"Kurama and the short stack are running out of time."

Kuwabara's voice rolled down the hallway to Kalanie's room, joining the early morning light slanted through her curtains in stirring her from sleep. Stifling a yawn, she shoved off her covers, tugged on fresh clothing in the place of her pajamas, and hurried into the hall. She caught only a flash of the human's orange hair before the door thwacked closed behind him. She darted in his wake.

Eleven days had passed since Hiei commanded her to break her chains. Eleven days since her mind and spirit and soul had melded so entirely with his. Eleven days of waiting, watching the shadowed trees out her window, stretching her senses to their fullest in hopes of catching the barest glimmer of his presence.

Nomi's fate may very well be gripped in the fire demon's callused hands.

For that reason, if no other, the clock was ticking on his return.

And if the irritation she heard in Kuwabara's voice was anything to go by, today would prove another day of waiting.

Throwing open the sliding door, she nearly collided with Kuwabara's back as she hurtled into the weak dawn light. With a surprised grunt, the human stumbled forward a step. "Damn it. Urameshi, if that's you—"

"Morning, Kalanie," Botan greeted cheerfully, though Kalanie did not miss the elbow she slammed pointedly into Kuwabara's ribs.

Kalanie dipped her head in greeting. "No word from Hiei yet?" It was an afterthought that she added, "Or Kurama?"

"Nope. Apparently a twelve day countdown means a ten day vacation to those guys."

"Now, Kuwabara, I'm sure that's not true. Maybe they've found something." Botan wagged a warning finger his way. "If they come back with a solid plan, you'll feel bad for doubting them this way."

"Not if it's too late to even put that plan into motion! The transport is supposed to happen tomorrow. Tomorrow, Botan. We're running out of time."

Kalanie paced to the railing. Her fingers curled around the wood, her iron gloves flowing like smooth water at her merest urging. A few flakes of rust frosted across her knuckles. This iron was due for replacing soon. "What if they don't return?"

"Excuse me!"

The high-pitched squeal of Botan's panic shattered the morning's quiet, but Kalanie kept her tone level as she answered. "What if they've been caught? Or, worse, killed? What then?"

Because Nomi still needed to be rescued. He had to be. With or without a plan.

"We're not talking about this." Botan plastered her hands on her hips, frowning sternly. "Not one more word. The boys will come back and we will rescue your brother. Don't you dare say otherwise!"

An unrealistic sentiment if Kalanie had ever heard one.

Sighing, she released the railing and started down the steps. She couldn't bear another day in the shrine's quiet halls. The waiting was too much. It had given the anxiety that thrummed like an ever-present parasite in her chest too much room to bloom, and every second that passed felt like a second that pulled Nomi farther from her grasp.

"Hey, wait!" Kuwabara leapt down the steps, landing with a thud behind her, and latched onto her shoulder.

She turned to him. "Yes?"

He rubbed a sheepish hand through his hair. "Well, I've been thinking. We don't really know what you can do. In a fight, I mean. And since the others are all heading to Demon World… It'd be good if I knew what you can handle."

Averting her gaze, she glared into the distant trees. "I'm not a particularly skilled fighter."

"Yeah, okay, sure. So you claim. But the thing is, after six years around you demons, I know your definition of skill doesn't quite match mine." He leaned forward, sticking his face directly into hers. "So what kind of skill are we talking about here? Could you take on Jin? Or Rinku? Maybe Shishiwakamaru?"

Her gloves clinked softly as she curled her fingers into fists. "None of them."

And it wouldn't be close.

She couldn't put up so much as a struggle against fighters of their caliber. They'd crush her in a few measly seconds. One solid wind attack from Jin and she may very well never get up again. No amount of iron in the world would give her the strength to compete with them.

After all, as he'd so often loved to joke, Nomi had inherited their mother's true power. Not Kalanie.

And look where that had got him.

"What about me?" Kuwabara asked, his curiosity undeterred. He was so close she felt his breath hot against her cheeks. It stank of a strange mix of coffee and cinnamon, thanks no doubt to the overly sweet porridge Yukina had taken to cooking for breakfast. "Could you take me?"

She snorted. "Do I really need to answer that?"

Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes accusingly. "That sounds like an insult. And I'll have you know, I'm stronger—"

"It wasn't. An insult, that is. If I can't beat Rinku, I certainly can't beat you. Or have you forgotten about the Dark Tournament?"

"Well, he's gotten stronger since then."

"And you haven't?"

Leaning against the porch's railing, Botan chimed in. "Kuwabara, dear, I do believe you've lost the plot."

"Oh, right." He straightened to his full height and frowned down at her. "Here's what I'm struggling with: if you're so weak, why the heck is Masaru dead set on getting you back, huh? Why not just release your Binds and find himself a new puppet?"

Whatever goodwill she'd been feeling toward him evaporated like so much smoke between her fingers. "This might shock you, Kuwabara, but there's more than one kind of power in these worlds and he couldn't care less about the power I possess. But controlling me—owning me—that's a power he loves."

"Why though? What makes you special?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, blacking out the world. Hell, what she would have given to walk away from this conversation and never return. "You'd have to ask him."

But that wasn't true.

She knew it wasn't.

It was her fault he'd obsessed with her. Her fault for not breaking sooner. Her fault for continuing to fight, long after most puppets were nothing but useless husks. Her fault that her love for Nomi kept her alive and resistant and clinging to hope, even if it were hidden under layers and layers of defeat.

And, worst of all, her fault for escaping.

A snarl worked its way into her throat. The ferocity in it startled Kuwabara. He stumbled back a step, hands held up as if to prove he meant no harm.

"You want to see what I can do? Then fight me. I'll show you. After that, leave me be."

He hesitated a moment, his gaze flicking to the porch as if confirming Botan thought this was a good idea. Whatever the ferry girl responded must have been enough to affirm his decision, because soon he was shucking his coat, leaving himself in nothing but loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt.

"Right then," he said, swinging his arms to loosen them up. He paced farther away from the shrine, clearing space to keep any fallout of their battle from reaching Botan. "No serious injuries, got it? No aiming to maim or injure or kill."

Answering with a wordless grunt, she sank to her knees and plunged her fingers into the soil. Her energy snaked from her hand, fissuring deep into the earth to the stores of iron far below. It flowed back to her in a rush. She let it glide over her skin and above her clothes, forming fluid armor across her joints.

"Keep it clean, you two!" Botan called, and when Kalanie spared her a glance, she saw the woman fretting her hands, bouncing anxiously from foot to foot.

If she weren't enraged, she might have rolled her eyes. Neither Kuwabara nor Botan had anything to worry about. They'd see that soon enough.

Kuwabara settled into a fighting stance. "Ready?"

At her nod, his spirit sword blazed to life, its hilt clutched in both his hands, but he remained otherwise motionless, waiting for her to make the first move.

She wished she could surprise him, produce some feat of brute strength to throw him off balance, but pure physical power had never come to her, no matter how desperately she'd sought it years ago. Nor could she attack at a distance. Her iron reacted only as long as she maintained contact with it.

Which left her but one choice.

Her superior speed.

Coaxing her iron into a sword of her own, she launched herself across the grass. Kuwabara reacted instantly, his spirit sword cutting in a blazing arc. Sparks flew from her blade as they crashed together, but before he could lock her into a battle of sheer strength, she darted beneath his guard, twisting her knee up and into his gut.

He staggered, and she followed. Her iron shifted again, the sword rushing back to her and reforming as studded gloves across her knuckles. She landed three quick strikes—two to his ribs, one to his face—before he recovered.

His answering fist caught her squarely in the stomach. The blow knocked her off her feet, and as she scrambled to regain her balance, his spirit sword arced downward. Only a rolling dodge kept her chances alive. Panting, an animalistic need to survive drumming in her temples, she gathered her balance and lunged back to the offensive, but he met her blow for blow.

He wasn't trying. Not fully. Using his spirit sword rather than his dimension sword was proof enough of that, and even if it weren't, she could see the truth in his eyes—his surprise that she'd been true to her word. She was no match for him.

Really, it wasn't even a contest.

She couldn't be sure how long they carried on before he decided to end it. Ten minutes? Twenty? But by the time he shifted his grip on his spirit sword, she was ready for it to be over. She felt every aching hit he'd landed, every kick and punch and cut of his sword. No doubt she'd be feeling them for days.

Still, she caught his final attack against a single forearm. Her boots skid an inch in the dirt, but she refused to buckle as he leaned his full strength into his sword. The iron coating her arm flaked to rust almost more quickly than she could replenish it, sloughing away like some sickly second skin.

But then, just as her legs were about to buckle, Kuwabara's gaze tore from hers, darting to something at her back. The pressure he'd been exerting let up so quickly she stumbled.

"What are you doing—"

A hand knotted in her hair, jerking her head back. The cold press of steel settled against her throat.

She needed no guesses to name her attacker.

"Hiei!" Kuwabara yelled, his spirit sword flickering out of existence. "Let her go! This isn't—"

Kalanie gave him no chance to finish.

In two quick movements, she curled one hand around Hiei's katana and drove her other elbow into his ribs. At the touch of her fingers, his blade turned molten, the steel bending to her will, and as his grip released her hair, she whirled.

Logically, she should have ended it there. Allowed Kuwabara to explain. Stalked off into the woods as she'd originally planned.

But she did none of those things.

Hurling her power deep into the earth, she summoned fresh iron and struck out at Hiei. Metal flowed from her skin to his, encasing his arms in immovable steel, then streaked down his legs and rooted him to the ground. She poured every last bit of iron she'd unearthed into the attack, trapping him so thoroughly he couldn't even drop the useless hilt of his ruined katana.

It left her breathless, her energy entirely depleted. With a hollow laugh, she dropped to one knee. Only a palm splayed against the ground kept her upright.

"Release me." Hiei's power crackled through the air, the sheer heat of it causing fresh sweat to bead across her forehead.

She peered back at him, refusing to back down before his glare. Let him see what she could do, that she was not entirely without defenses. Perhaps she couldn't win an out-and-out fight, but she had her tricks. No one could survive the forest around this shrine for three months without some skill.

It seemed suddenly important that he realize she was more than a weakling to be brushed aside—even if she was worth little more than that.

Kuwabara's shadow slanted over her. "Serves you right, shrimp." He offered a hand to pull Kalanie to her feet. "I say you leave him there. Maybe a little time as a statue will teach him not to interrupt a fight he knows nothing about."

Perhaps she should have. A certain piece of her—the sliver that wanted to trust these people—screamed to abandon him, to walk away and let him sort it out on his own. After all, his interference with their fight could mean only one thing: he'd thought she'd betrayed them. He'd attacked to protect Kuwabara.

Never mind that she'd already been thoroughly beaten.

But the rest of her knew better. Leaving Hiei sheathed in steel solve nothing. Especially not when he'd only done what she'd asked him to. He'd kept his guard up. He was watching her, waiting for the moment she stopped being Kalanie and fell back beneath his control. That moment might never come, but it if did—and Kalanie was sure it would, someday—then she needed someone to be ready.

If that had to be Hiei, so be it.

Besides, she'd made her point. That much was clear in the particular curl of his smirk and the haughty, confident gleam in his eyes.

Hell, how could he set her aflame so damned easily?

Without a word, she pulled away from Kuwabara and slapped a hand against the iron coating Hiei's shoulder. One brush of her energy sent the metal spilling downward, freeing him.

Around the roaring in her ears, she vaguely made out his voice, but she didn't try to make sense of whatever he'd said. Instead, iron trailing her in a molten wave, she broke for the trees.

For once, no one came after her.

Human World was so miraculously bright. The trees. The sky. The sunset. Each shone with a brilliance that left Kalanie breathless, every so slightly off kilter.

The colors here were nothing like those at home. In Demon World, everything was awash in color—the sky the rusty red-brown of dried blood, the grasses a muddy mix of yellow and brown and orange, the trees full of leaves in cold purple and blue tones—but all of it muted. As if some Spirit World deity had mucked up the saturation when they'd brought the demon plane to life.

That wasn't so in Human World.

Through the detectives' barrier, Kalanie couldn't see the sky, not properly, but she'd spent weeks sleeping beneath its open expanse. Its blue was so brilliantly bright and cheery, glinting to every stretch of the horizon like some strange, inverted sea.

It would be—she had no doubt—Nomi's favorite part of this place.

Kalanie remained in the forest for hours.

For a time, she simply hunkered against the barrier, nursing her bruised and battered body, but by noon, she grew restless. In the pandemonium of Hiei's return, she hadn't noticed Kurama had rejoined them as well. Now, though, she could feel them all—the detectives and their myriad allies—gathered in the shrine.

She debated attempting to join their talks. Surely, after all, Hiei and Kurama had learned something. If they hadn't… No. She couldn't entertain that worry. Because she was counting on them—Nomi was counting on them—and she refused to believe they would leave the temple come morning without a plan to rescue him.

So she debated, but in the end, she never cleared the tree line. She couldn't. As weak and useless as it might make her, she couldn't.

In the dappled light of the wood, she lost herself in a way she hadn't in weeks. She let go of everything. Of Nomi. Of tomorrow's impending battle and the role she was forbidden to have in it. Of every worry and thought that had kept her tossing and turning in her too soft bed.

She returned to what she'd been after escaping him—a thoughtless creature guided by instinct. There was the whisper of iron calling to her soul, the rush of a breeze through her hair, the evergreen scent of the forest, and little else.

No thoughts. No emotions.

No worries.

But as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and darkness swept like a shroud across the trees, a commotion near the shrine at last drew her back. It took her a moment to place it, the sound drifting through the branches. Soft and melodious. Then louder as she drew closer, rolling to her through the shadows.

Music.

In the clearing before the temple, the detectives had built a fire. Its licking flames danced into the night sky, sparks spiraling upward before falling back to the earth in languid twirls. A crew of them sat around it on blankets, all bunched together in a circle.

From the trees, she could see Yusuke and Keiko's faces, the firelight illuminating the gentle curves of her cheeks and the rough lines of his chin. The human girl leaned into the half-breed, her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder, his jacket hugged tight around her narrow frame. He had one arm looped around her, and with the other, he nursed a bottle of liquor—beer, the human slaves had called it in the tavern where she'd met Mazou.

Knots of demons and psychics milled about. She spotted a gaggle of young psychics bunched around Genkai. The old woman had never looked so animated as she was then, busily regaling the teens with some story Kalanie couldn't quite hear. Across the clearing, Jin hovered twenty feet in the air, roaring with laughter as he twirled Rinku's yoyos around his fingers. The younger demon leapt and spat and cursed, demanding the shinobi return to solid ground and fight him like a man.

It was in searching for the source of the music that her attention roved back to the fire. The notes seemed to emanate from contraption set at Kuwabara's side. She recognized his silhouette by the shape of his hair and his booming laughter. Like Yusuke, he clutched a beer.

A quick glance confirmed most of the attendees were likewise encumbered. Botan and Yukina, sitting on the porch's steps. Shizuru, strolling to Genkai's side. Even Kurama and Hiei, seated across from Yusuke at the fire.

And they all seemed to be laughing, enjoying themselves. Almost as if this were some sort of celebration.

A party before the end of the world.

Whatever it was, she felt decidedly out of place watching them, like some interloping stranger come to ruin their night, but as she turned to meld into the trees, a voice rose in a shout behind her. "Hey, Kalanie! About time you showed your face!"

She sank her teeth into her lip, but turned and raised a hand in a half-wave. "I didn't mean to intrude—"

"Don't even finish whatever excuse you're about to make!" Scrambling to his knees, Yusuke shoved his bottle into the air. "Ever had a beer?"

"No."

"Then get your ass over here and get one!" His words tumbled into each other, all crushed together as if he'd forgotten the proper cadence of speech. "Hiei, Kurama, make space. Kuwabara, get the girl a drink!"

And that seemed to decide it. There was a flurry of activity as they shifted, a gap opening for her to Hiei's left. By the time she reached it, an open beer was waiting, a light mist bubbling up the bottle's neck. She took it from Kurama uncertainly, then settled onto the blanket. Heat warmed her front and right side in equal measure, the fire and Hiei seemingly even matched.

Slumping back onto his butt, Yusuke twined an arm around Keiko once more and launched into a story Kalanie didn't attempt to follow. In moments, it was as though the interruption her arrival generated had never happened. In the midst of a sweeping hand gesture from Yusuke, Kuwabara interjected, and the two devolved into jibes and laughter. All the while, Keiko listened with a happy smile, her eyes half-closed, her drink forgotten in her lap.

Kurama raised his beer and winked. "Drink, Kalanie. Don't try to make sense of it."

She did not drink. "What is all this?"

Silent laughter lit in Kurama's eyes. "Fair enough. An explanation then. What you've stumbled on here is a tradition of ours." His gaze shifted over her head, settling on Hiei, but she didn't try to catch the look that passed between them. "Ever since the barrier came down, there's been much to mourn and far too many battles to fight. Botan thought—and I agree—that we could use something to bolster us, something to remind us of why we're fighting. So before days like tomorrow, we come together and we tell stories and we laugh and—more than anything—we try to remember each other as we are, rather than as we might become."

"Hn. Sentimental human nonsense."

"Yet here you sit, Hiei."

The fire demon bristled, but made no further argument.

They were close enough to touch. If she reached out, she could tangle her fingers in his.

It startled her how tempting she found the thought.

Tentatively, watching the firelight dance off Hiei's sharp features, Kalanie raised her bottle to her lips. The beer slid down her throat, cold and refreshing and nothing like she'd expected. "It's so… weak."

"You might be surprised to find humans enjoy drinking for purposes other than seeking oblivion." Kurama took a swig of his own beer, emptying the less dregs of it, then rolled the bottle between his palms. "I believe this was our last case. A shame."

Or not. For Kalanie's money, a bottle of giantkiller or a shot of blood whiskey was better than this human swill.

"You know," Yusuke said, raising his voice until all eyes swung his way, "Kuwabara's got some explaining to do."

"What are you on about, Urameshi?"

"Well, last I recalled, you had an honor code, didn't you?" Yusuke angled the neck of his beer in Kalanie's direction, ignoring Kuwabara's undignified squawk, and continued, "Does Kalanie not qualify as a girl or something? Because those bruises you gave her are something nasty."

Without thought, Kalanie raised her bottle to her cheek, pressing its cool barrel to the bruise mottled across her jawbone. "I initiated it."

"Damn right, she did!"

Yusuke shrugged one lazy shoulder. "Seems like a bullshit excuse to beat up a girl to me, but I guess it's your honor code, so…"

"Are you asking for a fight, Urameshi? Because it sure sounds like you are. Don't make me bruise you worse than I did her!"

"As if you could."

Roaring indignantly, Kuwabara thundered to his feet, then swung a punch Yusuke's way and nearly staggered straight into the fire. With a sleepy yelp, Keiko scrambled out of the way as Kuwabara careened into the half-breed. A moment later, the two men were entangled in a mess of sluggish kicks and missed punches, rolling about in the dirt as if they had not a care in the world.

Chuckling lowly, Kurama stood, dusted off his pants, then crossed to Keiko and helped her to her feet. "I think I'm in need of another drink. How about you, Keiko?" They drifted off together, leaving Kalanie alone with Hiei but for the writhing mass that was Yusuke and Kuwabara.

Staring into the crackling flames, she took another long draught from her beer. Then, soft as a whisper, she murmured, "Thank you. For remembering. For intervening. "

Hiei's response was so slow in coming she began to think he hadn't heard her, but at last, his chin dipped down a single degree.

In the ensuing quiet, her heart beat loud as a drum in her ears. Her body still remembered the plodding pace of his pulse, slow and powerful and so much grander than her own. Would she ever forget how it had felt?

As Yusuke and Kuwabara at last fell still, collapsing onto their backs in the dirt, she drained the last of her beer and readied to stand. Whether she intended to retreat into the woods or find another bottle she hadn't yet determined, but no sooner had she begun to rise than Hiei reached out, his hand encircling her wrist.

In an instant, she was back in the kitchen weeks ago, clutching his arm as he uttered Nomi's name. Now, they stood reversed, but the effect was the same when he murmured, "We will free Nomi. I will."

He released her then, his hand shifting back to his raised knee, but she made no move to leave him. Not then. Not an hour later as Genkai and Kurama ushered the human girls off to sleep. Not even at midnight when Yusuke drifted inside, Kuwabara slumped against his shoulder.

Only when the fire had burned down to little more than coals did she stir. Hiei moved in turn, rising in a rustle of black cloth, but they exchanged not a word as they parted ways, Kalanie retreating to her bedroom and Hiei slipping deeper into the shrine.

Still, she knew—deep in her bones—that he would fight for Nomi as she would, that though she would be absent in tomorrow's fight, Nomi wouldn't be alone. In that, she found comfort.

However little it might be.

AN: Some of you have been asking to see Kalanie fight, so I hope this chapter satisfies that a bit! The scene at the end with the whole gang gathered took me ages to work out. It's hard to account for so many people all at once, but I hope I struck a good balance.

Last chapter got less reviews than most, but those of you who reviewed really seemed to love it, which makes me so happy! I hope you enjoy this one just as much!