered.

"Botan sweetie, can you hear me?" Shizuru asked.

Botan nodded. Shizuru looked sad and worried. She stared at Botan for a long moment before turning her head to Hiei.

"Can she hear me?" she asked him.

"Yes," he answered.

"I can hear you, Shizuru!" Botan quickly added.

Shizuru moved her eyes back to Botan and smiled, letting out a small, breathy laugh: but her eyes were filled with a sadness that was difficult to behold.

"Sweetie, I have to tell you something," she said. "And it's really hard for me to tell you this. It's something I've never told anyone. I never wanted to tell anyone. But I need to tell you. Now. Before it's too late."

"Too late?" Botan repeated.

Shizuru nodded, and her eyes thinned a little, blurring slightly as though she was desperately holding back tears.

"I've lied to you," she said sadly. "I've lied to everyone. Well, I don't know if it's exactly a lie, it's more like everybody made an assumption, and I never told them they were wrong."

She gulped audibly, her throat visibly moving with the strain of the action.

"Everyone thinks that Kazuma and I inherited our spiritual awareness from our dad," she continued. "Because our dad is pretty aware. He's certainly more aware than the average human. And spiritual awareness is an inherited trait. But our dad wasn't the one who made us strong. If anything, he was the one who made us weak. Because my dad, my brother, me… You put us all together, and it would still be nothing compared to the gift my mom had."

Botan's face fell. She had never heard Shizuru talk about her mother before. She had never asked, partly because there were no photos of her mother in the house, and no member of the Kuwabara family had ever volunteered any information on her. Literally the only thing Botan did know was that the siblings, Shizuru and Kazuma, both had the same mother.

"My mom was so gifted," Shizuru said. "She drew spirits of all kinds to her. And, just like most other people who have that sort of gift, she sought out others who shared her gift. That's how she met my dad. In college, they both joined a group of people who all thought they were psychics. My mom and dad were the only two in the group who could actually see spirits and demons, and that was what brought them together. My mom was never scared of her gift. At least, not until she had me. She said she never thought about it until I woke her up one night crying, and she found a demon in my room. She started to panic. And it got worse after she had my brother. My dad sent her to counselling, but it didn't help, because nobody believed her or understood what she was seeing. So my dad treated her the only other way he knew how: he introduced her to pot."

Shizuru paused, turning her head away from Hiei and appearing to look at something for a moment as she swiped her free hand at the corner of one eye.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," she whispered, before turning back to Botan. "They did it together. And when my mom got high, she felt calm. And my dad thought that was the end of all their problems. The truth was, that was just the beginning. Over the years, gradually, really, really gradually, my mom would get more mellow than my dad, and she would be affected a lot longer than he was. It built up so gradually, that he didn't notice it. The first sign he got that something was wrong was when he noticed she couldn't straighten one of her legs one day. She wore stockings most of the time, so the veins in the back of her knees were an ideal place to inject heroin unnoticed. The pot had helped her, but it was never strong enough, she said. She'd gone out looking for something stronger, and she found it. The crazy thing is, that first night my dad found out, he agreed she could continue doing it. She convinced him she had it under control, that it gave her peace, it let her be a "normal" mother to her children. He loved her so much and he was so laid back, he just went with what she said."

Shizuru looked down for a moment, her long hair falling over her face. She snivelled a little, her hand on Hiei's shoulder gripping into him a little before she lifted her head again, a smile so sad on her face that Botan found so hard to look at, she felt herself start to tear up.

"Then she started spacing out," Shizuru continued. "For long, long periods of time. I would come home from school, and she would be lying on the couch, all her equipment on the floor around her. Most of the time she'd vomited on herself. I would tell Kazuma to go find the cat and bring it in, and I used the time to clean her up, hide her stuff, throw a blanket over her. I never let my brother see it. He wouldn't have understood. And it was around this time my dad started to switch off too. He didn't want to admit how bad it was getting. He didn't want to tell her no, to tell her to stop, but at the same time, he didn't want to see her the way I almost always found her. So I had to start hiding it from my dad too. I would come home, clean her up, cover her up, hide her stuff, send Kazuma to feed the cat and do his homework, and I would do the housework before my dad came home from work. That was about the time I started to fall behind with my own homework and my own school work. Pretty soon, I could tell in the morning what sort of day it would be. I would know if I could go to school for the whole day, or if I would need to sneak out early, or if I would need to just walk Kazuma to school and turn around and go home.

"I was ten years old – which is crazy when I think about it – when it happened. The day started out pretty bad. My dad didn't say anything. I made breakfast for him and for my brother and myself, I made a lunch for my dad and my brother, I saw my dad into his car and I walked my brother to school. I went straight back home. And when I got home, my mom was passed out on the couch. I was expecting that. What I wasn't expecting, was that she'd stopped breathing."

Botan touched a hand to her mouth as a tear slid from one of Shizuru's eyes and she drew in a shuddering breath.

"I was ten years old," she said. "I was just a kid. I tried to revive her. I tried so hard. I called for an ambulance, and they had to call our neighbours in to help get me off, because I never stopped trying. But it didn't work. She was gone. My dad came home from work. The only thing he said to me was that he wanted to tell Kazuma. He didn't want me to do it. And he did. He told Kazuma that mom's heart stopped beating. That was all he said. That was all he needed to say to a kid. And, that was probably the last thing my dad said for months. He stopped functioning. He would stay in bed all day. I took over getting my brother ready for school, looking after the house, shopping for groceries. I missed most of school, and, over the next few years, I failed my way out of school altogether. I always wanted to be a mechanic. I was gonna work on motorbikes. But I didn't have the education or the time for it any more. I had to take any work I could get, because my dad couldn't hold down a job for the next several years. I never spoke about it, because my dad couldn't handle it, and my brother didn't understand it. And I wanted to protect them from the pain I felt.

"Now you probably think you know why I'm telling you this, but you're wrong. Nobody else here is saying anything, but I know what they're thinking. And what they're thinking is the reason why I've never told anyone any of this before: they think I'm mad at my mom. They think I hate her. They think I resent her. I lost my childhood, right? I lost my dream. I was forced to become a wife to my father and a mother to my brother. I was forced to become an adult overnight. I must hate her, right? Because she chose to do heroin. Nobody else made her do it. It was totally her own decision. She researched it, went out and found it, and abused it to the point that she lost herself and then we lost her. But that's the thing, Botan. I'm not mad. It doesn't matter that she was an addict: she was my mom, and I love her. And Botan, sweetie, I would give anything to bring her back. I don't care what I went through, or what I lost. I just want my mom back.

"I pretend that I'm okay with it, but really, it was tough growing up with two men. I didn't have a mom to talk to about all my problems. And that's why I value so highly the relationships I have with the girls in my life. When you were talking about us, when you said we're like sisters, that meant so much to me, sweetie. Because I feel that way too. You, Keiko and Yukina are so important to me. We are a complete unit, the four of us, and if even one of us falls, the whole dynamic changes. We all need each other. We all need you, Botan. And we're not mad at you. We love you. And we just want you back. Please, Botan, I lost my mom to addiction, please don't make me lose you the same way. Please just come back to us. Nobody's mad at you, nobody blames you. We all love you and we all just want you back, with us, being your usual, zany, voyeuristic, random, feisty, cheerful self."

Shizuru swiped her free hand at both sides of her face to clear tears she was freely shedding.

"I love you too, Shizuru!" Botan wailed.

Shizuru smiled – but again, it was that sad, almost painful smile.

"Botan, sweetheart, can you see me?" she asked.

"Yes," Botan said, nodding her head enthusiastically. "I can see you!"

Shizuru held out her free hand, palm upturned.

"Can you see my hand?" she asked.

"Yes!" Botan said.

"Then take it," Shizuru said. "Take my hand, and come home with me."

Botan nodded and reached out her hand towards Shizuru's. They were still too far apart, but, stretching her arm out, their hands seemed to be moving closer together. It was slow, but an unseen force seemed to be drawing them together. The sun was rising higher and the valley was starting to glow, the fields were turning blue as the sky lightened overhead, and Botan could feel the warmth of the sun.

There was something in the water.

Botan's eyes were still on Shizuru, but, in the watery field between them, she could see not only the reflection of their hands, moving ever closer together, but also the reflection of something else. Something long, black, glistening, that came to a tapered point.

Botan looked down.

And then she immediately looked up: it was right above her head.

She was looking up at the underside of it. It was triangular, just like it always had been. A hollow triangular shape. Like a long, straight talon. But the sharp blades the two sides of the hollow triangle formed were not smooth, they were jagged, like little teeth that curled backwards.

The black blade was deigned to stab in, to glide in, but then cause massive damage on the way back out, as those little serrated hooks tore through skin and flesh.

"No," Botan said faintly, shaking her head.

"It's okay sweetie, don't look at it," Shizuru said. "Just take my hand. Just come with me. It can't hurt you, I promise you are safe. Please just take my hand."

Botan's hand began to shake, but she focused her attention back onto it, stretching out her fingers. She saw a shadow forming over Shizuru's upturned palm and dared to smile, dared to believe that she was almost close enough to grab on.

But then the tip of black blade, the pointed, thin, tip, touched the base of Shizuru's palm, just above her wrist.

"Come on, Botan!" Shizuru urged. "Just a little further!"

"No," Botan gasped as the tip of the blade pierced, slowly, slowly, into Shizuru's skin.

Shizuru did not so much as flinch when she first began to bleed. The tip of the blade was so thin, so small, barely more than a needle: but it quickly widened, and those serrated teeth quickly grew. And, as the blade slowly, slowly pushed under her skin and began to push up her wrist and forearm, she broke.

Shizuru cried out and gripped her hand into Hiei's shoulder.

"Let go, you idiot!" he shouted at her.

She cried out a ragged "no", but her face was contorted in agony and the blade was starting to tear open her wrist and forearm as the tip passed the bend in her elbow and moved into her upper arm.

"Stay back!" Hiei yelled over his shoulder.

Shizuru let out a cry that made something inside of Botan snap. She screamed out herself and leapt up, grabbing the black blade in both hands. Hiei began shouting at her frantically, telling her to stop, but she could barely make out his words. She tightened her grip around the blade, the two sharp, serrated edges biting into her palms, blood freely spilling down over her wrists. With one hand positioned slightly in front of the other, she let out another ferocious cry of desperation, releasing every ounce of spirit energy in her body into her hands. Her hands flared white and she began twisting one hand down and the other up. The blade creaked in her hands. She paused only for a moment, when she felt a dull pressurising pain in one finger, but it passed quickly, adrenaline and desperation overriding any other sense, and, with one more cry, she twisted her hands forcefully, snapping the blade into two.

The base of the blade retracted out of Botan's left hand with a horrifying shriek, and the end she had broken off fell out of her grip. The sun vanished, the sky turned dark and Hiei and Shizuru dissolved out of existence. Botan took a step forwards, stumbling into the water, slipping in, finding herself submerged to her waist. She looked all around herself for any sign of Hiei or Shizuru, only looking down once she was sure she was alone.

Her hands were so covered in blood it almost looked like she had lost a finger.

Botan looked up again, looking at what she was sure was the point where Shizuru had been sitting in the air. She waited for a moment before screaming out a desperate cry of "no". Although she could no longer see her friend, she could still almost feel that she was in pain, that blade still embedded in her arm.

Botan looked about herself, but her mind was focused on just one thing: there was only one thing left for her to do.

She bent her legs, submerging herself up to her chin, before launching herself up and flipping over so that she could dive under.

This time she rocketed down into the dark, dark depths of the water: and this time, she actively swam towards it.


Next Chapter: Botan finds herself in a new world, one that is dark and warped and unpleasant. She appears to have been maimed, and the pain of her injury is her only comfort in the place she finds herself. After catching up with the latest episode of that odd cartoon, Botan bumps into Hiei: but what starts as a pleasant encounter becomes strange and strained, and, finally, Botan finds herself somewhere truly terrible, somewhere she had only ever heard about in Spirit World legend. Chapter 24: You Need to Wake up