SATURDAY
Hiei and Kurama rose the next day at a time when only birds and bakers are awake. Hidden somewhere behind the curve of the planet, the sun was nowhere to be found. It was the darkest hour, right before dawn, and due to some unfortunate twist of destiny, Hiei was pulling on clothes and shoving his belongings into an overnight bag. He stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth when Kurama was finally through with his daily beauty ritual. Still barely conscious, he almost squirted hand lotion onto his toothbrush before Kurama popped through the doorway and saved him.
While Kurama checked and double checked the contents of their luggage, Hiei sat on a stool by the kitchen island and stared through the glass terrace door at the slow rise of the sun. Too tired to even be hungry, his mindless gaze flew for kilometers, past the roofs of buildings... antennas... satellite dishes... air conditioning units...
"Don't fall off the stool," Kurama warned. "Cleaning up your blood would make us late."
Hiei's reactionary blink was so slow, he appeared to be caught in some kind of time warp.
"What?" he mumbled.
Kurama laughed lightly through his nose, then zipped up the bag he'd been checking.
"I think I have just enough time to brew some tea to help wake us up," he said.
The hot black tea that washed down Hiei's throat did succeed in rousing him, and soon he was a sentient being once more. Unfortunately, the process of coming to his senses brought with it the reminder that he would soon be locked in a car with Kurama's family for several hours. He scowled as he gulped down his last sip of tea and his brow wrinkled harshly.
Kurama was sitting on the other stool, sipping at his tea more leisurely and admiring the heavy, blue jewel that hung from his neck. The hoshi no tama Hiei acquired during his excursion with Shiori reflected the rays of the approaching sun as Kurama turned it over in his hand. At some point, he had found the time to string the gem onto a thin, silver chain. Circles of pure white light bounced from his palm to the ceiling to create a show as brilliant as the fireworks over Disneyland the night before. With Kurama's aura accentuating it, it appeared nearly as magnificent as it must have when it possessed its own power, long ago.
When he was through toying with his prize, Kurama took his last sip of tea and rinsed the cups in the sink. He strode to the door, expecting Hiei to follow. He held out Hiei's bag to him while he stepped into his shoes, and was met with an apprehensive glare.
"They won't miss me..." Hiei muttered.
"You know that's not true," Kurama insisted. "My parents were very particular when they invited us. They're both expecting you to come along."
Hiei growled softly, a rumble that vibrated in his throat, then snatched the bag.
"Hiei..." Before Kurama picked up his own suitcase, he rested both hands on Hiei's shoulders. "If you could tolerate a crowd of thousands at Disneyland, you'll be able to survive a weekend with my family. Plus, from what I understand, my step-father's parents live in a rural area, on private property that extends into the woods. You'll have plenty of space to keep to yourself, if you desire."
Once Kurama finally got him out the door, Hiei procrastinated all the way to the train station, as though his feet were glued to the sidewalk. He stopped to tie his shoes twice, and even asked whether or not Kurama had forgotten anything in the apartment, though he knew full well the fox was as fully prepared as ever. Hiei had seen children behave in much the same manner on the way to school, loitering and lollygagging, and he felt foolish. His dislike for Kurama's uncomfortably friendly step-father, and by extension his relatives, was so intense, though, only the promise he had made to himself not to be outdone by humans kept him on track. At least at Tokyo Disneyland, or at the park, or in a restaurant, he was anonymous. Trapped in a house with people who knew him and would judge him was another matter. Their expectations would be much higher. Sheer willpower would have to pull Hiei through.
He had to shake the disbelief that he was visiting Hatanaka's house twice in the same week when they finally arrived. Kurama's parents were in the driveway, piling luggage into a large vehicle Hiei had never seen before. His step-brother was in the middle row of seats already, apparently tuning out the world with a pair of headphones.
"Hey! Look who's finally here!" Hatanaka laughed. He paused to shake his head, tossing in a mocking smile. "We thought you might have gotten lost!"
Hiei grimaced. They hadn't even said 'Hello', and already, the endless barrage of cringe-worthy jokes was upon him. He recalled that Kurama had said America was twenty-four times larger than Japan, and he was glad he wasn't there, for being trapped in a car with Hatanaka for twenty-four times longer than he had to might result in a murder.
"Sorry we're late. There was a," Kurama flashed Hiei a subtle look, "delay at the train station."
"That's all right, Shuuichi," Shiori comforted. "Just toss your bags in the back with everything else and we can get going."
"We decided to rent a van," Hatanaka announced, as though that was an accomplishment of which to be proud. "It's a Mercedez, what do you think?"
"It's very... roomy," Kurama said encouragingly. He glanced into the van's interior and Hiei peered over his shoulder at the tan upholstery and wooden accents on the side panels. "I anticipate our trip will be a comfortable one."
"Always arrive in style!" Hatanaka exclaimed. "Isn't that right, Hiei?"
"I wouldn't know," Hiei huffed.
He climbed into the rear row of seats, as far as possible from Hatanaka's station at the steering wheel, and waited while Kurama helped load the remaining bags, which seemingly contained every item in the house.
"Hiei and Shuuichi can brood in silence together," he heard Kurama say outside the car, followed by his mother's airy laugh.
So far, Kurama's younger step-brother had failed to pay them any attention. Hiei could hear the tinny sounds of music blasting from the headphones, rendering the boy completely deaf to his surroundings.
"Oh, he's finally entered that rebellious teen phase," Hatanaka joked as he hoisted another one of Shiori's suitcases into the back of the van. "I went through the same thing when I was in high school!"
"My Shuuichi went through his rebellious stage in elementary school," Shiori said slyly. "I used to get a call from his teacher almost every day."
Kurama could not admit that his childhood superiority complex had its roots in his history as a demon. Hiei knew it hadn't been easy for him to reconcile the memories of a thousand year old thief with the expectations placed on a young, human child.
"Everyone experiences an awkward phase," Kurama said, smiling to cover up his discomfort.
"He'll snap out of it when he starts filling out university applications," Hatanaka said. When he and Kurama had loaded the final bag into the van, he slammed the hatch shut with a loud thunk.
"Shuuichi doesn't intend to join us at the firm?" Kurama asked.
"He wants to be a biochemical engineer," Shiori said. "Your interest in science really rubbed off on him."
Hiei had no clue what a biochemical engineer did, but the title sounded important. He couldn't imagine the human teen who he first encountered as a child amounting to much of anything. Shuuichi was as dimwitted as his father, though marginally less annoying. His main redeeming trait was that he had always idolized Kurama, so Hiei supposed he should not write the boy off entirely.
Shiori and her husband slid into the front seats, while Kurama climbed into the back.
"I'm sure he'll do well in whatever field he pursues, as long as he applies himself," Kurama said, nudging his brother as he passed him on his way to the empty seat beside Hiei.
Shuuichi lifted his head in confusion when he felt the jab, and spotted his parents turning around to smirk at him. He tugged the headphones from his ears and looked back and forth between them.
"What?" he asked. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, son!" Hatanaka chuckled. "Just buckle up and enjoy the ride!"
After navigating traffic for almost an hour, the van reached a four lane highway, which eventually gave way to narrow, winding roads through the mountains. Skyscrapers became rocky cliffs. Telephone poles turned to lanky trees. Flowers dotted the shrubs that grew alongside the road. Hiei yearned to open up the windows and breathe in the clear air and the aroma of life, but Hatanaka insisted on using the air conditioner.
As the van wound around a hillside reinforced with a slanted concrete wall, their destination finally came into view. The town was a 'blink-and-you'll-miss-it' community, only a few main streets, lined with houses, a fire station, and a general store. Hatanaka took a sharp turn up a one lane road towards the encroaching forest. Near the crest of the hill, they turned onto a lane that was little more than a dusty rut in the grass, and stopped before a very wide, very old house.
Hiei resisted the urge to shoot out of the van like a bullet the second the tires ground to halt. He waited until Kurama hopped out into the driveway to emerge, then loped along the path a few paces to take in his surroundings. Cicadas buzzed above the creak of the trunk opening up again and the shuffle of Kurama and his step-father unloading the luggage. Above the house, a swift gust of wind blew through the leaves of the canopy and hissed like the clatter of rain on a roof.
Two humans emerged from the front entrance a moment later. Hiei saw the elderly woman who rounded the front of the van first, and she saw him. From her worn, leather face peeped two dark eyes that stared him down. Hiei got the distinct impression she was attempting to level him into the ground with her glare, but she said nothing, not until Hatanaka plowed into her with a sloppy hug and squeezed her against him.
"Mom, I'd like you to meet my step-son, Shuuichi. He's been working as my right hand man at the firm," he announced. "Shiori you know, of course, and this young man is Shuuichi's boyfriend, Hiei."
With that, Hatanaka turned around and winked at Kurama as though he was doing him a tremendous favor by saying this.
"Thank you for inviting us into your home," Kurama said, and bowed gently towards her.
"It's so good to see you again," Shiori added. She greeted the old woman, and then the man behind her, who Hiei had nearly forgotten during his attempt to decipher the woman's harsh expression.
"It's always a pleasure to see you, Shiori," she replied, and her husband echoed her.
"Always a pleasure."
Hiei grabbed his own suitcase and followed the family inside, under the eave of the clay tiled roof and into the genkan. He took off his shoes before pursuing the old couple through a maze of sliding fusuma panels, until they reached a small tatami room along the left side of the house. Hatanaka's mother stopped abruptly and opened up the door.
"Shuuichi and the others can sleep in here," she said. "Kazuya, you and Shiori can sleep in your old room down the hall."
Kurama looked somewhat taken aback at being relegated to the rank of 'other', but smiled gratefully and entered the bedroom to set down his bag. His younger brother flung his own luggage into the corner. His headphones were still hanging around his neck.
"Hey, I'm going to walk into town and see if any of the guys I met last summer are around," he told Kurama. "Don't let Grandma and Grandpa bore you to death or anything."
"I'll be careful," Kurama laughed. "Have fun."
He turned to Hiei.
"I don't mind unpacking our things," he said. "I'm sure you want to stretch your legs as well."
With a slight shrug, Hiei left and began wandering the house. The storm shudders had all been opened to welcome the calm summer weather, and the living area was full of light. A classic wooden post design, with shoji screens all along the exterior wall, the dwelling was an old one. Only the toilet and kitchen, stocked with electrical appliances and a range, had been modernized.
Hiei passed by the family's kamidana shrine, which was set up on a high shelf against the wall, and wondered what kind of deities Hatanaka's parents believed might be nearby. He heard footsteps approaching while he stared, and glanced down the hall to see the man himself approaching him. Hatanaka smiled up at the shrine and placed his hands on his hips.
"My parents have always been sticklers for tradition" he said. "But it's a beautiful house, isn't it, Hiei?"
"I suppose so," Hiei said quietly. For once, he had no reason to disagree.
"Rooms like the kitchen have been torn apart, rebuilt, and remodeled over the years, but it's still the home I remember," Hatanaka went on. "My brothers and I used to explore those woods in the back every day, catching beetles and building forts out of sticks. My youngest brother even swore he saw a ghost once!"
Hiei glanced through the open shoji screen into the garden.
"If only things like that were real, right?" Hatanaka asked. "It would certainly make life a lot more interesting!"
He clapped Hiei on the shoulder before he vanished back down the hallway.
Kurama's younger brother was still in town, presumably catching up with his friends, when everyone else sat down for lunch and tea. A rectangular chabudai table, twice the size of the folding table Kurama had at home, was the focal point of the dining room. Hiei leaned his elbows against the dark wood, which was dinged with age but still polished and smooth. He let his bowl obscure most of his face as he slurped down miso soup, partly to swallow the salty broth quickly, but mostly to hide from the endless, suspicious leer glowing in the black eyes of Hatanaka's mother.
Every so often during the meal, Hiei lifted his head to see if she was still staring. Sure enough, he spotted her shriveled mug aimed right at him, nostrils flared as if there was an offensive smell under her small, flat nose. She only looked away when drawn into conversation with her son or daughter-in-law.
Her husband, seated beside her, might have been looking just as intently at Kurama as she scowled at Hiei, but the lids of his eyes were so squinted, it would be a wonder if he could see at all. Complementing his eyes, the old man's wide, still mouth made him resemble a pleased frog. Once, Hiei thought he was going to contribute to the discussion, but he merely raised his arm and scratched the thistle white tuft of hair on the back of his scalp.
Hiei escaped from the house while Kurama, Shiori, and Hatanaka's mother cleared the table. He snatched up his shoes from the genkan and then slipped out the back, into the rear garden. The yard was meticulously cared for, the features of the landscape arranged around a large pond. He walked around the pond's edge, following the source of the water until he found a natural spring trickling down from the hill behind the house. From there, he was able to look through the shrubs that grew thick on a tiny island in the center of the pond. A small wooden bridge connected the dot of land to the rest of the garden.
One swift hop took Hiei sailing over the spring fed stream and into the forest. The grove was comprised of massive camphor trees, some as wide as the van that brought him here. The tangle of roots spread across the earth like serpents. He vaulted from root to root, never having to touch the dirt. Soon, Hiei had traveled far enough that the garden and house beyond where completely out of sight.
He was isolated, alone in the woods, and any of the leviathan trees would serve well as a place to nap. Curiosity compelled Hiei to wander a bit further, though, to find out how far the patch of forest extended. His pace was slow and relaxed, as easy moving as the stream he had crossed over earlier. He took the time to watch a deer he spotted strolling through the trees in the distance. It was barely visible against the patchwork scenery of browns and greys.
Eventually, he deduced he was nearing the property border when an empty field came into view. He was able to make out the remnants of a long forgotten fence that had been partially swallowed up by foliage. Hiei walked right up to the fence and gazed across the field and up into the looming mountains. He took a deep, relaxed breath, at peace with his situation, until a sudden bite of pain snagged both his wrist and his attention.
He hissed with displeasure and summoned up a bolt of youki, ready to scorch the offending thorn. Instead of a tangle of briers or some poisonous bush, however, he glimpsed a crisp, flat rectangle that stood out among the leaves. The object had been pinned against the fence ages ago. He had to clear away the vines and stalks of grass to get a better look, but when he did, the source of his pain became obvious.
Tacked to the fence post was a talisman, painted with detailed, calligraphic script. The message was a blatant warning, meant to guard against evil spirits. Hiei reached towards the card again, still willfully convinced that what he saw couldn't be real. Sure enough, another painful shock arced from the talisman to his flesh and forced him away.
Hiei followed the property line for a dozen more paces, and encountered a second card. He predicted he would find many more, secured along the entire length of the fence, but his discomfort drove him back towards the house. The pain caused by the ward leeched up his arm like poison, throbbing sharply. He shook out his wrist and clenched his hand as he walked, as the sensation only grew more intense if he left it alone. By the time he crossed the back garden again, a dull burn had reached his shoulder.
Nothing more than a grave look was needed to summon Kurama into their bedroom.
Thankfully, Shuuichi was still out of the house, and they had the room to themselves. Hiei sat before Kurama on the tatami floor, swallowing down the pain and retelling his story while the kitsune tended to him.
"A ward?" Kurama asked. There was skepticism in his voice, in spite of the evidence the talisman had left behind. "Most humans believe they're good luck."
"Hn, not for the person on the receiving end," Hiei snapped. He jerked his arm away from Kurama when an intense lash of electricity crackled inside his flesh.
"Hold still, please," Kurama instructed. "I can't heal you if you keep wriggling around."
"What is an item like that doing in your pea-brained step-father's backyard?" Hiei complained.
"Omamori and similar amulets are common in shrines and homes all over the country, but especially rural areas like this where people tend to be more superstitious," Kurama said. "Though, it's rare to find talismans that actually work these days."
Kurama ran his hands up and down Hiei's bare arm, both massaging his physical body and pumping healing energy into his aura. Hiei sat with his legs crossed and glared at the wall all throughout the treatment, which he suspected Kurama dragged out longer than necessary in an attempt to sooth him. After about fifteen minutes of quiet attention, Kurama pulled his hands away and sat back.
"I wouldn't worry too much," he assured Hiei. "This house is almost 120 years old. Those wards are probably left over from a time period when genuine psychics and priests were more prevalent, and no one ever bothered to take them down."
"So much for a leisurely stroll," Hiei grumbled.
Kurama smiled sympathetically and leaned forward to grace Hiei's forehead with a light kiss. He then rose to his feet, and reached into his bag to retrieve a thick book. The ribbon of a bookmark protruded from between the pages, about one third of the way in. Kurama held the book up and motioned towards the door.
"You can always enjoy the back porch with me."
Hiei huffed, but followed Kurama. Hopefully a nap would calm his annoyance, and help him forget the miserable end to his journey through the forest.
Late in the afternoon, when Shuuichi finally returned from town, Kurama was summoned by his mother to help prepare dinner. Sooner than Hiei would have liked, he was back at the chabudai, across from Hatanaka's mother. For the first time ever, he was grateful for Hatanaka's persistent chatter, because he kept any chance of an uncomfortable silence at bay.
In the middle of the table, a portable grill had been set up. The table was covered in a layer of newspapers, which caught spatters of grease as Shiori cooked yakiniku on the hot plate. Hiei inhaled the scent of the sizzling meat, vegetables, and mushrooms, and let the mouthwatering aromas distract him from the evil eye being sent his way. Kurama helped dish out the food onto his family's plates as soon as the first round of pork was cooked, smiling and chatting as though he was oblivious to the tension hanging over the meal.
The old couple not only continued to eye the two demons, but began shooting questionable looks towards each other as well. Once, Hiei was certain he saw Hatanaka's mother nod to her husband when no one else was watching, but his only reaction was to lean forward and stuff a clump of rice into his mouth. Light from the hanging ceiling lamp reflected in the man's bald head went he bent over, and gleamed brighter than the shine in Kurama's hoshi no tama.
Hiei and Kurama relaxed in their room when dinner was over and waited for their turns in the bath. Hiei was lounging on the tatami when he heard Kurama clap his book shut and sigh.
"I suppose I don't have to point out the odd looks we've been getting all day," Kurama said.
Hiei sat up.
"So I'm not going crazy," he said, with a dull roll of his eyes.
"I don't think Kazuya's mother likes me very much," Kurama went on. "She kept snapping at me while we prepared dinner, though I don't believe I committed any breaches of etiquette."
"Maybe it's the hair," Hiei said.
"Or my step-father continually raving about his acceptance of our 'progressive' relationship." Kurama groaned.
"I've never understood how humans can be simultaneously perverse and prudish," Hiei said. "Great effort is expended to produce videos of people copulating, but anyone who mentions such acts in public is ruthlessly shamed."
"Now what would you know about that type of movie?" Kurama questioned. He lowered his brows and gave Hiei a flat stare.
The fire demon growled and tightened his fist, willing away the pink tinge that formed in his cheeks.
"That's not the point!"
Kurama shook his head lightly.
"I understand what you're saying," he said. "But, the unfortunate truth is, many humans, especially those in my parents' generation, or older, have a problem with alternative forms of sexuality."
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft rap on the door.
"Hey, are you guys busy?" called Shuuichi's voice.
"Not at all," Kurama answered.
The boy slid open the door and peeked into the bedroom. He had a towel draped around his neck, and his hair was still damp. Hiei guessed he was about to announce that the bath was free, but instead he said,
"Grandma and Grandpa want to see you for some reason. They're in the garden."
"They didn't say why?" Kurama asked.
Shuuichi shrugged.
"Nope." He walked down the hallway after that, leaving an air of uneasiness in his place.
Hiei tailed Kurama from the bedroom, to the genkan, to the porch, always staying a pace behind him. The shoji screen was still open, framing the view of the garden and setting sun. Eerie lights, a blend of pink and purple, glittered on the surface of the water. The last rays of sun cast long, gloomy shadows, and together the glowing effects gave the impression that the back yard was now another world entirely, completely separate from the garden Hiei had seen that morning.
Their shoes tapped quietly against the wooden bridge when they crossed over. Hiding among the tall, tawny grasses and lilac bushes was the elderly pair, seated side by side on a stone bench. Another bench, a mirror image of the first, sat empty across from them on the little island.
Kurama sat down, his back stiff, and Hiei joined him. Though they had just eaten, Hatanaka's parents had set out a small picnic blanket on the grass. In the middle was a plate of inarizushi, and some clean napkins. Hiei enjoyed the sticky snack well enough, but the sight of it left his stomach turning and his mouth dry for some reason. To his right, he could sense Kurama's human heart pounding rapidly.
"Well?" Hatanaka's mother said. "Help yourself. I made it fresh today."
"Fresh today," her husband echoed. He bobbed his head in agreement.
Kurama swallowed loudly and his arms tensed.
"No thank you," he declined. "We're both full from dinner."
"I'm sure you have a little room left," she said, to Kurama directly this time.
"Just a little," her husband said.
"I appreciate the offer, but really, I'm not hungry."
"Really?" she crooned. Her beady eyes darkened and a smug expression spread across her face. "I thought an offering of inarizushi was the best way to appease a fox."
"I suppose it is..." Kurama said, hesitantly.
Hiei was on alert the instant he felt Kurama's aura bristle defensively. Somewhere deep in his brain, he heard the hiss and screech of a pinned animal, a predator trapped in a corner, ready to snap sharp, white teeth shut on the hand of its attacker. His own youki flared in response, and Hiei finally cast a deadly glare back at the woman who had been scrutinizing him all day.
"If this is all you wanted," Kurama said, nodding at the food still laid out on the picnic blanket. "I think we'll head back inside."
Kurama braced his hands against the stone seat and made to rise, but before he could move another muscle, the old woman's arm shot out and she pointed right between his eyes.
"Stop right there," she snapped. "I don't know what you're playing at, but it's time to drop the act... kitsune."
Kurama had been frozen in place, his weight on his palms, but he gradually settled back into a sitting position. A frightening calm overtook him. His breathing became subdued and even. Hiei had witnessed this change in demeanor enough times to know, now was the time when Kurama would attempt to regain control of the situation.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kurama hummed, "though such a notion would make an amusing fairy tail."
"Please, it's obvious by the way you flaunt that hoshi no tama hanging around your neck. Nothing about you is human. And you!" she reeled on Hiei. "You I haven't quite figured out, but you're definitely not human either."
Kurama combed his hair lightly over his shoulder and feigned indifference, though Hiei wasn't certain why he was determined to maintain the charade when they had been caught red handed. He was so consumed, waiting to see what Kurama would do next, that he could barely process the weight of what had been said.
"I was taught that it's customary to show guests more courtesy," Kurama said. "I think I speak for both Hiei and myself when I say that these absurd accusations aren't the least bit amusing."
A beat of silence gave Hiei the time he needed to think.
In spite of all their planning, the practice, the week long masquerade, Hiei had been seen for what he was in an instant. He had tried his damnedest to assimilate, both to appease Kurama and to prove that he could. At the end of the day, it was all for nothing. Hiei, master of the dark dragon, and Kurama along with him, were apparitions, aliens living in a human world. It was a fact from which he could not escape.
Before Kurama could say more, Hiei interrupted.
"Hold on," he said. "Kurama doesn't speak for both us. Not this time."
Kurama's eyes widened.
"Hiei!"
"They have you, Kurama," Hiei said roughly. "There's no point in pretending when you've already been found out."
"So, that's your real name?" Hatanaka's mother asked. She folded her arms and lifted her chin a bit, examining him.
Kurama was gaping down at Hiei. He was stunned and immobilized. A perpetual enigma to most, it was usually easy for Hiei to tell when Kurama was truly angry, after living and fighting at his side for so long. This time, he wasn't sure what kind of reaction had been evoked, because Kurama was petrified, staring without blinking. After an excruciatingly long pause, he opened his mouth slightly, shut it again, then turned to face the elderly couple on the other bench.
"Yes..." he replied sullenly.
"That mother of yours has no idea, does she?" the old woman asked.
"No idea," said her husband.
"She does not, and I plan to keep it that way," Kurama said.
"What's your angle, then?" she inquired. "Are you using her for something? Draining her energy away?"
"No," Kurama responded quickly. "It's nothing like that. An accident landed me in this situation, and though I may be a kitsune in spirit, Shiori really is my mother, in every way that matters."
"Tell me something," Hiei chimed in, hoping he could take some of the heat off Kurama and satisfy his own curiosity in the process. "How is it that you two are so aware, but your son is as blind as a wooden post?"
"My son is a dunce. All my children are dunces," Hatanaka's mother said. "The postwar generation knows of nothing beyond their noses. They left nature and their knowledge of the unseen world behind when they emigrated to the cities, but we old folks haven't forgotten how to spot an apparition."
"Haven't forgotten," the old man at her arm sang, with a wistful shake of his head.
Tremulous buzzing from the cicadas drew out the silence that followed. With the sun almost gone, the shadows in the garden became a deeper blue. Even in the dim shade of evening, though, the scene was illuminated for Hiei. Their secret had been aired, but he could still sense the agitation that settled around them.
"What now?" he asked.
"You claim no ill intentions, but youkai are notoriously tricky. It could be you're in this for the long haul," Hatanaka's mother said. "Keeping your collection of humans alive, preserving them until you're ready to rob them, eat them, or worse."
Kurama's body stiffened again. The tendons on the backs of his hands tightened until they were sharp ridges under his skin.
"Nothing in this world could make me harm my family." His voice had dropped to a feral growl. "I would kill – and have killed – for them."
Hatanaka's parents looked at each other, a look that contained within it an entire discussion. Long years spent together must have granted them the ability. The seconds ticked past, until they both turned towards Hiei.
"And what about you?" The old woman spoke for both of them.
"What are you asking?"
"The kitsune seems quite attached to my son and his family, but what's your connection to them?" she elaborated. "What's to keep an apparition like yourself from using helpless human beings as your playthings?"
"Besides the fact that Kurama would kill me? I have no reason to hurt them. You may not believe this, but not all demons are mindless animals. As foolish as they can be, that human family has shown me nothing but kindness. Don't assume I lack the conscience necessary to appreciate that."
At his side, he sensed some of Kurama's stress dissipate. He may have even cracked a smile, but Hiei did not break eye contact to check, lest he risk giving the impression that his affirmation wasn't genuine. He understood their suspicion, of course. Two dangerous beings had infiltrated their home. Hiei thought back to his childhood. If a group of humans had dared to enter the camp where he was raised, they would have been murdered on the spot, and possibly devoured, depending on how appetizing they appeared.
"Well then..."
Hiei waited for another round of accusations, but instead, the elderly pair rose, and the old woman suddenly beamed at Hiei as though she were his own grandmother.
"I'll bring the inarizushi to your room, in case you two want a midnight snack."
"A midnight snack," her husband repeated. "Hits the spot."
Hatanaka's mother scooped up the plate, his father folded the blanket under his arm, and they both tottered across the bridge, back to the house. Hiei and Kurama were left alone on the miniature island, just as crickets joined the chorus of cicadas.
Hiei watched the two seniors retreat. He waited until they had gone inside and closed the shoji screen behind them before speaking.
"Do you think they'll tell anyone?"
"It's doubtful," Kurama said. "Who would believe them?"
When the demonic duo retired that night, they found the platter of inarizushi in the bedroom, covered with cellophane. Shuuichi was already asleep near the far side of the room, breathing evenly. The boy had apparently worn himself out.
Hiei ate his share of the sweet, abura-age wrapped rice while Kurama laid out a futon and blankets for them in the middle of the floor. Hiei smirked around a tangy mouthful. Kurama didn't typically treat himself, but that meddling old woman had been right in guessing the tasty offering for Inari was one of Kurama's favorite foods. The fox sat down and gobbled up the rest of the dish as soon as the bed was made.
He left to wash the empty plate when he was finished, then joined Hiei under the covers upon his return. Kurama settled into the pillows and looked not at Hiei, but somewhere inside himself. He was calmly wrestling with his own thoughts when Hiei spoke up again.
"Looks like all your grooming this week was for nothing."
Kurama blinked once, clearing away the haze of contemplation, before he met Hiei's gaze.
"That's not entirely true," he said. "I think we both ended up learning important lessons."
"And they are?"
"I hope your ultimate lesson coincides with what I originally set out to teach you: that you can have a place in my human life without sacrificing pieces of yourself."
"What about you, then?" Hiei asked. "They may have dished out a taste of humility, but what could those fossils teach you that you don't already know?"
Kurama rolled onto his back and gripped the edge of the blanket.
"Nothing new, per se," he said. "Not really. Rather, they provided yet another reminder of a fact I so easily forget these days... that I, too, am an outcast. I may look and act human, but those with awareness will never see me as one of them, no matter how authentic my disguise. The foxes in Ueno Zoo proved that, and Kazuya's parents reinforced the sober reality."
Heavy lids lowered over his green eyes. He was tired, tired from a week of hard work and from chasing after Hiei, guiding him through his uncomfortable initiation into human life. Kurama was as persistent and patient as the roots of a tree, pushing their way up through concrete over the decades, but he had his limits. Hiei shifted to his side, offering his complete attention as Kurama continued.
"My spirit and mind remain unchanged. They have been mine for over a thousand years, but this brain betrays me more often than I'd care to admit. Reaching life's milestones again, for the first time, feeling both joy and heartbreak with human feelings... it's easy to become lost in the experience."
"Kurama."
Kurama tipped his head to the right. His thick locks of hair curled around his cheeks.
"Yes?"
"I did learn a lesson this week."
"You did?"
"You are who you decide to be," Hiei said. He pushed that thick shock of hair out of Kurama's face. He felt his smooth neck, the warmth in his chest, his aura, his heartbeat. "Whether human or demon or fox, we are still what we are."
There was ease in his eyes now, nipping at the heels of despondency. Kurama smiled sweetly.
"And more than what we were..."
With the city far away, the silver light of the hanging crescent moon and spray of stars was the only source of illumination once Kurama flicked off the lamp. Hiei was keenly aware of the intense darkness, and took a breath to appreciate not just that, but the utter silence that came along with it. Only the airy symphony of Kurama's breathing, that of his brother, and the dim chirp of the crickets outside met Hiei's ears. The aroma of camphor and lilac filled his lungs. In no time, his own eyes were slipping closed and he was drifting away to join the rest of the family in the ether of the dream world.
Hiei's last thought, as he ended this week, was of the old house that had welcomed him in, regardless of his nature.
It was a place he would not mind visiting again.