Extra: Mask

Urameshi Ryuji was always good at seeing through people's masks. He knew when his father was pretending to be happy, he was actually worrying that he was not aging like his wife. He knew that his mother seemed happy for the paths they chose in life, but that she worried Kimiko would end up dead working for Koenma and that he would end up dead somewhere alone in the Makai. He never had to guess how Kimiko felt about him going to the Makai; she wore her angry heart on her sleeve. He knew how to stare at a woman and flash the right smile, the right compliments, and the right gestures to wrap her around his finger, and soon the rest of him.

The day Hiei arrived to take him to the Makai, he knew his uncle's mask was far deeper and stronger than most people. It would take years to unravel to understand the barriers guarding deep self-loathing and sacrifice.

The day he saw Shana as a grown woman with vibrant eyes, luscious curves, a smile that made his heart stop, his mask shattered. He didn't know it then, but he knew now. He never needed a mask around her.

But he used it anyway. At first, he didn't know what he was doing. Fear, mixed with confusion, and longing developed over the years into an almost unbearable desire. After all, she assumed his mask was his face, and maybe after so long, it was. So he would maintain his cracked mask around her, until she was truly out of his grasp. She deserved better than someone who lived a lie.

But Mîrvana was seemingly different. She, like his uncle, wore a deep, strong mask. He observed her as she walked with purpose and intent, as though she was there beside them all along. He observed her as she interacted with his uncle, both of their cold masks in place as they struggled to understand who exactly was standing there. Her observed her as she laughed with Yukina and as she flirted playfully with Kurama. He paid attention as she addressed him, assuming a mentor role.

It took a few months, but then he understood what was behind her mask. He expected it to take years, like his uncle, and it probably would have if he hadn't found her in the dungeons.

Yukina was worried about her being down there for so long, considering that was where they were cornered in the Great Fire before Shana pulled them out. So Ryuji ventured down, not really sure what he was going to find. He didn't go down to this part of the fortress often, he didn't really have a need to, but he knew his way around well enough.

He remembered where Mîra's old potion room was from the few times he found Hiei down there, scribbling away with Kurama, attempting to figure out the portal's secrets. Ryuji didn't think it would work, as much as he wanted it to for his uncle's sake, and he turned out to be right in the end.

This time, instead of scribbling, he heard an awful, raw sound that he never expected. Cautiously walking into the room, he saw that Mîra pulled out everything from the diligently packed trunk. Large old books, empty vials, vials full of various colors, and herbs were scattered everywhere. He didn't care about those items, however. Instead, his gaze fixed on the figured hunched on the floor. Her back was to the far wall, her knees propped up and pulled against her chest. One of her arms wrapped around her legs tightly while the other clutched a journal, and her dropped mask was hidden by her knees.

She could hide her face, but not the way her body shook and the raw noises coming from her throat as she sobbed.

Gently, Ryuji pried the journal from her hands. She didn't put of much of a fight and her arm returned to her body, wrapping around her legs tightly; she created a small cocoon of misery and refused to crack it open.

Ryuji scanned the last few pages of the journal, reading his uncle's final frustrated and hopeless attempts for answers. He set the journal aside and did the only thing he figured he could do. He slowly sat down next to her, and wrapped his arms around her.

The pain, suffering, and anguish of her cries gave him the answers he desired from observing her mask, and, in some way, he felt more connected to her than he did before.

Thinking back to that moment, as he argued with Shana again, her mask ignored as hurt and anger seeped through her, he wondered if his mask was too deep for Shana to understand. He wondered if that was why after she left him standing there with his heart breaking again, Mîra came up and pulled him to her chest. This time, it was his turn to hide his face.

He wondered if he would ever learn how to destroy his mask.