This ended up getting WAY SHIPPIER than I originally intended, but… this is for the Keirama fans out there, I guess!

References chapter 110 of Lucky Child, wherein Keiko was invited to apply to a study abroad program by one of her teachers.

Day 29: "World Class"

The paper was intended to function as a deconstruction of philosophical theory as applied to a certain work of literature, and the paper had been assigned to all members of Kurama's literature class—among whom numbered both Yukimura Kei and Kaito Yuu. Unlike most papers, however, the assigned topics were not part of the class curriculum. The teacher had instructed the class to hunt for supporting texts in the library, and since she had not forbidden the students to collaborate, Kurama and Kei trekked to the library after school to hunt down appropriate books. In short order they acquired a broad selection of possible sources, and together Kurama and Kei headed away from school and toward Kei's house, where they would write their papers in the spirit of cooperation.

Kaito would be joining them in a few hours, Kei said. His personal library housed more than one rare manuscript that could be of use to them; they'd be a fool not to ask Kaito to join forces, or so ran Kei's thinking. And Kurama was inclined to agree—against his better judgement, perhaps, but still. Normally he wouldn't want to partner with Kaito on any project (the boy was, in short, exhausting in large doses). Kurama strongly preferred to work with Kei, and Kei alone. But the promise of Kaito's personal library proved too great, and he acquiesced when Kei proposed banding all three of them together.

Alas—Kaito wasn't there yet, and loathe though Kurama was to admit it, they were struggling without him.

Kei paced the length of her bedroom on quick feet, hair askew atop her head after she'd spent ten minutes pulling at it in frustration. "This doesn't make any sense," she growled—both to him, to herself, and to the project syllabus she held in one slender hand. "Why would she ask us to write a goddamn paper on something we didn't actually learn about in class?"

"No doubt to test our abilities to gather information independently," came Kurama's even-keeled reply… but his lips twitched as he watched Kei pace, tracking her lithe movements with keen green eyes. "Though given this paper constitutes forty percent of our average for the semester, it does seem rather like overkill to give us so little direction."

"You can say that again." She stopped and cast about for something, eyes the color of splintered cedar. "Ugh, where the hell did I put that book on Aristotelian apologetics again?"

"Over here, I think." Kurama rose from Kei's bed and leaned over her desk, searching. "Let me—"

A mess of books and papers covered the desk, notes scratched in Kei's neat, spidery scrawl (the script she used when not playacting the role of dutiful student for their teachers, whereupon her writing became much neater and cookie-cutter perfect—so unlike Kei herself, Kurama thought; he much preferred her characteristic chaos). He hunted out the book she'd asked for in just a few seconds, lifting it from beneath a notebook with a flex of nimble fingers.

But when he picked it up, he stopped cold.

"… what's this?" Kurama set the book aside and lifted the paper lying under it, instead. "Kei?"

She pivoted on her heel in an adroit display of athleticism. "Hmm?"

He held the paper out.

Immediately, Kei's face fell, a hectic flush rising in her cheeks and lips. Without a word she stalked forward, swiping at the paper with one fast hand. Kurama dodged, though. He jerked the paper back and lifted a brow, staring at her in silent inquiry.

"It's nothing," Kei said, finally breaking her silence. Like an impatient teacher, she held out one expectant hand. "Give me that."

"If it's nothing," Kurama countered in smooth tones, "then why don't you want me to see it?"

"Just—because it's nothing!" Kei sputtered, blush rising hotter in her cheeks. "It's not like it's a secret!"

Again she reached for it, but again Kurama did not let her take it. He rather enjoyed the way her attention had affixed itself totally on him—a kitten zeroing in on a piece of string, ready to pounce (though of course he'd never tell her that; he somehow doubted Kei would find such a comparison flattering). Still, he had to admit she was rather cute when frustrated, nose scrunching, lip jutting in what might be dangerously close to a pout as she reached up for the piece of paper he'd begun to hold high over his head.

"It's just something Ibara-sensei wanted me to see, Kurama," Kei said, on her tiptoes as she snatched for the document. A hand alit on his shoulder for purchase; he could smell that body butter she liked to wear, herbal and sweet. "So give it back!"

"It says it's an application for a study abroad program." He held the document up higher, mischief sparkling in his bright green eyes. "Are you thinking of going abroad, Kei?"

"Not really." She gave a little hop, hand lashing through the air. "Goddamn it, Keiko has tiny little arms!" Backing away (and taking her scent with her), she looked him up and down—an assessing sort of look, and one that sent the smallest of thrills arcing up his spine. "When the hell did you get to be this tall, anyway?"

Kurama smiled. "Perhaps I've grown recently."

"Yeah, you've grown really annoying," Kei retorted.

"You wound me, Kei. Truly, I'm hurt." He tried to look mournful, though that became difficult she when rolled her eyes—a gesture that forced him to hide an amused smile. "If you're not thinking of going abroad, then why do you still have this application?"

"I dunno." Kei shrugged, eyes downcast, one toe kicking idly at the carpet in her bedroom. "Ibara-sensei thought I'd be a good candidate for the program and wanted me to think it over, that's all."

Kurama hummed an affirmative. He pretended not to see the way her eyes darted toward his hand, allowing her to leap forward and snatch the application away without protest. She flopped onto the floor and shut the paper into a book she'd been reading earlier, stuffing it into the middle while she flipped forward and thumbed through the book's index. For a moment she appeared triumphant at this success, but soon her smile faded.

"Before you get all concerned or whatever," she muttered at her book, "you should know that I don't intend to apply."

But Kurama was still thinking about what she'd said before. "You're a good candidate," he repeated, voicing each word with care. "What made Ibara-sensei think that?"

She slapped a hand over her heart, not bothering to hide the devious tint in her wide grin. "Ouch! You wound me, Kurama," she said, parroting each word of his earlier lamentation with undisguised relish. "Truly, I'm hurt."

"I didn't say I disagreed with him," he chided—but when Kei rolled her eyes, poised again to say something characteristically snarky, he changed tactics. Sitting on the floor near her, he opened his eyes wide and pinned her with a plaintive, elegiac stare. "Won't you at least indulge my curiosity, Kei?"

That did the trick. No sooner did their eyes meet than did she glance away, pink returning again to the planes of her smooth cheeks. He didn't stop staring, however. Kurama applied his wistful stare with the accuracy of a surgeon, puncturing through Kei's defenses every time she snuck a glance his way beneath her lashes. She never could withstand this kind of look for long; Kurama used it whenever he could as a result. It was far too much fun to watch that hectic blush rise in her face, not to mention the way she curled a strand of hair behind her ear, tongue swiping an agitated track along her bottom lip.

"Cut it out," Kei eventually snapped, eyes fixed steadfastly on the wall behind him. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Kurama blinked twice, innocence encapsulated (or at least that's how he looked; he and Kei both knew better). "Kei? Like what?"

"Like…" She took a deep breath but released it again just as fast, hands threading into her hair as she moaned, "Ugh, you know what! You're insufferable." To Kei's credit, she recovered quickly, pasting on an expression of humorous resignation. "Fine; I'll tell you. He said it's because I get good grades and I don't make too much trouble." Here she grinned, wide and genuine. "Secretly, though, I think it's because I do make trouble from time to time. Ship me off, make the world by classroom, they won't have to deal with me as much before graduation. Pretty clever of them, huh?"

But Kurama wasn't so sure. "I suppose," was all he said, and it earned him a Look from Kei at once.

"Damn. I know that look," she muttered. Setting her book aside, she rolled onto her knees and turned to face him, sitting in sloppy—but effective—seiza. "What's wrong?"

Kurama's smile did not touch his eyes. "Nothing, of course."

"Kurama." Kei leaned toward him, one brow arching. "It's me."

"Yes," he agreed, "it is you."

But Keiko wasn't finished. With a helpful smile she told him, "I meant that you can tell me because it's me."

"And I meant," said Kurama, "that it is about you."

She froze, the smallest of "Oh"s slipping from between her lips. Kei shook herself, scooting an inch toward him across the carpet. "So something is wrong?" she said, concern etching worried lines between her eyes. "Want to talk about it?"

Kurama—he hesitated. And hesitating was not in his nature. Thus his own hesitation gave him further pause, a vicious cycle of silences that kept him from uttering a word. Truly, he wasn't sure what to say to Kei just them. She stared at him with frank concern and raw apprehension, leaning toward him like she wanted to reach out a hand for him to hold. It was genuine, that look of hers. A far cry from his earlier playacted innocence. But he wasn't acting now, nor did he wear any affectation when he watched her toy with the hem of her sweater, fingers twisting in the cloth while she searched his face. A lock of hair curled over cheek and beneath one worried eye, a soft, mahogany caress on copper skin. He wanted to reach out and touch it, run a fingertip over that curl, tell her—

Tell her what?

A million things, surely. But none of them came to mind. Not right away, at least. Did he want to say that if she decided to study abroad, he'd support her? But no—that wasn't right. The feeling he'd gotten when he saw the study abroad application hadn't been one of support or encouragement. It had been blacker than that, a disquieting darkness that had vanished when she said she didn't want to apply to the program at all. Had that feeling been relief? Was he relieved that she didn't want to leave Japan? Had he felt relieved when he realized he wouldn't be forced to pretend to support her in that endeavor, one did he not cherish the thought of in the least?

Yes. That was what he felt. He'd felt relieved that she didn't wish to study abroad. And that realization stunned him into an even deeper silence than before, one he was not sure he understood.

All he knew is that the thought of her leaving had not made him happy.

Kurama did not want Kei to go. That was the truth of things. But it was a truth he could not quite grasp, at least not then as he stared into her concerned eyes, hesitating time and time again.

The list of people Kurama cared for had only stretched long enough to include himself, back when he first donned the guise of Minamino Shuichi. The list had lengthened by one name, and one name only, when he came to care for his human mother.

Now, though…

How long was the list now?

He got the feeling, looking at Kei, that it held at least three names now.

Kei was not a patient person by nature. When Kurama did not speak for quite some time, she sighed and reached for her book again. Carefully she opened it, not allowing the pages to reveal the study abroad application hidden within.

"All right, then," she grumbled. "Keep your secrets, wizard."

Judging by the flash of humor in her eyes, she'd told a joke he didn't understand—a common occurrence in his relationship with Kei, and one that never failed to fill him with affection under normal circumstances. This time, however, the circumstances were not normal, and he watched in solemn silence as she began to pore over her books, leaving him alone with his thoughts at last.

But he couldn't muster up the will to think—at least, not in depth. He watched her read, instead. He watched as her eyes unfocused, mind lost in the text as her hand crept to the hair on the back of her neck, twining her fingers in the short strands along her nape. One golden earring, shaped like a sleek star, glittered against the smooth copper of her skin. Her cream-colored sweater whispered against her wrist as it slipped down her arm; she looked like she'd been clad in a cloud, expression star-studded and dreamlike, lithe form curled upon the floor like a resting deer. Soon she felt his eyes on her and looked up, glancing over with a reflexive smile before looking back down at her book.

Kurama felt guilty when she smiled. He was not sure why.

And yet—words stirred upon his tongue, her name bubbling in a whisper of, "Kei?"

She didn't look up from her book. "Hmm?"

He took a deep breath. "If you wanted to study abroad…"

Her head rose at last. "Yeah?" she said, brow furrowing when she saw his expression. "What is it?"

Kurama swallowed. "When it comes to your future, you must know that I will support you in whatever you choose to do."

And these words were true, which Kei apparently recognized. "I know, I know," she said with languid certainty. "But really, Kurama, I don't intend to—"

"But," he said.

"Ah." Her eyes narrowed, lip curling in a sly smirk. "There's a but, is there?"

He didn't return her joke. "But should you choose to leave Japan," he said, not daring to hesitate and lose himself again, "I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I will—that I will miss you when you leave."

Kurama was not accustomed to feeling vulnerable. But sitting there under the power of Kei's stunned and silent stare, that was how he felt: Vulnerable. Cold. Exposed. Like he'd been caught outside as a draft descended, a cold front blowing in on the heels of an unexpected thunderstorm. Ice in his neck and throat, hands vibrating with restless energy where they rested against his thighs… how very odd, that a human made him feel that way—made him feel the way he'd avoided feeling as much as possible over the course of two lifetimes.

Vulnerable. Cold. Exposed.

… but when Kei's stunned expression morphed into a smile, and when she murmured his name like a prayer, the ice inside him thawed. It thawed enough for him to smile back at the shock in her eyes, body twisting toward her like he'd been drawn into her orbit by a magnet.

"Kurama…" The name came forward on the edge of her breath, small and helpless. "What do you—?"

Her hand wandered forward, toward his… but she never got to finish. The moment they shared, whatever its destined tenor, shattered as the door to her room swung open, admitting Kaito Yuu bearing a stack of books in his arms. Kei stiffly rotated on her knees to face him, away from Kurama like she'd been electrocuted—but Kaito had already seen how close they were sitting, if his arched eyebrow gave any indication. As Kei's ears burned brilliant red, Kaito looked between her and Kurama in turns, juggling his books into one arm so he could push his glasses up his long, thin nose.

"Am I… interrupting something?" he said (expression betraying that he knew damn well he was).

Kurama didn't smile. "Your powers of deduction are admirable, Kaito," was all he said, each word a silken bullet.

"Yeah," Kei grumbled, "but your timing sucks."

"Oh?" said Kaito, brow arching higher still. "How so?"

"Never mind." She looked at Kurama askance for a second, the briefest of stolen looks, before her face flushed red. Kei scrambled up and snatched a book off the top of Kaito's stack, burying her nose in it to hide her face. "Let's see what you brought. Hopefully it can dig us out of this hole…"

The three of them worked dutifully on their paper for the rest of the night. They did not discuss Kei's opportunity to study abroad again. But the next time Kurama visited her room, he saw no sign of the application to the program on her desk—and guilty though it made him feel, he couldn't help but experience a rush of satisfaction when he noted its welcome absence.

I swear I wrote this shippy mess while peeking between my fingers at the word processor. SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT OMGGGGG…

Messed with the prompt's wording here. "World class" made me think of Kei's offer to study abroad ("world is my classroom"), so I rolled with it. Plus, a lovely new friend of mine recently requested some Keirama, so I had the pairing on the brain… and here we are as a result.

FFnet was glitching when I uploaded chapter 28; hopefully that issue won't repeat itself when I post this installment. Many thanks to these people for battling through the site's issues and somehow managing to both read and leave a comment (a feat, truly): LadyEllesmere, CSStars, ladyofchaos, tammywammy9, Domitia Ivory, cestlavie, xenocanaan, Himemiko, Kaiya Azure and guests.