Disclaimer: I own neither YYH or IY.
AN: I apologize ahead of time for any offense I may cause any of you. I know I can be blunt at times, and in this case, I'm generally TV-taught on the subject, and I'm really more of a Criminal Minds kind of gal when it comes to this subject. So, yes, sorry for any offense my ignorance causes. Constructive criticism is welcome.
AN2: For The Deadliest Sin's winter contest, "Every day's a holiday with you".
Of Decadence and Delight
Age is not all decay; it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within, that withers and bursts the husk.
George MacDonald
Bodily decay is gloomy in prospect, but of all human contemplations the most abhorrent is body without mind.
Thomas Jefferson
Hiei was awoken from his doze by the door shutting slightly louder than normal and the smell of burnt flesh. Considering who it was, both were symptoms of wrongness, but he couldn't decide which to be more worried about. It was odd, he decided, for Kurama to arrive home hours early on his first day on the job—after all, he had all the grace, charm and intelligence earned from living with Youko for all these years to talk his way into and out of every situation, though he had that human modesty and sense of guilt that might prevent him from using it had he actually managed to do something so bad to get fired on his first day. But it was far worse that he was injured and Youko hadn't been able to do anything about it.
He waited as Kurama made his way through the kitchen to the living room where Hiei stood against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
"We have a problem," he said, his voice a suspicious mixture of his and Youko's, as he went about unbuttoning his shirt. "An insane woman with holy powers resides inthe hospital." He opened the shirt to reveal an angry red welt in the vague shape of a hand just below his heart.
Hiei's eyes widened in surprise, now unable to resist closing the distance between them to inspect the injury. He could feel the heat rising from it without touching it, a residual tingle of holy energy increasing the closer he got to it. "A miko?"
Kurama shook his head in frustration, turning away and beginning to pace as he knew Youko used to do once upon a time, those few occasions when something went wrong. "How should I know? She's in a mental hospital. I don't even know what would be worse: a trained miko gone mad, or some crazy woman who has no control over her powers. What I want to know," he said, stopping mid-circuit and staring intensely at Hiei, "is how she came to be so powerful. They were bedtime stories when we were young. How is it possible for her to exist?"
"Some kind of recessive gene?" Hiei suggested, having often gone through Kurama's old books during spells of boredom. Kurama stopped in his pacing, acknowledging the thought, before beginning again. With no answer forthcoming, Hiei changed tactic from why to what. "Will we need to subdue her?" The meaning of 'subdue' was obvious, and brought an immediate change in atmosphere.
Kurama finally sat, beginning to calm down and think rather than stew. Youko had a habit of letting his pride get in their way. "No," he said eventually. "If we go in unprepared now, Reikai will find out eventually—if they don't already know about her—and I'm betting the punishment for killing a miko would be much worse than for stealing from their vaults." He retreated into his mind for another minute before addressing Hiei again. "Will Mukuro need you for the next few weeks?"
He shook his head. "Everything's quiet this time of year. You want me to do reconnaissance?"
"Yes," he nodded, "First we need to figure out everything we can about her. And then," he said, eyes hard, "decide what needs to be done."
Hiei did not have much experience concerning hospitals. In fact, he would be among the first to say that hospitals were an alien concept devised by weak, sentimental humans. It wasn't that youkai had no use for healers—there were many peaceful communities, and many healers were powerful and sought after in Makai; his own sister came from a village of healers, though they were on the whole reclusive and generally unwilling to help all but the desperate who made the difficult climb to their territory. Hiei himself was raised to see the incompetent as prey: a youkai would fight constantly to secure his place until one day someone better came along. For those who lived past their prime, it was only a matter of time before their violent deaths.
Those considered insane by human standards were either feared or disposed of quickly. Considering his target, he was prepared to use caution.
The psychiatric ward occupied the entire east wing of the hospital—on the opposite end from the terminal patients, so at least he didn't have to deal with those mental invasions of grief, but it wasn't any better having to deal with the jumbled assembly of minds packed into four floors. The miko, violent but not suicidal, was allowed a room on the third floor. Tracking the marker—a seed infused with Youko's youki—Kurama had planted earlier in the day, he located the miko's room and quickly settled himself on the rooftop of a building across the street which provided a vantage point from where he could just see into her room through the metal bars.
He uncovered his jagan and slowly opened it, allowing himself a minute to check for any threats and block out the other residents to concentrate on her. She was sleeping—it was past midnight, after all—and her mind vulnerable. He had heard stories of the mikos and their abilities before the barrier was in place: the most novice among them was a challenge to probe and the truly gifted ones impossible, as if they had natural barriers protecting them. Even human magics failed to influence them.
So it was a surprise to Hiei that, even in her sleeping state, he was able to slip into her mind virtually unnoticed. It was like attempting to pick a lock only to realize the door wasn't even shut. He wondered, briefly, how deteriorated her mind had become—but only briefly. Bolstered by the lack of confrontation, he summoned a bit more of his power, determined to make quick work of his recon mission, and began to sink down deeper into her mind.
And that's when he felt it—her. A presence in her mind, watching him, testing his power with a mental touch like a soft caress.
In the physical world, on the edges of his senses, he heard a moan.
He had not even landed in the foyer—what he termed the area of the mind from which he could access the rest—but, knowing the necessity of caution on this mission, he prepared himself to leave, assuming his powers were bringing her to wakefulness and she would soon kick him out of her mind, but instead, he felt another caress, heard another moan, and knew that somehow, for some reason, his presence was giving her…pleasure. He was curious, but knew better than to let mere curiosity guide him against such an opponent and began to rise out of his mind.
But too late. She was beginning to get a grip on him, light but needy, like a woman nipping at her lover, sucking softly on his neck.
Yes…yes…! He heard in his mind.
Soft extraction wouldn't work, he knew.
So he tore himself away, taking care to leave as little damage as possible.
"Nooo!"
Fully in his own body once more, he heard her scream herself awake, saw her thrashing about, followed quickly by the night attendants rushing in to hold her down as one pulled out a syringe.
That morning, as Kurama was leaving the house to go to work, he looked over to Hiei, who was in his usual spot in the living room, raising an eyebrow in question. Hiei shook his head once before looking away, dismissing him. He could hold Kurama off for a little while; neither had expected anything right away. For now, he would keep the events of the night to himself.
The next night found Hiei on the same rooftop, across from the miko's room, and strangely hesitant. Not one to allow himself any weaknesses, he ripped the white cloth away from the jagan and set to work.
Her mind, despite his hasty retreat, was intact. He made sure to check for any fraying or scarring bearing his signatures, but there were none—not that there weren't any others at all. There were scars and fraying at every level in her mind that he'd been able to visit.
What was different from his last visit was that he knew immediately that she was aware, and watching him. And he felt, oddly, welcomed by her subconscious. Again, it was something he wouldn't expect from his natural enemy, but they were investigating her on the basis of her decayed mental state. Obviously the miko had to be crazy if interacting with his youki gave her such pleasure.
Her presence remained hovering on the edges of his senses—like a dog that knew it had done something wrong and was trying to please him by being overly polite—so he decided to probe deeper. His mission was to examine her mental state, and to do that, he needed access to her memories. He focused his mind on finding where she kept hers.
From his years of probing into the minds of others, he knew that, like computers, the interface may change—he'd seen many organized like doors in a house, others as cabinets of curiosities—but the functions remained the same. There was always a foyer, an entrance zone, from which other parts of the mind could be accessed. Hers was pictured as a clearing in a forest, with a well in the center. Nothing special, until he looked up. The sky was in that strange, in-between state that happened sometimes, when the sun was just beginning to set and the moon and some stars could be seen, but he was able to see it all clearly, even small planets and clusters of light that looked like distant galaxies.
He knew, just by looking, by sensing, the functions of it all. He knew that with one massive attack to the sun he could kill her—maybe not physically, but mentally, and that was really what mattered in the end—just as he knew that, were he to enshroud the moon in his youki, he could control the miko. Perhaps, long ago, he would have done that.
Her presence watched him as he focused on each satellite individually until he found what he was looking for, in the form of a spiral galaxy, hundreds of stars, separate but clustered. He found he needn't do anything but think it and he was transported to its center, and was surprised to find that it wasn't planets or stars he was now surrounded by, but thousands of shards of glass, or perhaps of a jewel. The shards were uniform in all but color, ranging from a bright, clear pink to a sickly purple.
As he floated in this space, trying to decide where to start first, he felt her presence growing. She didn't try to grab onto him again—though he could sense her pleasure through the connection—but he could feel her pulling his attention in one direction, toward a small cluster of pink shards that had an air of innocence about them. Her presence was beaming with friendliness and reassurance as he ventured closer to the cluster.
Come in to my parlor, said the spider to the fly…
He'd heard that from Kurama a while back, probably some bit of fictional human nonsense, like the bit about the scorpion and the frog, but it seemed rather appropriate in his current situation.
The choice of whether or not to put his trust in his natural enemy was his to make at this moment. It was impossible to go against one's nature. But then again, he was no fly.
The beginning, then.
Kurama was sitting at the kitchen table when he arrived back at their apartment, sipping coffee and looking expectantly over his newspaper at Hiei. He was expecting a report, and after a week of avoidance and delay, he knew there was no putting off the fox any longer. Kurama had made enough coffee for two, so he poured himself a mug of it, adding a liberal amount of milk—it was really more milk flavored with coffee, a delicious concoction, but one he refused to drink in front of the others since he knew all that would come of it was short jokes.
"For a miko," he said wryly as he pulled out his chair, "she has an unhealthy liking for youkai."
"What do you mean?" His own experience hadn't left him with that impression.
Hiei briefly explained the situation to him.
"Interesting. So she's essentially rolled out the red carpet for you." Kurama tapped his fingers on the table. "That presents questions of its own, but I'm more curious about the presence you felt. Could it have been some defective wisp of power that was supposed to protect her mind? Was it ever dangerous."
It was a question that Hiei had pondered several times before on his own. He'd finally settled on: "I'm not sure. That first time, it was like it was trying to…devour me. It didn't want to destroy me, just sate its own hunger. And the other times…it sipped at the energy I was giving off, energy I didn't need, content to feed off of that."
"Hmm." Kurama's fingers still drummed on the table in thought. "Well, the miko and houshi were the gods' response to youkai. I don't think it's out of the question to say that miko energy could feed off of youkai energy, strange as that sounds. But back to the heart of the matter," he said, abruptly changing subject, "Is she a danger?"
"If I knew the answer to that, don't you think I would have told you days ago?"
"You said you were welcome in her mind."
"Yes, but only where this presence allowed me to go, and in the order it wanted." He said it like it frustrated him—which it did, at first—but he had enjoyed watching the girl grow up, through her eyes. Her kind was the stuff of nightmares for youkai children, once hated adversaries for the adults. But she was also worth his respect. "I've been watching her memories in order, beginning from the earliest in her childhood. Your basic human stuff," he dismissed to Kurama, before continuing with a smirk, "But it gets interesting when she turns fifteen." Kurama leaned in. "She was pulled down a well five hundred years into the past where she and a ragtag group of humans and youkai and a hanyou battled an evil hanyou for the possession of a jewel," Hiei deadpanned.
Kurama glared and crossed his arms, miffed. "So she suffered a mental break when she was fifteen, and again now, a decade later."
"No, it was completely real. The memories didn't have the trace of someone who imagined a story so real she believed it. It all happened. But that's as far as I got."
Kurama ran a hand through his hair. "Well, at least that answers why it's youkai she's imagining: five hundred years ago the barrier didn't exist."
"And five hundred years ago, miko were trained."
As if on cue, both youkai looked each other in the eye for the barest second before leaving the room to think elsewhere, away from each other. And there was plenty to ponder about the miko. Late that afternoon, Kurama entered the house and leaned in the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room.
"You know what I've noticed, Hiei?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I've asked around about our miko, poked about in her file. She's been there for almost a year now, and for that year, she's been violent towards herself and others, and delusional—though considering most of her delusions concern youkai, I take that part of the diagnosis with a grain of salt. More often than not, it was like she just wasn't always there. But since you've begun investigating her, there is a sense of calm about her that I hadn't seen before, like an awareness that she hadn't had before. Normal, if that makes any sense. Dr. Matsuya believes that her change in behavior is due to a change in medications. I'm more of the opinion that you were the change she needed."
Hiei snorted at that.
"Reality is often stranger than fiction, Hiei. Opposites attract. Perhaps miko and youkai have more to link them than battle lines."
"What's your point, fox?" Hiei asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.
"I think you owe her a visit. In person."
It was a simple matter for Hiei to enter the hospital and bypass all of the security cameras and personnel. He could have taken care of the human half of the equation with the jagan, but he enjoyed the challenge of sneaking past under only his physical abilities. Not, he snorted, that it was much of a challenge in the dead of night when the facility was running on bare bones. In any case, he quickly found himself in front of her door. He allowed himself only a second to look at the name, followed by a series of color-coded stickers that likely indicated her mental status to all who passed by, before entering and closing the door behind him.
There she was on the bed, just as he had seen her through the window so many times before, sleeping with only hospital attire and a sheet, given the warmth of the season. Were she a normal human, and were he not a master of stealth, he would have assumed that it was the door closing that woke her, but it was with his first step away from the door that her eyes popped open, completely alert, and turned to him.
"It's you!" she cried in a whisper. "I know you. But…" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "I've never met you. How do I know you?"
It was only a matter of time before she began to panic and attracted someone's notice, so he quickly made to get to her side and explain. "We've never met, miko. You have become familiar with my youki since I have been…" There was no sense in telling her he'd been invading her mind for the past week; she may be friendly with youkai, but she was still his natural enemy. "I have been nearby for several days."
She looked at him strangely. "Youki…youkai?" She questioned before putting her face in her hands and groaning. "They call me insane, you know, and who's to say they're wrong? Even now, feeling a depth of clarity I was too far gone to notice was missing, an otherworldly apparition visits me. I wonder how far gone I have to be to be questioning my sanity like a sane person?"
He growled in annoyance. "I'm no ghost, miko." When she just shook her head, face still in her hands, he grabbed her wrist, but quickly pulled away when he got zapped. "Damn it!"
That seemed to have gotten her out of her stupor. Wide-eyed, she reached for his injured hand. "I'm so sorry!" There was a tingling feeling, then the sting of being zapped by her powers was gone. He flexed his hand before looking at her and saw that she was looking at where her hand touched his arm in amazement. "You are real. I thought the other ones were real too, but my hands would go right through…And you make me feel so"—she blushed—"warm." She looked up at him, hope, and tears, shining in her eyes. "I'm not crazy, am I?"
"No," he responded softly, "not right now."
A smile began to form on her lips and she removed her hand from his arm to return it to her lap. "My name is Higurashi Kagome," she said, executing an awkward sideways bow.
"Hiei."
"It's…it's nice to meet you, Hiei," she yawned out. "I'm sorry, I've been so tired lately. Will you come back tomorrow, Hiei? Please?" For the safety of youkai living in the area and for his own curiosity, he nodded. He was strangely pleased when she fell into a peaceful slumber.
He kept his promise. He returned the next night, and the next. She would talk for as long as her energy would keep up, telling him about her childhood—both in this time and the past—and he would pretend he didn't already know most of her stories, though she did talk about the times after the point in her memories that he was acquainted with. He found out what happened at the end of the battle. But never after that. And he allowed it. She had a certain strength that he respected—a strength that allowed a modern-day girl to deal with the hardship and responsibility of the past, to grow up faster than most humans were able to, a strength that made those around her want to become better, to accept everyone around her. She made him wonder if she was what miko were supposed to be—a way to even the odds, not kill and tame the land.
Sometimes, when she was quiet, and too tired to really talk, he would fill in the silence. There was not the horror present in her mind that he had noticed in other humans when they discovered his past. It was a sort of acceptance that she projected, not quite condoning his previous lifestyle, but understanding why it was necessary.
Sometimes, when he thought she had the energy to do so, they would go up onto the roof. It was during one of the first trips there, when she insisted she could walk just fine on her own, that he felt the first glimmer of worry.
The miko of the past that he was so well acquainted with—heck, even the insane, present version of her that Kurama had described to him—was so strong, physically and spiritually. And so, when she stopped after the first flight of stairs, leaning against the wall and panting in exhaustion, he felt he had reasonable cause to worry.
She waved it off. "We don't get much exercise here. I remember when I could walk most of a day without much of a break, fighting monsters besides! All this lying about in this place has just made me lose all my muscle tone. I really should start an exercise regimen." She had insisted on continuing, but had passed out in exhaustion by the time they reached the roof.
He addressed Kurama with the problem and was similarly dissatisfied with the answer. "I supposed it's possible. Patients who are not quite in their right mind often don't notice bodily needs. Perhaps her body was weakening, but her mind couldn't acknowledge it. Her body being forced to do what it couldn't may have further encouraged her deterioration."
Nevertheless, he ignored her when she insisted she could walk up those stairs on her own.
And so they settled into a schedule. Kagome seemed to be getting better—if not physically, then mentally—and Hiei…Well, he enjoyed being a part of it.
And then he had to leave.
When Kurama heard the muffled sound of raised voices around the corner, he wasn't expecting to be confronted with the one person he avoided in the entire building, under strict instructions of his boss—though those instructions didn't keep him from poking into her files when he was bored, or eavesdropping on conversations about her.
"No, I want nothing to do with him!" the miko was saying, turning resolutely away from whoever it was, but only ended up being caught in a gentle hold by Dr. Matsuya, the doctor in charge of her case. On her other side was a youngish man with sandy brown hair; apparently a doctor, if the white coat was anything to go by, but not one that Kurama'd seen before—perhaps a trainee under Matsuya's tutelage?
His face was cast with worry—he would need to grow out of that if he expected to work here long—and he held out his hands in a placating manner. "Please, Kagome, I'm your husband, I love you."
She turned around and glared at him scathingly. "You don't love me, Hojo, and I never loved you—"
"You can't mean that!"
Her laugh was dark. "You needed someone to heal, and I needed normalcy. We both know it was convenience that brought us together. Just like it was convenient for you to imprison me in this hell-hole!"
"Kagome, doctor," Matsuya began to speak in a soothing voice, trying to prevent the developing tension from reaching an explosive end as Kagome struggled in his grasp, but this Hojo was too invested.
"Kagome, you need help—"
"What I need is a means to my end!" At Matsuya's signal, several of the nurses around the room began to cautiously make their way over to the three, a few with syringes hidden.
"I won't allow you to kill yourself!"
"Then you've doomed me and destroyed me far beyond anything that Inuyasha was ever capable of!" She accused between struggles. Finally able to wrench an arm free, she attempted to claw at Hojo's face, but was quickly restrained by one of the nurses, followed by two others, who held her tight as another came up from behind her with a syringe of sedative, leaving her lax.
Hojo reached out limply, as if attempting, in his own shocked way, to help, but Matsuya was quick to place himself between them. "I think it's time you leave, don't you, doctor?" he politely commanded. Defeated, Hojo sulked away as Kagome was carried the opposite direction back to her room.
Kurama exited the way he came, preparing himself for a long wait tonight. Hiei wasn't going to like this one bit.
Years ago, when being a lone assassin for hire, constantly hunting, constantly hunted, had lost some of its appeal and he began to feel the desire to have a home, a place to return to, Hiei entered into a contract of service with one of the reigning youkai lords of Makai, Mukuro. Years had gone by, and he was still under the contract, but Mukuro was understanding about his desire to wander, and so he was required only to be present in her fortress for a week or two every few of months, and be available to her should she suddenly have an assignment for him. It extended the contract, but left him with far more freedom than most of her underlings. He had informed Kagome of this and left. After all, a week apart would do no harm.
He considered returning to the house he shared with Kurama to rest for a few hours, but training new recruits had left him with a great deal of energy, so he decided to return to the hospital, only to be met with Kurama, blocking the door to Kagome's room.
"Hiei—"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Hiei, it's—I don't know. As soon as you left—" That's all he was able to get out before Hiei pushed past him and entered Kagome's room. She was on the bed, but straps held her down securely and she was awake but her mind fogged. Drugged.
He turned on Kurama. "How the hell did this happen in just a week?"
The redhead ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. She was fine the first couple of days, but then she started to act strangely. I tried to help her," he explained, "but then today—"
"Get out." Kurama knew better than to argue. He slipped away as Hiei approached the bed.
Within a couple feet of her, he began to feel a pull on his youki, but he didn't fight it. He was used to the sensation by now, and knew she wouldn't harm him. It had started in her mind and continued every time he visited her face to face, a siphoning off of the energy he expended, energy he wouldn't use anyways. This time was more than he was used to, but much less than it would take to kill him. For whatever reason, the miko needed his youki to survive. He knew the what, but not the why. But the why didn't matter now. She did. He held her hand and prepared to wait.
It took a while, this time, for Kagome to completely return from her muddled mind. Two weeks rather than the one when he had first begun investigating her, perhaps because he had vowed to himself to give her the courtesy of privacy of mind. Perhaps she was not as able to siphon off enough energy when he wasn't standing at the source. He had taken to holding her in her bed at night, partially because winter was coming and he thought she was too fragile for the roof and partially because he felt guilty for her deteriorated state and wanted to do everything he could to make sure she got everything she needed.
Kagome waded back to him through muddled thoughts and spent a couple of nights in pure happiness at his return before, one night, she finally told him what he'd been wanting to know from the beginning: what happened after the battle.
"I think I'd known for a while, you know, that he would choose her," she admitted, tears streaming out of her eyes. "He loved us both, but he could never get over her, but she was dead, and so when it came to choosing between me healing him and succumbing to his wounds, he chose her. I was prepared for that though. But not for all the others. Somehow, I thought they would survive. But then it was just me and the jewel, but then the jewel sent me back, and I just wanted to put it all out of my mind. I craved normalcy like an addict. I went back to school, I became a librarian, got my own apartment, put the shrine completely out of my mind. But I knew then that something was wrong. I kept seeing people, things…But then I became reacquainted with Hojo."
Her husband.
"Sometimes, I felt so bad. Hojo was so normal. He fit my ideal of normal, and so I pretended I loved him, all the while longing for someone else completely. I realized later on that we were both using each other. I should have guessed it earlier. When we were in school, he used to bring me things…He only started to want to date me when my grandfather said I was sick. Hojo needs someone to take care of. A damsel in distress. But my distress was too much for anyone. One of the last things I remember…there was a girl, she looked so much like Yura…and it looked like she was about to attack this child…I knew, even then, that Yura was dead, but…" She tucked back a lock of hair. "That—me, attacking some stranger picking up her own child, with all the other outbursts and delusions and harm to my own body…That was the last straw. And here I am."
She cried herself to sleep that night, and for a few nights after that. It was a weight disappearing from her, clearing the way for something new, if she was ever able to leave here, if she was ever able to get away from her old life.
He could only hold her, give her what comfort he could, because there was no advice he could give, nothing he could say to make her feel better, just help her move on, regain herself. She had matured in a world she thought she had no place in only to return to a world she had outgrown. He couldn't help her, but he could protect her from the world where she no longer had a place. And so he returned to her, night after night.
As he held her to him one night, snug and warm despite the winter chill, a thought came to him. "Kurama mentioned it's nearly Christmas."
"And?" she asked playfully.
"I'm given to believe it's of some importance to humans."
She turned to him, a smile on her lips. "Are you trying to ask if you should get me a gift?"
"Perhaps."
"Oh, Hiei," she said, now turning her body to face him. "Every day's a holiday when I get to spend it with you. My tall, dark and handsome knight who steals me away from a world of madness and saves me from myself, the one enemy I have no defense against."
There was a moment when Hiei was about to deny it, to say that he was no knight, but paused because it was…nice that someone, that she would feel that way about him. And then the moment passed and the comfortable silence stretched between them as she fell asleep in his arms.
When the first light of dawn entered the room, Hiei carefully extracted himself from her bed. She didn't even stir, though whether that was due to his skill or her constant exhaustion he didn't know. He made some mental calculations then scrawled out a note, letting her know where he would be, that he would return soon.
It was time to renegotiate his contract with Mukuro.
After hours, Kurama sat in the miko's room, holding her hand and consciously bringing forth his youki. Surrounding her bed were several of the Makai breeds of flora—none of them carnivorous, of course, but capable of releasing their own youki once grown.
The realization of how greatly she had subconsciously become dependent on Hiei was scary. It was the end of the second day and already she was like this, restrained and bruised, sedated and still suffering from troubled sleep. She was no longer struggling in her sleep as she had been when he snuck in, but he was not entirely youkai any more; there was only so much youki he could give her.
He felt it, the moment Hiei entered the hospital and he barely had a minute to prepare for Hiei's anger before he burst through the door.
And no time at all to prepare for the portal that opened on the wall opposite the bed. Unlike the many other times they had travelled through it, it was not Botan that peeked through, but a solemn Koenma. He looked at both of them before motioning them to come forward. When both hesitated, he sighed and, removing his pacifier, blew a soft breath in Kagome's direction. She immediately settled. "She'll remain stable until you wake her, and you'll be back before dawn." He motioned again for them to follow him and, with some reluctance, they complied.
Kurama and Hiei stood in front of Koenma's desk as they had so many times before, but so much was different about this time, everything from the prince himself fetching them to the lack of light and noise outside the office—strange as, even at night, the ogres worked. Death doesn't just stop. No, Koenma, for just tonight, had cleared out his offices, had brought them here, to introduce them to one of the skeletons in Reikai's deep, dark closet.
Koenma sighed, leaning back in his chair. There was an air of resigned guilt about him as he collected his thoughts, carefully putting them together for his audience. When at last he spoke, it wasn't with the high-strung tone of a young prince commanding his small unit, but of a man who had come to terms with a wretched past. "The barrier separating Ningenkai from Makai was not made without sacrifices. The gods created humans and they created youkai, and when everything went wrong, to protect the humans in death, they created Reikai, and to protect them in life, they gifted certain humans with holy powers. Seijin."
"The miko and houshi, the stuff of our nightmares back then," Kurama commented.
"And the greatest game."
Koenma nodded solemnly, clasping his hands in front of his face, sending them a level gaze. "Yes, the miko and houshi. For a time, they were the perfect solution. But after a few generations, we noticed that their powers were becoming weaker and weaker with each generation. Sure, a strong one would pop up in every so often, but what could a single person do against the wild youkai lurking on the edges of civilization, or those who ruled kingdoms, looking to expand? Looking back on it, I've come to realize that none of us noticed that the youkai populations were dealing with the same problem, or that the humans were slowly becoming better at killing; the taijiya were only the first step: once they became unified under one flag, the humans on these islands became truly frightening. But at the time, the only option open in our minds was to fully separate the two species."
"So you sacrificed all of them to create the barrier?"
"No…Though perhaps it would have been better if we had. No, we addressed some of the most powerful practitioners left around the world, and they willingly lent their powers, and for most of them their lives, to our cause, and the barrier was a success. The sacrifice came afterwards, and slowly, and painfully." He stopped and furrowed his eyebrows, not sure how to go on. He opened his mouth as if to speak before stopping several times before he finally took a breath and continued. "Imagine, if you will, a the world as a body. The body takes in impurities which upset the balance within the body. To neutralize these impurities and restore balance there is the liver. But what would happen if the impurities were to be barred from entering?"
"There would be no need for the liver. It would become a vestigial organ," Kurama answered.
"Exactly," Koenma confirmed sadly.
"So you're saying that the miko and houshi were filters for negative energy—that they depended on youki in order to live?"
"Close, but not quite. It wasn't that fewer of them were being born in reaction to youkai populations doing the same, but rather fewer of them were being born with holy powers. Physically they were fine, and remained so for a while after the barrier was created, as there was still residual youki to filter. But those that were young when it happened…As they aged, they slowly lost their hold on reality; the power ate at their minds and emotions until there was little left of who they were. That great power bestowed by the gods…it had dwindled, yes, but it could not stop just as suddenly as the barrier had been erected. Several generations were born, knowing that it was a possibility that the madness could come to them. With these once respected protectors losing their sanity, it's little wonder the old beliefs quickly became jokes, little stories to scare or amuse children. And those rare seijin who were truly gifted…none lived past their prime, having wasted away or died by their own hands."
Hiei, quiet and glowering for most of the conversation, spoke up. "But then how come Kagome—"
Koenma waved his hand, silencing the interruption. "That power still exists, though barely noticeable, even for those of us who know. There is a department in Reikai that was formed with the purpose of watching the descendants of the gifted lineages. Kagome's grandfather is the priest at Higurashi Shrine. His eccentricities are not a sign of age, but a sign that he has a wisp of power, which was passed on to his granddaughter. Fate had it in for her: perhaps she would have gone the way of her grandfather, or perhaps she would have developed those powers in this time, and suffered a complete break with reality while still young. Instead she had the Shikon no Tama secured in her body, and for whatever reason, Mistress Centipede was able to sense something in her, something that lured her from the limbo of the well to drag Kagome to the Feudal Era, a time when youkai were free, and miko could be so very strong."
"And now?"
Koenma shrugged. "Perhaps that was all Fate had planned, or perhaps it was broken. Or perhaps it's not done with her yet," he finished, gaze directed pointedly at Hiei.
A lull sunk down on the conversation as the prince and youkai stared coolly at each other. Kurama took the moment to clear his throat, gaining their attention. "Koenma, you brought us here, revealed what I'm certain is classified information. To what ends? What does your father want done about the matter? About us?"
Koenma sighed, clasping his hands on his desk. "You are quite right, Kurama, it is my father who is ultimately in charge of the miko. However, the both of us have been playing close attention to Kagome, and we both—albeit reluctantly on father's end of things—came to the same conclusion. You may continue on as you have been."
This was a surprise to the both of them, but both sensed it was conditional.
"But you do so with the knowledge that, should harm come to Kagome, directly through you damaging her, or indirectly through you losing interest without precautions, you will have the full force of the SDF out for your blood. At least," he said, smiling dryly at Hiei's stiff stance, "those are my father's stipulations. From all my years of knowing you, Hiei, and all these months of watching you with her, I know how unlikely an occurrence that would be."
Hiei just glared at the prince before turning and walking away. Knowing better than to impede him, Koenma opened the portal.
They ended up back in Kagome's room. Nothing had changed in the short time they'd been gone. She was still in quiet slumber, thanks to Koenma, and there was little noise elsewhere at this time of night to disturb the quiet, troubled thoughts of both youkai.
Kurama was the first to break the silence. "So it seems Reikai has given you its blessing."
Hiei snorted in derision. "Little good that does, Kurama," he muttered angrily. "'Go on as you have been', Koenma says. Her mind may be healing now, but that's little solace when her powers are now causing her body to waste away."
Kurama sighed. Hiei was right. Koenma had said that the holy powers inherent in miko had caused those remaining to go mad, but most died before anything could be done. Apparently, now partially sated on Hiei's youki, they sought out more, attacking the physical world, her body. It was only a matter of time before she succumbed.
It was a solemn look they shared next, both knowing what had to be done. "Perhaps you should leave," Hiei said pointedly. Two words passed between them. Plausible deniability. There was a time that Kurama would have protested, would have tried to help, be he knew there was a line he couldn't cross right now. Koenma may fight for their side, but his father would not be so understanding. And, though Kurama would deny it sometimes, he was far too attached to the human world to leave it for good. The occasional bit of work for Yomi was all well and good, but he knew it would be impossible for him to live there now. And besides, Hiei may be in need of another ally on this side of the barrier eventually.
"Is she worth it?" He asked quietly. He knew messing with a miko—and this particular miko—would make him an enemy of Enma.
Hiei took a minute to think, to glance over at the woman in the bed. "She's worth finding out," he finally replied.
It was such a noncommittal answer, but one he understood well. He nodded. "Take care."
And left.
Mukuro was calling him with greater frequency now, but also for shorter lengths of time, given that there wasn't the mess of dealing with the barrier. Still, he was at her fortress almost as much as he had been before the whole stealing from Reikai fiasco that had taken him down an entirely different path in life. They both knew why, though they rarely spoke of it: according to the contract he had signed so long ago, he was only required to serve Mukuro for a few more years, and she planned to use those years. Perhaps he would renew it, or perhaps not; at this point in time, he had far greater incentive to serve Yusuke than Mukuro.
There was only a light breeze on the ground, but up here, the wind was wild—it was only right, given the climb—though still warm, given the season. The sun was setting, and from this vantage point, he could easily see the last of the day's light hitting the broad expanses of land surrounding Yusuke's fortress.
But his eyes were on her.
Her hair, caught in the torrents of wind, flew every which way, and as she turned toward him, sensing him, she smiled radiantly, her whole demeanor giving him the impression that she was a wind spirit that would soon sprout wings and play amongst the clouds.
"Hiei!" she called, tucking a stray lock behind her ear, which proved to be an act of futility when the wind immediately snatched it away again. She let it be. It was more a habit, a nervous tic, than a desire to control her dark locks. "I walked all the way up here without any breaks and I'm barely even winded."
As he approached her, he looked her up and down, as if assessing the truthfulness of her statement. It was a joke between them , as they both knew Yusuke had assigned some of his most trusted men to watch after her, and her most recent progress, as always, was reported to him when he returned to Yusuke's—now their—home. And what progress she had made!
In Ningenkai, surrounded by her own kind, those she was born to protect from the likes of the youkai who threatened their wellbeing, she could only survive. But here, surrounded by those who should be her enemy, she thrived. It was strange. It made him wonder what the gods were thinking when they created a new race hundreds of years ago. It made him wonder what they were thinking when they created her, so out of place in the modern world.
They were silent as they looked out upon the land, content just to be there together.
They weren't in love. Or at least, he wasn't in love with her. He knew what it felt like to be in love, and he knew what it felt like to be heartbroken. His teammates—former teammates—really could use some practice in preventing projection around a telepath. And maybe he peeked. He knew it wasn't that blinding love, that at-first-sight obsession.
What they had was built on respect and wit and ambition.
"So," she said, bumping his hip with hers, "when are you gonna start training me?"
He slid a sidelong glance at her. "Tomorrow morning at first light. Which means"—without warning, he lifted her into both arms, causing the surprised miko to giggle—"it's your bedtime."
She pouted playfully as she wrapped one arm around his neck and reached out the other to open the door. "But I'm not even tired yet!"
"Don't worry." He smirked. "You will be." The door shut behind them as they made their way down the tower's stairs and to their bedroom.
No, they weren't in love. Neither of them was innocent enough to believe that the idealized love of fairy tales existed. They fit together. That's what their relationship was, not a mad love but the coming together of two wholes that could, together, also make a larger picture. It was a delight in the now that could be renewed again and again. A contentment that could stand the test of time.