Please read Disclaimer in Chapter One.
Title: Maya's Tale (C3: A Necessary Deception)
Author: JaganshiKenshin
Genre: Action/Adventure, General
Rating: K+/PG-13
Summary: When Kurama wants to find an old acquaintance, he has no idea what he's up against.
A/N: As always, thanks for reading this, and I appreciate your reviews!
"She's a human girl! I don't dare!"
Maya's Tale (3: A Necessary Deception)
by
Kenshin
Hiei answered the door with a grunt of greeting, balancing a laptop in one hand, scarcely looking at Kurama.
His hair bristled like blue-black flames, a lightning-strike of white on the forelock; his crimson eyes bore a look of intense concentration, but that was merely business as usual.
There was the smell of good cooking from the kitchen, but Hiei appeared oblivious to that as well. The fact that Hiei did not remark on the aroma, nor even glance at Kurama's gift of Suntory whisky, constituted a radical departure from the norm.
Hiei retreated to a corner desk in the living room.
Setting the Suntory on a hall table, Kurama followed. His back to Kurama, Hiei was muttering at the laptop.
Kurama was tired, and bringing up the subject of Kitajima Maya was going to be awkward any way you cut it.
He was so busy working as a physician's assistant and studying for his upcoming Chem exam that he had almost cancelled this dinner invitation. He relented; the nature of his problem made it crucual to enlist Hiei's help.
But he was tired, and not sleeping well, and thinking at about three-quarters capacity. Clumsy though the opening gambit was, Kurama plunged in. "Kaa-san's been nagging me about grandkids again."
"Then this is your lucky day." Hiei didn't look up. "I have a couple to sell you cheap."
Intrigued despite his urgency, Kurama said, "What happened?"
In reply, Hiei swiveled the laptop around. Black pixels like spiders swarmed from the center of the screen out, devouring it in darkness. Hiei uttered a single word: "Michael."
"Your son did this? And he's only eight. Impressive."
"His idea of a joke."
"But why are you selling Cecilia?" Michael's fraternal twin was a model of decorum.
"Don't want Michael to be lonely in his new home."
"It is," Kurama said at length, "frequently difficult to tell whether you're joking."
"Who's joking? I'll even throw in CeeCee's pet hamster."
"Where are they now?"
"In the dungeon, probably racking up my phone bill."
"That's one clever hamster," said Kurama.
"You know who I meant." Hiei scowled at the blackened screen. "Grandchildren. What did your esteemed mother really do? Passed some kid in a stroller and smiled at him?" Shutting the clamshell case, Hiei muttered, "He broke it. He can fix it." Then he went to the hall table, unearthed the Suntory, and sloshed about half a liter into a heavy crystal tumbler.
If this had been anyone but Hiei, Kurama would have been dialing the paramedics. But Hiei's hummingbird metabolism insured even this outlandish amount of alcohol would burn off like early morning dew under a blowtorch.
"I'd offer you some," said Hiei, knocking back a long swallow, "but I disapprove of children drinking in my home."
Kurama snorted.
"So do I." Shayla Kidd sashayed in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a frilled green apron.
Shay-san was a transplanted American, a gray-eyed, elfin girl possessed of a fierce beauty, which she always disarmed with straight-from-the-shoulder chumminess. She wore yellow clamdiggers and a butter-yellow polo shirt. With her bright hair, the overall effect was that of an animated marigold.
Commandeering the drink from Hiei, she gave him The Look. "Shouldn't you be out back incinerating the main course?"
"Defeat," grumbled Hiei. "She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed has spoken." Giving the whisky one last longing gaze, Hiei strode into the kitchen, snagged a plate loaded with raw chicken, and led Kurama out the back door into the neatly-tended garden.
"We're out of earshot." Hiei jerked his head at the house. "That's double-paned glass."
"Why would I want to be out of Shay-san's earshot?"
"Try not to make me laugh. Incinerating a chicken requires strict concentration."
A hibachi grill sat smoking an old picnic table. Squinting at the fire, Hiei went to the charcoal bin, scooped a couple more coals into a starter chimney, then casually ignited them with a forefinger.
"Looks good," said Kurama.
"The coals or the chicken?"
"You must save a bundle on matches."
"Good. Pretend you're talking about something manly." The hiss of seasoned meat hitting a scorching-hot grill rose. Hiei was too busy to glance at Kurama. "You scared me back there."
"It's about to get worse. There's a person from my past I've been thinking about."
"A person? That narrows it down."
"I think you know her, too."
At last Hiei turned, and gave Kurama such a piercing look that Kurama felt he must be reading his mind.
"Are you seeing anyone?" Hiei said.
An unusual question, coming from Hiei. It sent a chill down Kurama's spine.
The two of them had been friends and allies for nearly a decade, and knew one another well, yet Hiei could still surprise him. "Seeing anyone?" said Kurama. "Not exactly."
Hiei prodded the bubbling chicken pieces with a forefinger, then flipped them. "Describe the 'not' part."
"I go out with a girl or two from my classes. Coffee. Movies. But they aren't-"
"-Maya," Hiei concluded.
Kurama went bloodless. "Who said anything about Maya?"
"Remember who you're talking to."
Kurama sighed. "I might have realized."
Kitajima Maya.
A lively, enthusiastic girl from Kurama's middle school, Maya had been interested in 'the occult,' as she put it, and was able to see low-level youkai, meaning she had a sixth sense.
One evening, while walking home together, Maya and Kurama had been attacked by Hiei. Eventually, it got sorted out: Hiei thought Kurama was part of a gang who might have captured his sister, Yukina. He'd meant no harm to Maya; she was just... in the way.
But while Hiei and Kurama were in the heat of battle, Maya was abducted and brought to the thug Yatsude, who had a taste for human flesh.
It had been Hiei's aura of bloodlust that alerted Kurama to his presence. Now, nearly a decade later, Hiei was calmer, more in control-and ten times as dangerous.
But back then, neither Hiei nor Kurama was powerful enough to defeat Yatsude. They joined forces and crushed him, and retrieved Maya-
-who was in love with Kurama.
Whatever else his faults, Hiei was not deaf.
Hiei busied himself with the chicken. Perhaps Kurama could diffuse Hiei's keen insight with some well-chosen insults regarding the picket-fence domesticity of the scene.
But Hiei hadn't changed that much. Kurama might end up sizzling on the grill alongside the chicken.
So he said, somewhat melodramatically, "I don't dare contact Maya. She's a human girl."
"Don't look now, but so is Shay-san."
"She's different."
"Different how?"
"She packs heat."
Hiei snorted. "That little mouse gun?"
"I meant her powers." Shayla Kidd was a Spellcaster. "And she's a seasoned fighter." Also somewhat melodramatically, Kurama lifted his head, adding, "Maya is... an innocent."
"Time's up."
"I don't know whether to be relieved or surprised."
"These are boneless, skinless chicken breasts."
"That explains everything."
"Which means expensive. They burn, I'm blaming you." Hiei had the fragrant chicken on a plate in a flash. "Open the door for me. I haven't got all minute."
Shrugging, Kurama conceded the first part of the battle.
Dinner was excellent, as usual. In addition to the seared chicken, there was also American-style potato salad, arugula dressed with clementines and sesame oil, and coconut cake.
Michael and Cecilia ate in the dungeon (otherwise known as 'the finished basement').
After dinner, Hiei uncorked a brandy, and Shayla Kidd uncorked a surprise. Turning her gumdrop eyes on Kurama, she purred, "When was the last time you saw this girl?"
Kurama raised both eyebrows at Hiei.
"I didn't say a thing." Hiei measured two fingers of brandy into a snifter. "She's a Spellcaster, not a mind-reader." Violating his own 'rule,' he passed the brandy to Kurama. "Though she is female."
"That's so sweet of you to notice." The female Spellcaster rose from the table and busied herself with the phone.
This was not going as planned. Far from passing off a simple deception, and enlisting Hiei's help, Kurama was on the run. A worried frown creased his brow. "Who's she calling?"
"Have the brandy," Hiei urged. "You'll need it."
"Not Maya?" A flush rose on Kurama's face that had nothing to do with the brandy. "You wouldn't-"
"I just did." Shay-san held out the phone. "Here."
"I can see where Michael gets his-"
"Don't insult my intelligent and industrious son," Shay-san interrupted. "That won't get you off the hook."
"Sometimes," Kurama muttered, "I almost hate you."
"No, you don't." With a smile that was nine parts honey and one part wasp venom, Shayla Kidd collared both Hiei and the laptop, then dragged them down into the dungeon.
Privacy. Kurama cleared his throat.
Of course Maya remembered him. She had, in fact, just been thinking of him.
And that, thought Kurama, going on automatic pilot for small talk, was in itself strange.
Because Kaa-san's offhanded remark, which had exactly nothing to do with Kurama, and had in fact gone exactly as Hiei had surmised, was just an excuse to broach the subject.
Kurama had been thinking of Kitajima Maya, too. But as though she was in danger.
That recurring dream of his-what if it was true?
Even with a few rough edges scraped off, Hiei was still Hiei. Had Kurama mentioned his dream, and suspicions, Hiei would say something like, "Let's go kill whoever's threatening her. Come on, it'll be fun."
Hence, the necessary deception.
Not that Kurama would mind seeing the girl again. But now, when he was so overloaded-
Kurama tuned back into the phone conversation. Maya's voice was as bright and sweet as he remembered. But that, he reminded himself, was not the point.
By the time Maya had agreed to meet with Kurama, Hiei and Shay-san emerged from the dungeon. The laptop remained.
There was still some cake. All innocence now, Shayla Kidd angled the cake stand at Kurama, but he shook his head, wondering, "How did you track down Kitajima Maya's phone number and have time to make potato salad?"
"You're not the only detective around here," she replied.
"Women," muttered Hiei.
"You really are too kind, Shay-san," Kurama said hastily. "I sometimes worry that I may be imposing on you."
She ambled into the living room with a sliver of cake and a brandy for herself. "Imposing?"
"As in using too much of your time, energy and resources."
"Oh, that." She put her feet up on an ottoman and yawned. "No need for guilt. I'm sticking you with the dishes."
(To be continued: In a lonely house on the edge of the woods, a man receives a curious delivery.)
-30-