A quiet fell over the shrine as Kalanie returned to her room. It seemed Botan and Yukina had finished healing the wounded, and they'd all hunkered down, sleeping off their exhaustion despite the noonday sun beating in through the windows. The calm left a panic bubbling inside her, clawing its way to the surface. In it rang the crushing truth, the reality that her last tenuous hope to rescue Nomi had gone up in smoke.

She was only too happy to pause in the kitchen doorway when Kuwabara called out to her.

"Hey, Kalanie! There you are." He offered her a tight smile and gestured guiltily to the bowl of ramen he'd been slurping down. "Calling on the dimension sword always leaves me starved. Need any lunch?"

Her hands hidden behind her back, she dug a nail into her palm, forcing her heartbeat to stay steady, keeping her breathing slow and even. "I'm all right. Thanks, though."

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"I'm sorry about your brother. We didn't want it to go like this." His dark eyes flicked toward the front yard. "Did the shrimp use his name? Out there, I mean? Nomi or something like that?"

She nodded.

He leaned back against the counter, bracing his elbows against the wooden surface. "I didn't realize you'd told us his name."

"I hadn't. Only Hiei."

She wanted out of here. Away from this conversation and anything to do with Hiei. She couldn't handle it. Not now. Not on top of everything else.

Kuwabara raised a brow. "You were with him right now, yeah?"

"Can we not do this?" She rocked onto her heels, tensed to bolt. "I can't. Please."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Sure thing." His uncertain smile faded. "Hey, look, I know you probably don't have it in you right now, but any chance you could take sentry duty for the afternoon? Jin was supposed to be out there today, except he's sort of down for the count, and I want to be around in case any of the guys need me."

Perfect. An excuse to flee the shrine. Exactly what she'd needed. "Of course."

He grinned. "Great. You just need to monitor the barrier. Around the tent camp, especially. I'll probably sense any intruders around here—"

"The encampment?" She crossed her arms. "I thought I wasn't supposed to head that way."

He rolled his eyes and shoved away from the counter, scooping up his bowl of ramen. "I told you that ages ago. Didn't you realize that doesn't matter now?"

No. She hadn't. Not at all.

"But why?"

Disbelief flashed in his eyes. "Are you seriously asking me that?" He returned his bowl to the counter with a clatter and crossed to her in handful of strides. His hands settled on her shoulders, squeezing firmly as he frowned at her, his brow knotted. "Because we trust you, Kalanie. Because you're one of us now. You have been since the train station." He raised a fist and shook it in front her face. "Remember the fist bump? I thought we'd covered this."

Sure. In theory. But that was before she'd lost all semblance of control in front of their entire team—attacking Hiei, accusing them of betraying her. After that, she didn't deserve their trust, and that was without considering the Binds that still marred her skin.

"But I'm one of them. I'm still his puppet. I could—"

"Kalanie, no. Stop it." He shook her, firm but gentle, the gesture entirely without malice. "Listen to me. Commit this to memory. Trust is a choice. And I've made it. We all have. Me, Urameshi, Genkai, Kurama. Hell, even Hiei. We trust you, and we aren't changing our minds. So trust yourself, all right? And trust us. I think we've earned it."

She could barely stand to meet his gaze. The faith blazing in his eyes was boundless, leaving no room for doubt, no opportunity for misunderstanding.

"Say it," he said, a smile dancing at the edge of his lips. "If you trust us, say it."

"I trust you. All of you."

And, somehow, she did. Truly, she did.

Beaming, he released her and trotted back to his cooling ramen. "Good. Don't forget it this time. Anyway, I'll send someone out to relieve you of watch once I figure out who's up for it."

She swallowed down the knot in her throat. "No rush. I can handle it for awhile."

He slurped down a mouthful of noddles. "So you say, but no one should be stuck out there forever. If you sense any unknown energy signals approaching, just flare your energy and I'll be there in a second."

"Will do."

He shot her a thumbs up and she headed for the exit, but as she stepped out onto the sunlit porch he darted after her and called, "Oh, and Kalanie, next time you make out with the shrimp, try to hide it a little better, okay? Urameshi will never let you live it down otherwise."

"That's not what happened—"

He didn't listen. "Hey! There's no lying to me!"

His booming laughter rang in her ears for hours.

It took three days for the shrine to fall back into its regular rhythm. The men were battered, but more than that, they were shaken.

Over the years, the detectives had grown used to winning. Not always easily, but in the end, when they had to, they'd always won. The battle on the Plains of Peril hadn't been a victory. Far from it. They'd botched every objective they'd set for themselves. Not only had they failed to rescue Nomi, they also hadn't learned a stitch about Taku or his puppeteers.

The barrier fell again that night, nearly twelve hours after it had risen. What that meant, why it hadn't been synced to Nomi's presence in the bunker, not even Kurama could make sense of.

Still, life had to go on. Their resistance couldn't last without routine. The regular sentry patrols returned, but Genkai fit Kalanie into the rotation. Perimeter surveillance became the driving force in her days, the singular goal that was entirely hers.

In her free moments, she threw herself into the rest of the shrine's activities. For the first time, she joined their strategy meetings in full, listening in as Kurama outlined new reports from their allies in Demon Worlds and speaking up when she knew pieces they didn't. As always, her answers came in half-truths and stilted phrases, the compulsions that forever ruled her still hampering the full breadth of her usefulness.

Their training sessions at dawn became her morning wakeup call, and she grew to know the demons she'd once seen as mythic figures. Jin's quick tongue had her laughing in ways she could hardly remember while Chu's antics often left her speechless.

Now that she was paying attention, she recognized the bonds that held them all together. The crew of demons idolized Yusuke, always muttering amongst themselves about the day after all this was over when they would face him one-on-one, but it was Kurama they took their orders from. Foggy memories resurfaced of the reports she'd read about their time training together before the first Demon World Tournament, serving beneath Kurama in Yomi's army for a brief time. It seemed that old loyalty still held.

But through it all, no matter how ingrained in their routines she became, she remained always on the alert for Hiei.

Whatever it was that had transpired between them still baffled her, and she couldn't bring herself to confront it. Not properly. It brought with it too many questions. Why he'd reacted how he had. Why she'd reacted to him so readily. Worse still, whether she'd been using him in the way he'd claimed. Yes, it had been a distraction, but that wasn't why she'd melted into him so completely. And she wasn't ready to examine the truth behind the heat that coiled within her whenever he was near.

She might never be ready.

So she avoided him.

At meetings, she found cushions far from his. At meals, she ate in different rooms. At sparring sessions, she was always the first to find a partner—Touya, Jin, even Rinku, but never Hiei.

They could decimate her. Easily. Without hesitation. But she was getting better. Every day, she put up a bigger fight, pressing farther, lasting longer. Sometimes, when she pushed particularly hard, she even managed to control iron without direct contact—a feat she'd never dreamed possible.

At night, when she tumbled into her bed, exhausted from a day well spent, she imagined what her newfound power could do for her. She pictured him and all the ways she could destroy him. For years, she'd hoped she might one day spit him upon an iron sword. That image had lived within her for months upon months, the only thing that kept her floating when even Nomi became hard to remember, but now it paled in comparison to ways she might end him.

Her new plans mimicked those of Yusuke's crew. A blast of iron hurled like the half-breed's spirit gun. An iron whip. A thousand iron needles inspired by Touya's shards of winter. Spinning iron gloves modeled after Jin's tornado fists. So many options. All brutal.

The dreams in which she used them were the sweetest of her life.

But as with all her dreams, it was not long before they turned into nightmares.

The barrier crackled against her palm, as firm and impenetrable as ever. An oversight, she was sure. If she asked, she had no doubt Kuwabara would be perfectly content to let her pass beyond its blue light.

But she didn't ask.

A part of her—the cowardly, pitiful part of her that expected this uneasy peace to fall—took a comfort in it. As long as the barrier remained, she couldn't leave this place. Not even if he commanded her. Rather than her cage, it had become her shield. Her final line of defense.

And if the auras roving through the distant trees were anything to go by, she'd need it sooner than she could ever be ready for.

"It's a bunch of puppets. Nothing more," Genkai growled. Kalanie glanced at her sidelong. The old woman stood at her side, hands clasped behind her back, her sharp eyes tracking through the shadows dappled beneath the branches. "The boys will take care of it."

Perhaps. But Kalanie wasn't so sure. Because she recognized the feel of them, these puppets flitting along the edge of her awareness. They felt as Akio had, as Mazou did—though Kalanie had been too blind to realize it at first.

They were his.

And they were here for her.

"You don't believe me," Genkai said. A note of amusement danced in the statement, as if it were Kalanie's nerves rather than Genkai's nonchalance that was out of place. "The dimwit could handle that many puppets in his sleep. They'll be back shortly, none the worse for wear."

Kalanie tore a bit of chapped skin from her lip. "And if the puppets aren't after your boys?"

Genkai snorted. "Implying what? That they're after you instead? Unlikely. Taku wouldn't waste his forces on you."

Taku wouldn't, but he would.

Silence fell between them. Kalanie couldn't be sure what held her tongue. Fear? A compulsion? Some twisted combination of the two? Did it need a name if she had no intention to fight it?

The detectives returned not long after, emerging from the trees no different than they had departed, not so much as a stitch of clothing out of place.

Yusuke threaded his hands behind his head as he passed through the barrier. "Couldn't find them. Can sense the bastards sure as anything, but they're like ghosts out there."

Kurama nodded, though his focus flitted beyond the shield wall a moment longer before settling on Genkai. "Yusuke proposed waiting for the puppets to make a move on us here, and frankly, it may be our best course of action. There's no sense wasting our time searching for an enemy that doesn't want to be found."

A frown caught the corner of Genkai's lips. "Kalanie won't say it, but she believes these puppets are Masaru's. Here for her rather than all of you."

His name hit her like a blow. Would there ever come a day when it didn't make her flinch?

Judging by the way he shifted toward her, Hiei noticed her reaction, but she refused to acknowledge him. "They are his. I'm sure of it."

Yusuke clapped her heartily on the shoulder and leaned down to her eye level. "Maybe you're not used to this, but you're not the big fish in this pond. Even if these assholes are Masaru's, they're not going to be coming for you." He jabbed a thumb into his own chest. "They'll be after us. And we can handle them. No problem. Believe it!"

Beyond his shoulder, Kuwabara was pantomiming, pressing his knuckles together in a mockery of a fist bump. He mouthed something, and she caught the words trust and choice.

Trust them.

Make the choice.

Oh, how she wished she could.

That night Kalanie went to Maz.

Standing in the doorway of Mazou's cell, she cleared her throat. The dark-skinned demon rolled over, her eyes fluttering open. "Nie?"

"He's here, Maz. Somewhere in the mountains."

Mazou's lips pressed thing. "Masaru? How can you know that?"

"I just do. I do."

Mazou sat up. She knotted her fingers in her lap. "Why are you telling me? There's nothing I can do from in here."

"You deserve to know." Iron skittered up Kalanie's arms, sliding over her shoulders, but she stamped down on it. She wouldn't hide behind its comfort. She couldn't. Burying her head and ignoring him was how she'd get herself caught—and that couldn't happen. At any cost, that couldn't happen. "If he's after me— No. Not an if. I'm sure he's here for me. So if he captures me, I don't want him to get you, too. Not again."

"I don't think you get to decide that."

Fear fissured through her, so visceral she thought she might vomit right there in the doorway. "You're right, Maz. I don't. And I hate it. I hate him."

"I know, Nie. I know."

She didn't turn on the light as she stumbled into her bedroom. In the darkness, she could pretend she wasn't falling apart. More than that, fumbling through the shadows required all her focus, keeping her attention from the puppets dancing at the edges of her senses. They were out there somewhere, wandering through the trees.

Their presence made her sick.

"You're sure it's him."

Iron spikes sprouted from her knuckles as she whirled to the bed. Squinting, she could just make out Hiei's outline. Calmly, as if he'd been there a thousand times before, he sat with his back against the wall, one leg stretched out before him, the other bent at the knee, his arm braced against his thigh.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He ignored her. "How do you know it's him? What's convinced you Masaru is here?"

She winced. "Don't say his name."

"Masaru," he said without a flicker of emotion, as if he were discussing the weather rather than naming her tormenter. "Stop hiding from him. Stop giving him power over you."

The laugh that tumbled unbidden from her lips rang hollow. "Giving him? I don't give him anything, Hiei. He just takes it. Whatever he wants. Whenever he wants. And yes, he's fucking out there. I told Yusuke he was in Human World weeks ago. He's been coming for me since Maz. He's—"

"You knew he was in Human World?"

She bit her lip. It split beneath her teeth, blood welling against her tongue. "I saw him. When Mazou tried to teleport me. He was here. He is here."

"Come."

"What?"

Even in the gloom, she spotted the flash of heat in his crimson eyes. "Come sit. Beside me."

She had half a mind to argue, to banish him from her room altogether. He had no place here. Nor any right to give her orders. But far more than any of that, she craved company. Anyone's might have done, but if she were honest with herself—truly honest—his was best. She wouldn't turn it away.

The mattress dipped as she crawled to his side and drew her knees to her chest. His heat washed over her, slipping beneath her skin and sinking into her bones.

"What happens when he commands you?"

She rested her head atop a knee. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she studied him, trying to decipher the motive that had brought him here tonight. Whatever it was evaded her. "It's not… They aren't commands. Not like you're envisioning. He doesn't have to mean it like an order. Intention isn't necessary."

His jaw tightened. "Don't speak in riddles."

"Easier said than done. You're asking questions. That makes my answers his secrets. And I can't talk about secrets."

For a beat, he said nothing. His aura flared, the heat emanating from him ratcheting up a notch. Only as he sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly through his nose did she realize he was striving for patience, fighting to stave off frustration—at her or at him, she wasn't sure.

"Kurama has researched these Binds of yours thoroughly since you got here. He knows every secret they have to hide. We all do. But I want to hear it from you. So tell me."

She didn't let herself dwell on the truth in his words, if there was any at all. Think about it too long and a compulsion was bound to set in. "Then you should know a puppeteer's every word is law. Any declarative statement is utterly binding. You've used a dozen of them just now. Come. Sit. Don't speak in riddles. Tell me. If you were my puppeteer, every single one would compel me. You didn't mean them like commands. You weren't even thinking to control me, not in the way you seem to think he'd need to, but it doesn't matter."

Now that she'd started talking, she couldn't stop. Truths she'd bottled up for years burst forth, desperate to be heard. "Yes, he's ordered me to do things. He's commanded me to kill humans. He's compelled me to fight my friends. He's made me hurt myself for no other reason than he was bored and needed a moment's entertainment. But none of that… Those aren't the things that matter. Controlling my body isn't controlling me. I know those choices aren't mine. I know those are contractions of my muscles and nothing more."

A knot rose in her throat, long-ignored torment turning her breathing ragged, but she swallowed it down and forged on. "It's the other commands—the ones that alter me—that are horrible." Squeezing her eyes shut, she adopted a mockery of his voice—that stupid, lilting tone that haunted her nightmares. "Smile for me, Kal. Don't be sad, Kal. Tell me how much you want me, Kal."

A low growl thrummed in Hiei's chest. His shoulder bumped hers as he shifted. It scorched like unbridled fire.

Fighting off a sob, she buried her hands in her hair, pressing her nails deep into her scalp. "Hiei… Do you know what it is to feel emotions that aren't yours? To think thoughts someone else has planted within you? That is where his power lies. I'm not the weakling you think I am for breaking beneath the chains he's shackled me with. I am not—"

His hands encircled her wrists. The blazing heat of them stole her breath away, but he was painstakingly gentle as he pulled her hands from her head.

She hardly dared look up. Tears gathered along her eyelashes, shameful in their weakness. Her vision was blurred too much to see him properly, but she felt him kneeling before her as his hands released her wrists and rose to her face. One blistering thumb traced across her jaw, catching a tear that had tumbled down her cheek.

"Enough," he said. The rumble of his voice vibrated through her, deep and powerful, yet utterly disarming. Her breath stuttered. "I've heard enough."

Of course he had.

Hell, how disgusted he must be, seeing her for what she truly was. Fractured. Broken. Always one moment away from coming apart at the seams.

Perhaps she'd had him fooled. Before tonight, maybe he'd believed in the hard edges she fought so hard to maintain. Maybe he'd fallen for the illusion that they were more than her shattered pieces, jagged and ill-formed.

But now…

Now, he knew the truth.

A growl brewed in his chest. "Stop. Whatever you're thinking. Stop."

An animalistic sort of terror fluttered at her ribs as she tore her gaze from his, but he didn't let her escape him. His thumb tipped her chin upward. For a second, she saw him—really and truly. Normally, he wore his ferocity like armor, keeping others at bay, always a moment away from snapping at them, but now that simmering rage had fallen away. In its stead, she saw a demon driven by the same crushing loneliness she'd faced since Nomi was taken from her, and she saw, too, what had begun to grow beside that emptiness—loyalty to the others in this shrine, an unwavering need to protect the sister who hardly knew him.

And last of all, she saw how he recognized those same feelings in her. What that meant, how it affected his view of her, she couldn't be sure.

But she knew what it had done to her.

A wild emotion had lit within his eyes, and they flickered like twin flames as he said, "If he is here for you, we will fight him. We will beat him. He won't control you again. I swear it—"

"You swore to save my brother, too."

Maybe she shouldn't have said it, but he was so close, sliding beneath her guards, and a fluttering fear had taken root in her chest. There were lines she could not cross. Not now. Maybe not ever again. Certainly not without Nomi. And Hiei had already blurred that line so thoroughly. She couldn't let him continue to do so.

At her interruption, he stiffened.

Softly, she continued, "Promises don't mean anything, Hiei. Not when you can't keep them. And you can't promise this. No one can."

The truth of it hurt more than she could have imagined.

Suddenly exhausted, she pressed a hand against his chest. "It's late, and I have first watch. Go. Please."

He could have resisted—even if she were to fight with everything she had, she'd never move him against his will—but he rose without protest. Only he didn't make for the door. Instead, wordlessly, he crossed to the corner where she'd slept for days and sank down against the wall, extending his left leg and raising his right until he could brace his elbow against it.

She curled her hands into fists within her blankets. "You don't need to stay here—to sleep there. I can make it through the night."

His tongue flitted out to wet his lips. "Tell me to leave. If that's what you want, say the words."

"Hiei, you don't have—"

"Tell me to go."

She didn't.

He tilted his head the barest degree. A smirk curled his lips. "Hn. I thought as much."

AN: Sorry this one is coming a bit later in the day than usual! But I hope you all enjoy it as much you seem to have enjoyed last chapter! Your reviews were an absolute delight to receive (and they made it very, very hard to wait until Saturday to post). Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one.

(Also, K, if you're reading this. You = best. *looks left* he he he *looks right* ho ho ho)