"Let's talk logistics."

Sprawled on the floor, his head propped on the cushion meant for his butt, Yusuke shoved a hand into the air.

Kurama sighed. "Yes, Yusuke?"

"Define that word."

"Logistics?"

The half-breed drummed a hand on the floorboards. "That's the one."

"It means we should discuss the practicalities of Kalanie's request to fight alongside us. A list of pros and cons, so to speak."

Yusuke rolled his head to the side, his dark gaze honing in on Kalanie. She stared back, unfazed by the narrowing of his eyes. She'd been ready for this conversation from the moment Hiei had left her room the morning before, off for a much needed hibernation. No doubt Kurama would present—if not argue for—all the reasons she might prove a liability. But she was prepared for that. Let him try to insist she had no place in Nomi's rescue. He'd still be wrong.

Beyond the meeting room, the temple was quiet. Most of their ragtag resistance was still recuperating from the battle in the Forest of Fools. Only the former spirit detectives had gathered to decide her fate, assembling in the early hours of dawn. The first beams of sunlight spilled through the windows at her back, illuminating the foursome that had—despite all odds—saved her yet again.

Staring back at them, she sat tall upon her cushion, her hands folded in her lap. Iron gloves encased them once more, rippling from her fingertips to her elbows, hiding her Sovereign Binds carefully away. Though they'd been gathered for mere minutes, she'd caught Hiei looking at the steel three times already.

What he saw she couldn't be sure.

She hadn't encountered him again after he'd gone off to rest, but he must have told the others her request. Otherwise Kurama never would have called this meeting. For that, if nothing else, she suspected him to side with her. After all, why raise the issue if only to knock it down?

But what else did he feel looking at her hands. Guilt for compelling her? Disgust at her continued vulnerability? Annoyance that he had to watch his words around her? Or, dare she hope it, acceptance? The same steady determination she'd woken with that morning, sure as the rising sun that the Bonds could be overcome, that freedom still awaited her—that the right to choose might be hers again.

Yusuke yawned widely. "Get on with it then, Kurama. These logistics of yours better be damn worth dragging me out of bed at sunup." He jabbed a finger toward the fox. "Sometimes I swear you're worse than the old lady."

"I don't imagine it's as complicated as you believe," Kalanie said, shifting her focus to Kurama. "Hiei's ability to compel me means he cannot strip me of control. Not again. And in turn that means I'm of use in a fight, preferably one staged to rescue my brother."

The stiffness in Kurama's shoulders belied his efforts to appear at ease, giving away the stomach injuries that still hampered him. Whatever had occurred in the Forest of Fools—and the account she'd received from Botan had been too piecemeal for her glean an accurate picture—had left Kurama sorely wounded.

Likewise, Yusuke suffered, too, despite all his attempts at nonchalance. He'd deny it until his dying breath, but his lying down had seemed less a choice and more a necessity.

So they needed her. They'd be fools to deny it. Another fighter—and better yet, a fresh one—was a tool they couldn't turn away.

"I can't remain here indefinitely, watching as you fight back against Taku and his puppeteers. I've waited and I've watched for months now. And where did that get me? Back in Masaru's clutches." When she said his name, Hiei snapped to attention, the purple light of his Jagan deepening, as if perhaps he'd reached out to confirm Masaru's distant location. Clearing her throat, Kalanie continued, "I want to fight. I must fight."

The barrier had risen after her rescue. Which meant the damage she'd dealt to Nomi's Shell hadn't been enough to take it offline. Or, if it had, then Masaru had wrangled Nomi into the new Shell before their energy reserves ran out. Either way, they were still draining him.

That couldn't be allowed to continue.

Kurama's lips pressed thin. "And what happens if you're separated from Hiei? What do we do if Masaru seizes the opportunity and controls you again?"

"Then I've become the enemy and should be treated as such."

Until that moment Kuwabara had been quiet, slumped on his cushion, nursing a mug of coffee, but now he squawked and straightened. "Hell no. That's not happening, Kalanie. We're not—"

She cut him off. "Stop. Kurama is right to point out that possibility. If I end up captured, I'm a weakness. That can't be allowed. No more rescuing me." She shot Hiei a pointed look, but he remained unfazed, his features expressionless. "My brother needs to be your focus. Destroy the Shells. Get him back. That's how you end all this. I intend to be beside you in that fight, but if Masaru gets in the way, then cut me loose."

Yusuke pushed himself upright. "We're not really in the business of cutting our friends loose."

She curled her hands into fists and turned back to Kurama. He was the linchpin. Convince him, and the others' opinions didn't matter. She'd be in. But fail to convince him, and she'd likely never leave this shrine again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Kurama, but two conditions must be met for you to agree on my involvement."

He quirked a brow but said nothing.

"First is this—that if I'm recaptured, I don't become a distraction."

"Correct."

"Then consider this my formal permission to abandon me as lost if I fall under Masaru's will. I understand the liability I present. I accept that if I make mistakes, I will pay for them. I need you—Kuwabara and Yusuke—to accept that as well."

Kurama's jewel-bright gaze shifted to his teammates. "You understand why it needs to be this way, don't you?"

Yusuke grumbled, running a hand over his hair, but it was Kuwabara who nodded. His brow was creased, his lips tucked in a frown, but he didn't argue. "Yeah. I get it. I don't like it, but I get it."

"Good."

Kalanie bit her lip. "And your second condition?"

"You don't know it?"

She could hazard guesses, but she wanted to hear it from him. "Afraid not."

He was quiet a moment longer, appraising her, his scrutiny so intense that it took all her will to remain still and calm. Then his focus moved to Hiei. "Kalanie's involvement hinges upon you, Hiei. She requires you as her protection. You're her shield against Masaru's intervention."

"Hn. Get on with it, fox."

A prickle of unease raised the hair at the back her neck, but Kalanie remained silent as Kurama outlined his second stipulation.

"To move forward, I need confirmation that monitoring Kalanie won't compromise you. Her participation in our upcoming battles gets us nowhere if it weakens you." He tilted his head the barest degree. "How do you weigh that risk, Hiei? Are you confident you can balance protecting Kalanie with your own defenses?"

"Don't insult me."

"I'm not." Kurama spread his hands wide. "Consider the risks. If the two of you grow isolated, will you be able to fend off a dozen puppets and keep Masaru from compelling Kalanie? What if your odds are even worse? We all know you can fend for yourself, but I'm not so sure you can balance both your lives properly."

Hiei snarled, his hand falling to his katana's hilt. "I can maintain that balance just fine."

Kalanie expected Kurama to press the issues, to needle at Hiei until the fire demon cracked. What she didn't expect was for his emerald gaze to swing her way.

"And you, Kalanie. Can you bear it if your presence distracts Hiei? If he is injured—or killed—because he has divided his attention between the physical enemy and the Binds that rule you, can you live with that?"

No.

She couldn't.

But she had no chance to give that answer.

In a rustle of cloth, Hiei rose. His katana clinked free of its sheath. "Enough, Kurama. You've made your point. I understand the risks." His eyes cut to her, smoldering like flames. "As does Kalanie. They're worth taking."

The rest he left unsaid. The reason why. That Nomi was worth any risk.

And as he swept from the room and tore open the front door, Kurama chuckled lowly. "Then I believe that's decided. You'll be joining us, Kalanie. Let the repercussions be what they may."

A stiff breeze whistled through the trees as Kalanie wound her way into the forest. Birds trilled, flitting off through the leaves, and rustling in the undergrowth revealed some tiny creature scampering away, but she paid the animals little mind, her focus honed with exacting certainty on her destination.

Ahead, the barrier blazed, a bright blue net visible through the branches. She'd yet to confirm if she could pass beyond it unimpeded. If she could, she'd have to ask for that to be rectified.

It was one thing to encounter Masaru in battle—with Hiei at her side, able to combat any orders he threw her way—but it was quite another to run that same risk here, unprotected and susceptible. If he came for her, the barrier might prove her only defense until Hiei could reach her. She shouldn't be allowed through it unaccompanied.

But now wasn't the time to harp on that worry.

She'd slipped away from the temple as the others gathered for dinner. Hiei had witnessed her departure, but he'd made no move to follow and for that she was thankful. She needed a moment to herself, a chance to grieve over what she'd lost.

Mazou.

Vivid, bold Mazou.

Except she hadn't really lost that Mazou. The girl she'd known growing up had been long dead, ground out of existence beneath the sharp heel of Masaru's absurd dress shoes. What he'd left behind was only a semblance of her friend.

And yet it had been all Kalanie had left.

The trees thinned near the barrier, and as she stepped into the clearing, her gaze landed on a charred trunk visible through the crackling spirit energy. It stretched into the sky, a black mark against the forest's vivid green.

Other than the burnt husk, little differentiated this stretch of woods from any other along the domed barrier, but she'd have known it all the same. The lot of it had been seared into her memory, branded across her soul forevermore. This was where Masaru recaptured her. This was where she failed Nomi for the hundredth time. This was where Mazou died.

Here.

Not in that fortress near the Woods of War.

Because it was here that Maz had succumbed to Masaru's will. It was here that he'd debased her, stripping her of all her freedoms. By the time she'd teleported them to Demon World, she was already dead, her fate long since sealed.

Swallowing down the knot that had risen in her throat, Kalanie knelt in the dirt and pressed her fingers into the earth. Deftly, she sent her energy probing below, searching out the iron hidden beneath the surface. Her call was measured, and the metal that answered came slowly, emerging in a fluid stream and pooling in her palms.

She coaxed it into shape. A smooth placard formed, two inches thick, one foot by one foot. With trembling fingers, she set it against the base of a tree, nestling it into the roots, then rocked back on her heels and observed her handiwork.

The marker was a simple thing, plain and unremarkable. Nowhere near as grand as Mazou deserved. But it would do. It was something, and that would have to be enough.

Biting her lip, Kalanie traced a nail across the placard's surface. Ripples formed in the wake of her finger, the iron bending to her will. Five delicate letters appeared.

MAZOU.

Perhaps she should have carved more. Words about love and remembrance. Something to keep Maz alive in some distant, unknowable future. But Kalanie was all out of emotional resonance, and no insightful phrases came to her. Certainly nothing that could possibly capture all Mazou had been.

And so she etched nothing more.

Instead, she sat in the dirt, a million memories of Mazou blurring together into a muddled stream of fractured moments. How long until she began to forget them? Already they'd begun fading, their edges going hazy.

Off to her right, leaves crunched. She tore her gaze from the placard, her heart leaping into her throat. Iron coalesced as a knife in her hand, but the intruder wasn't an enemy and the blade melded back into her gloves.

"Yukina?"

The ice apparition ducked beneath a low hanging branch and dipped her head in quiet greeting. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Of course not."

Yukina glided closer, her hands folded within her voluminous sleeves. "I'm so glad you've been returned to us," she murmured as she sank to her knees at Kalanie's side. "I told you once before, but I think it bears repeating. Years ago, I was held captive. So I'm here if ever you need to talk. I know how isolating it can all feel, and I never want you to feel alone in this."

The faintest trace of a smile tugged at Kalanie's lips. "Thank you, Yukina. I appreciate it."

Yukina's eyes—so similar and yet so different from her brother's—lit with affection. She fiddled a moment with the hem of her yukata before her focus shifted to the placard Kalanie had constructed. "I didn't know her well, but Mazou seemed a wonderful soul. I'm sorry for all that happened to her."

Dully, Kalanie wondered how much of her role in Mazou's death Hiei had revealed to the others. Did Yukina realize how deeply Mazou's blood stained her hands? Had Hiei kept them all in the dark? Or did Yukina simply not care?

That seemed somehow impossible. The ice maiden was gentle and kind, full of a warmth that contradicted her kind's very nature. The brutality Kalanie left in her wake was likely unfathomable to Yukina, and yet here she sat, seemingly unfazed.

Kalanie cleared her throat roughly. "The Mazou you met was but a glimmer of my old friend. I wish you could have known the real her, not the shade that Masaru left behind." Closing her eyes, Kalanie bowed her head and whispered, "But then, I'd say the same about myself. I barely recognize who I am anymore. I'd give anything for you to know me as I was instead of as I am."

"But you don't have to be who you were. You know that, don't you? People change. Our lives change us. We're shaped by the good and the bad. Sometimes in equal measure, sometimes not. Either way, you never have to apologize for who you are."

"And if I don't like what I've been molded into? What then?"

"Then you keep changing." Her demure, ever-present smile faded a notch. "After Tarukane, I thought I was broken. I was afraid and lonely and certain I must remain that way—or else put those I cared about in danger. But I was wrong. And who I've become now… I never would have imagined this future for myself before I left the glacial village, but nor would I wish it any different. You can do that, too, Kalanie. The end is not over until we've written it."

She rose fluidly before Kalanie could answer, her yukata falling into place. "Don't stay out here too long. You need to eat, and Kurama is planning strategy talks for the morning. I'm sure you don't want to miss them."

Then she was gone, and only the howling wind remained.

Slowly—oh so slowly—Kalanie splayed a palm against Mazou's placard and turned her eyes to the sky. Somewhere out there, Spirit World waited. By now, Mazou's soul must have been processed, sent on to whatever afterlife she'd earned for herself. A peaceful one, Kalanie hoped. After everything, Maz deserved that much.

But did Kalanie?

Yukina seemed to believe so—or, at least, she thought the future wasn't yet forged in steel. She thought Kalanie still had time to grow, to become some new version of herself. One free of the chains she was shackled with. One who had saved her brother. One who'd toppled the monsters she'd helped raise.

If that chance existed, it would begin with rescuing Nomi, with avenging Mazou.

From there she'd work out the rest.

When Kalanie returned to her room, she found it occupied.

Hiei perched on the windowsill, his knees drawn to his chest, his gaze locked on the darkened sky. A tray of food rested at the food of her bed, steam escaping from the coverings over twin bowls.

Hardly daring to breathe, she eased the door shut. A day ago, she'd laid tangled in her bed with Hiei. For a brief blip, she'd been lost in him, consumed by his heat and the future he might represent. But once he'd gone, her uncertainties returned, and she couldn't begin to guess where those kisses had left them.

After a beat, he titled his head a degree, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You didn't eat."

Raising a brow, she toed off her boots and moved to the bed, careful not to jostle the steaming bowls. "I wasn't hungry."

"Not a good excuse." A breeze stirred his bangs, setting them dancing across his forehead. "If you want to fight, you need to be fit. Ready. At a moment's notice."

Rolling her eyes, she drew the tray closer. Beneath the bowls' lids, she discovered rice and stir-fry.

"Thanks for saving me this."

"Hn."

Silence fell, and in the quiet, the drumming of her heart echoed in her ears. Hiei watched her eat through narrowed eyes, as if convinced she wouldn't actually do so if he looked away for even a moment. Only once she'd scraped up the last rice grain and pushed away the tray did he at last spring from the window.

Then, wordlessly, he jerked his chin at the wall, the gesture a suggestion rather than a command. She slid backward until her spine hit the plaster, and he followed, coming to rest at her side, his shoulder pressed to hers. His heat blazed into her bones.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she murmured into the darkness, "So planning begins tomorrow?"

"Who told you that?"

"Yukina."

He stiffened, but without opening her eyes, she couldn't gauge what had rattled him. "The fox wants to make our first move in two days and to finish all this within the week."

She tilted her head against the wall and squinted up at the ceiling. "You think that's possible?"

"Hn. Kurama isn't prone to miscalculations."

She nearly laughed. Kurama might not often be wrong, but he'd been off enough to cast doubt. His plans to rescue Nomi on the Plains of Peril had fallen through. Who was to say these wouldn't fail as well?

Her disbelief must've been palpable, because Hiei's hand closed over her knee, his fingers curving across her skin. He squeezed once. "There'll be no mistakes. We'll end this."

Despite the erratic beat of her heart, she found herself nodding. "We have to."

And they did.

Because Nomi's time was running out. His body was frail, too beaten down to withstand the Shell much longer. In truth, even a week might be too long.

Hiei's grip tightened, and when he spoke, each word fell from his lips like shards of glass, tripping from his tongue as if he couldn't get them out fast enough. "I'm going to tell her."

Her.

It could have meant anyone. With another man, she might have thought he was speaking of some former—or perhaps not so former—lover. Or he could be referencing his former boss. The infamous Mukuro.

But she knew he meant neither.

With Hiei, there was only one her.

Yukina.

"That you're her brother?"

"Hn."

Perhaps it should've surprised her. The words certainly seemed to have startled him. But somehow, it didn't strike her as the revelation he'd thought it was.

"Good." With painstaking slowness, she entangled her fingers with his and drew his hand into lap. Gently, she traced her thumb across his palm, letting her nail catch in each groove and crease, studying the latticework of fine scars crisscrossing his skin. "She deserves to know."

Maybe she should have asked questions. Why had he hidden himself from Yukina to begin with? What had changed his mind? But he hadn't seem to have told her because he wanted to discuss his choice. Rather, he'd brought it up to make it real. In sharing his decision with her, he'd given it true life.

After all, if she knew anything about Hiei, it was that his word was binding. Now that he'd told her his intentions, his pride wouldn't let him back out of them.

His fingers flexed around hers, curling over her thumb and stilling its motion. "It's selfish," he growled with a curt toss of his head. "Telling her isn't a gift. It won't be the answer she wants. She'd be happier never knowing."

"That's not true—"

"It is," he snarled. "I'm not fool enough to think otherwise. But she must know. I intend to win this war, to kill Masaru and Taku and every last one of their soldiers, but if I fail—if we fail—then I don't want the truth to die with me." He swung his gaze toward her, his crimson eyes blazing. "I won't let her spend the rest of her life searching in vain."

The rest he left unsaid, but the pieces hung between them. This decision was because of her—because of Kalanie. She hadn't meant it to be. She'd never thought to change his intentions toward Yukina. Yet she had. Or perhaps, more correctly, Nomi had.

That much she could see.

His jaw flexed, his teeth grinding together as he glared at their conjoined hands. "There's more."

Of course there was. Nothing was ever simple. Not in her life.

"Whatever this is," he said, raising their hands with a tug of his wrist, "can't continue. Not like this. I won't walk down this path as we are. I can't live in constant vigilance over any accidental word, any ill-thought phrase. I won't risk compelling you inadvertently."

Her stomach bottomed out, panic clawing into her chest. She should've seen this coming. Yesterday, she'd caught him off-guard. He'd been exhausted, too bewildered by her advances to turn them away, too swept up in the moment to realize his own disgust.

Now he'd returned to his right mind.

It shouldn't have been a surprise.

She sank her teeth into her lip and released his fingers, attempting to withdraw her hand, but his callused grip held firm.

"Stop—" He spat a curse, scoffing derisively as he shifted toward her, his hold on her keeping her close. "I want you, Kalanie. And I will have you." The low thrum of his voice deepened further, his incisors flashing. "But not now. Not while you still wear your chains. Not when I stand at their other end."

She heard him as if at a great distance, his meaning sinking slowly past the roaring in her ears. He hadn't said what she'd expected. He hadn't pushed her away—at least, not forever.

His free hand rose, cradling her neck, his thumb tipping her chin upward. He kissed her hungrily, like a demon starved near to death. How long it lasted, she couldn't say, but it certainly wasn't long enough, and as he broke away, she leaned forward, trying to follow.

He held her at bay. "Even now, half the things I'd like to say would ruin this. One misstep and I'll compel you."

She sucked down a ragged breath. "But you won't have meant it. I know that. And I won't hold it against you."

Even as she uttered the words, the truth in them caught her off-guard. Two days ago, she railed against the idea of Hiei compelling her. She'd attacked him for it. But she knew better now. He'd never wield his influence over her intentionally. He—

"Hn. You misunderstand." He shoulders thudded back against the wall. "Yes, the idea of manipulating you disgusts me. I abhor the very prospect. But that's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

He answered with fierce intensity, his words sharp as knives. "I've gone over our conversation yesterday a dozen times, trying to confirm I never uttered a word to influence you, trying to be sure you kissed me out of choice, not because I willed it. Perhaps that's absurd. And yet, even now, I'm running through everything I said, looking for which misbegotten sentence compelled you." His fingers constricted almost painfully on hers. "It'll drive me insane, continuing on like this."

"Then don't. Stop dwelling on it." She rose on her knees, lifting her free hand to his cheek. "You didn't compel me. I chose this. I want this."

"Do you? How can I ever be sure?"

"Because you know what you said. I know what you said. There were no compulsions—"

"But what if I slip up?" At last—now that she least wanted him to—he released her hand and pulled free. In a beat, he was on his feet. "I won't allow it."

"Hiei, stop. Please."

But he didn't waver, and as he strode for the door, she realized he'd long since made up his mind. This explanation had been a courtesy, not an opportunity for debate. No amount of pleading would change his choice now.

"As long as you bear the Sovereign Binds, this is over," he said, head held high, eyes crackling with the same heat that had lived inside her for weeks—the scorching, stubborn essence of who he was. "I'll fight with you, I'll protect your mind, but nothing more."

Without another word, he swept into the hall. The door rattled shut at his back. His absence left her hollow. Utterly vanquished. And yet, despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to chase after him, because in the end, he was right. As long as the Binds were inked across her skin, she wasn't free. Not of Masaru. Not of Hiei. Her choices could be overruled with a handful of words, batted away like trivial nonsense.

Sinking sideways onto the bed, she thought again of Yukina and her conviction that Kalanie could still change, that she could meld her future into what she wanted it to be rather than whatever hell Masaru dictated for her. Inarguably, that future had to contain Nomi, but there was a place for Hiei in it, too.

She'd carve it out herself if she had to.

Which meant it was time to fight. For Hiei. For Nomi.

And—most of all—for herself.

For Kalanie.

AN: Oh man, this chapter was hard. It was the first written since I worked on revision for my original novel and getting back into Kalanie's head was strangely difficult. But I think I like how it's turned out. I hope you all do, too!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I received the most reviews yet, and it was a delight hearing from you all.