Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

Zwischenzug

by four-eyed 0-0

Part V

"You're not going to impose the patriarchal paradigm on me."

― John Green, Looking for Alaska

o-o

Anti-Patriarchy

Chiaki let the knife fall back on the wooden chopping board, handing the cut vegetables in a bowl to Shizuru who stood in front of the stove. Keiko and Botan finished setting up the table while Yukina was busy tidying up the soiled kitchenware.

There was no sign of the men in this particular part of the household, their voices heard from the seemingly distant "recreational area" (Kuwabara's words, not hers). By recreation, he meant spending the afternoon seated in front of the game console and drinking and wrestling.

Once, they raced each other outside and left dirt in the hallways, much to Shizuru's chagrin.

Chiaki volunteered to clean up after the little kids, determined to keep herself as occupied as possible.

Now, she was helping make dinner with what they were able to find in the pantry that had more empty than stocked shelves—Keiko had grumbled under her breath that in being irresponsible, human and demon males didn't differ a teeny bit.

They would be meeting the higher-ups the day after tomorrow during lunch, she was informed, and Botan hadn't stopped whining about having to do early morning shopping if they wished to be done before sunset.

That it was a welcome distraction, Chiaki didn't say. She was itching to do something to get her rhythm back, and busying with the smallest task was a chance she jumped right at.

Kurama was right; she gave him that much credit. She was thankful for his gesture, something that she never expected from him. He came off as extremely business-like to the point of being unabashedly rude to her personal feelings and motives, but this new side to him that he let her see made her feel better somehow.

He was calm and collected, almost like someone who refused to be attached to himself and to others. Chiaki couldn't place it, but he was too cool for his own good, like he'd put himself on a pedestal not to be awed by all but merely to hinder people from reaching him.

But he offered her help when she needed it. It took her a while to process everything, that the words he'd uttered were matter of fact. She didn't know how long she tried convincing herself that he was right when he'd sounded like a boring teacher who spoke wisdom and truth that you would just have to listen to by virtue of insights gained.

He was so painfully detached.

And Chiaki surmised she could afford to be just as detached in order to face the truth and live with it. That Isamu was dead and would never come back. That she loved him and he loved her but they were not meant to be. That all she needed was a few more tears, a swollen pair of reddened eyes, half a box of cigarettes, and vigorous mopping of a stained floor to be able to say that she could live with the truth and not be hampered by how painful it was. That she had to admit that he was gone. Forever.

That she loved him still and that he finally loved her right.

She would be detached to her loss just as Kurama was to the rest of the world, but she would hold onto the truth that she loved him just as Kurama held onto the merit in his work as an agent to the Reikai.

She would move forward.

"Do you need help?"

The five of them turned to the subject of her musing, his vibrant mane of red and smiling face jutting out of the slightly opened kitchen door.

"LEAVE," was their unanimous answer, the second time that evening.

o-o

Kurama affected a disappointed look, slid the door closed, and turned to Yusuke and Jin who were trying hard not to laugh. After hours of doing nothing productive, they had dared him to torment the already-irked ladies further.

Seeing that he wouldn't be any less of a man by humoring his friends and that it was a perfect avenue to finally leave them alone and help with dinner if he ever were given permission, he accepted.

But he failed again, and now his friends were more than satisfied to hear the women throwing anger his way.

"Man, that was too funny even though I expected it," said Yusuke, slinging an arm about Jin's shoulder and turning away to do something else while they waited for supper.

"Yeh'd think good boy Kurama'd get it righ' this time, huh?" Jin said, nodding his head of unruly red spikes.

Kurama easily tuned them out. He didn't know why he'd chosen to associate with people who didn't take life more seriously than he'd envisioned. He missed the days he made a living with colleagues who took their vocation hook, line, and sinker.

But then Yomi became vindictive and Kuronue met his end.

These reminders made Kurama feel much better about his present comrades with the slightest pang of guilt. What happened was a long time ago and he'd been granted his choice. Now he was left to live with it until he no longer saw his sedentary life a necessity.

Going back to his old ways once he'd exhausted his human life would be no walk in the park, but he could worry about it when he had to.

After about half an hour of ignoring his friends who fooled around a little more, Yukina called them to supper—probably owing to the fact that she was the most tolerant of the females in the household.

He first noticed Aoshi who passed around the long table one of the bowls of vegetable stew that they managed to prepare from the pantry's meagre content. She seemed better than when he left her hours ago, but her eyes could use more time before they could be restored to their normal size.

All the girls crowded on one end of the table while he was forced to sit next to Chu who could barely focus on the bowl in front of him.

"We're going to town tomorrow morning," said Shizuru just after they said their grace. "The pantry's in need of restocking."

"You can take me and Urameshi with you," said Kuwabara without second thought. "And Kurama, too. Forget about the shrimp."

Hiei grunted. "I never had any intention to volunteer, idiot."

"But I don't wanna," Yusuke said, shoving more rice into his mouth. "I'm sleeping in before the monkeys arrive and give me work."

"Master Koenma is no monkey!" said Botan, not failing to catch Yusuke's drift.

Shizuru waved a hand to silence the rowdy table. "Fine. We'll be leaving early, so make sure your lazy asses are up by six. Professor Aoshi and Keiko are coming with us."

Even though Kurama was opposed to the idea of the professor going out and wished to voice this out, he was met with a glare from the subject of his worry.

She'll be fine, was what he thought she was trying to tell him.

Dinner proceeded peacefully after that. Kurama insisted to clean up but Aoshi dragged him to a corner, much to his surprise.

"Hey, I need to speak to you about the clues Isamu gave us. I couldn't understand what he was trying to say and I thought you could help me," she said without preamble, without flinching at the mere mention of Urawa's name.

But he was grateful for her initiative anyway.

"I see. About that, Professor, I've meaning to tell you that I was able to read his lips. He was saying, 'Check. Book. Clues.'"

"Yamamoto's book then?" she said, lacking any form of hesitation as she massaged her temple. This alone confirmed Kurama's initial thought. "I remember he said something about a letter. A letter about Yamamoto and a book."

"And 'I to you'," Kurama said, remembering everything perfectly well. "Do you think he meant a letter he sent to you?"

"I don't know, I never received any letter from anyone of late," the professor said, shaking her head. She started tapping her feet. "Didn't he tell Botan anything?"

He shrugged. "Botan is forbidden—"

"I know that, it was a rhetorical question," she said, snapping at him. When she caught herself frowning, she waved her hands in front of her as if to erase the damage of her outburst. "I mean, I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound bitchy."

"It's all right, Professor. I understand," said Kurama, openly lying. "Anyway, if you'd let me, Botan said Urawa's death was unscheduled."

"Another unprecedented death? Did they find out anything about the records?"

"Koenma's still looking into it. He promised to have a concrete report regarding them when we meet him."

"Well then, we should come up with something to help them with, shouldn't we?" Aoshi said without looking at him. "Could you meet me here in ten minutes? I'll just get Yamamoto's book and my journal."

Kurama nodded, pleased she was able to bounce back from her fall this fast.

Women were not exactly complicated. They were teeming with wonder. Aoshi was.

When they rendezvoused in the quiet kitchen and sat themselves next to each other on the now empty table, the rest of the group had dispersed and gone to attend to their own nightly businesses.

"Weird, I've inspected this book from cover to cover. I don't think I could've missed anything," Aoshi said, turning the book that was opened at a random page every which way as though it would convince him any further that she'd memorized the book in its entirety.

He offered an open palm, and after flitting through the pages of the book, she surrendered and let him take it.

He tried sniffing at it again, much to Aoshi's entertainment. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes and threw caution to the wind, pressing his nostrils to the pages.

Old paper. Ink. Coffee. Agar. Lotion. Lily-of-the-valley.

He put it down. Nothing was different. Perhaps they were looking in the wrong direction.

Aoshi buried her face in her hands in frustration. "Why don't we review?" she asked, her voice muffled as she refused to take her hands off her face.

"He clearly said every piece of evidence he had was taken from him."

She nodded, standing up and pacing. "And that there was a letter about the book that we suppose was addressed to me."

"We are not certain whether it had been delivered successfully or was taken as well."

She paused and crossed her arms, leaning on the counter. "But he said to check the book for clues."

"Perhaps I should read this too," said Kurama belatedly.

Aoshi was scowling at him. "Don't you trust me? If it was intended for anyone else to find, I would've found it already without your help!"

She plopped back down on her seat and snatched the book from his hold, furiously turning the pages. "Damn you, Yamamoto, damn you, Isamu," she said under her breath, seeming to have completely forgotten about her grief, overcome by a sense of urgency that she now felt once more.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Kurama.

"Professor, could you turn to the endpapers?"

She paused and looked at him, her eyebrows knitted. Without saying a word, she turned to the front endpapers and Kurama reached out, gliding his hand along the surface of the pastedown then the loose endpaper.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to feel for anything out of the ordinary." He flipped to the next page and slid his fingers along the paper once more.

Aoshi stared at him, dumbfounded, and copied him, taking over the front pages while he took care from the other end.

Minutes passed and he ran over a depression somewhere along about the eleventh page from the back.

"I felt something," he said, trying not to sound too elated. He ran his fingers over the page again and felt the tiniest change in texture along the row of inked words. The professor let go and let him inspect it for himself.

There was a very small impression on the page, running over the handwritten characters at a completely different angle from the direction of the slightly pressed text. If only he could make it out…

The rubber of a pencil made its way to his line of vision and he looked at the professor.

"Where is it?" she asked, trying to sound unenthusiastic at his discovery.

"Over there," he said, rubbing his finger lightly over the impression. The professor gingerly applied graphite over the general area of the presumptive clue and they leaned in to see.

"Margin."

"Or edge," said Kurama.

"Or border."

They looked at each other. Aoshi burst out giggling, her still swollen eyes reduced to mere slits on her face, not stopping for a while that Kurama had to suppress himself from laughing along even when he felt quite relieved.

The two of them began applying broad pencil strokes over the margins of the pages with renewed vigor and soon enough, their fingers were discolored. Every page bore one or two very faint, almost inconspicuous characters, randomly placed along the margins. When they reached about the tenth page, Aoshi abandoned the "dirty job" in favor of writing down the characters on a page of her journal.

"What the hell are you doing?"

They looked up from their handiwork and found Yusuke with a look on his face that told Kurama they looked nothing like investigators trying to break a code. He looked at Aoshi's face just as she turned to inspect his.

They laughed again.

o-o

Chiaki,

By the time you figure this out I would have already been gone for quite a time. I trusted Urawa would bring this to you just as I asked of him before they found me. I apologize for not telling you anything and I am very sorry for getting you and Urawa in trouble.

When I chose you to be my apprentice, I was convinced that I believed you were better than the two of us. You possessed more goodness and honest love for science than we do. You are intelligent and gifted with the right sort of sense, and I know you would choose the side I didn't. That we didn't.

We have been involved in something very awful, Chiaki. We are already in too deep, and I hope you would have the sensibility not to commit the same mistake. I hope you found people who could help you, and I hope Urawa did his final work as I requested.

This book is a testament to the sin I have committed. Urawa would have the records you need to understand why all this is happening. He would know when you need it and he would give it to you. Even if he dies for it.

I'm sorry.

But you must be warned, Chiaki. This is a serious and life-threatening endeavor, much bigger than what we have gone through together. It requires the right companions to overcome. Many of our ilk have died for it. Died regretting it.

Please do not fall into the abyss as we did, Chiaki. It is a tall order knowing how you must feel much betrayed now but I trust you wouldn't be as thick-headed as we were.

I wish you all the luck in the world, my child.

Yamamoto Koji

She read the letter over again, aware that her tears were welling up from her still encrusted eyes. One traitorous bead dropped on the pencil-encoded characters, and she wiped at her face with her trembling hand.

Kurama and Urameshi were painfully quiet, unmoved from leaning over her shoulder to read the cracked code.

Her chest felt very heavy, as though it still held up despite the previous weight it was forced to carry in so short a time. Now, this confession was too heavy to her liking.

"Professor?"

Panic overriding Kurama's voice alerted her that she was breathing too hard. She shook her head, willing him not to make a big deal out of her emotional stress. She was fine, she had been fine earlier. Any more heartbreak wouldn't kill her.

For these words to come from her mentor… Chiaki was overwhelmed with emotions she couldn't distinguish from one another, all taking the form of slush that sat in her stomach and refused to quit churning.

God, everything was because of that damned eagle. He'd calculated everything carefully and on top of it all, he placed so much trust in the two of them without leaving room for error.

But he couldn't have.

But he did.

He died knowing he would and he died knowing she would be seeking answers. He died knowing Isamu could die and he died with his unwavering trust that this time he'd calculated everything perfectly.

He died trusting that Isamu would fulfill his task and leave her the clues she needed to answer this mystery. He died knowing she wouldn't rest until she solved this problem.

He trusted her.

So quit being a baby.

Chiaki drew a sharp breath, straightening up and standing from her chair. She turned to Kurama and Urameshi, both startled and confused by her actions.

"It all makes sense now," she said, wiping her tears with her graphite-stained fingers. "Isamu was supposed to give me the records but he knew we were on it already. Someone else took the pages that we needed before we can get our hands on them."

"Dammit." Urameshi's fist landed on the table with a thud. "He could've been more forward when he had the chance."

"Oh, yeah, because he would just go with his gut feeling and come up to me and say, 'Hey, Chiaki, I've got something I can help you with'," Chiaki said, appalled by the detective's lack of sense.

Before Urameshi could open his mouth to retaliate, Kurama butted in.

"Please be reasonable, Yusuke. Professor Aoshi is right," he said, waving a hand to silence the detective. "Given that he only realized our intentions the same day we retrieved the evidence, he was left with no choice but to let us be. He never intended to lose the substantial pages that we needed. Someone else must have indeed taken them before we could."

"That can only mean one thing. They knew of Yamamoto's intentions—to send me against them," said Chiaki, turning to Kurama as further realization hit her. "It all ties up. They launched the final leg of the attacks in answer to the threat that we posed. While everyone else was busy, they tried to counter the foremost threat—that I end up finding out everything. And now I'm forced to hide, knowing they could kill me anytime."

"Now we need the names," said Urameshi, much more calmly.

Kurama fished out the compact communicator from his pocket. "I suggest calling Koenma's office."

God, they were the ones who received the zwischenzug.

o-o

"Fine, then, I'll see you," said Koenma before the monitor went black.

Kurama flipped it closed and Aoshi released a breath.

"Guess we'll just have to trust the boss this time, huh?" said Yusuke, getting up from his chair and stretching.

"And the human police," said Kurama. If cases of missing scientists were reported, that is.

"They pulled the zwischenzug on us," said Aoshi, biting her lip with such pressure he could imagine her drawing blood from it. "They pulled it."

Kurama could only bow his head in the irony of the situation as Yusuke tried making sense of the word alien to him.

"I can't believe it," the professor continued, going in circles. "Whoever's behind this is shitting us for real."

Yusuke didn't bother closing his mouth as he looked back and forth between the two of them. When Kurama moved to console the professor from her frustrated rambling, she snapped her fingers and blew away stray locks of hair from her face.

"Call it a night, shall we?" said Aoshi all of a sudden, retrieving Yamamoto's less-presentable book and her journal.

She must be trying not to panic. Kurama couldn't fault her. Their unidentified subjects were able to predict their plan of action and use it against them. Capable was understating their faculties.

He would have to bring it up in the meeting, no matter what the others would have to say to an unjustifiable analysis.

"Wash your faces first, though," said Yusuke, pointing at the two of them. "Or someone would make up some weird tale that you were up to something naughty."

Welcoming the chance distraction, Kurama only laughed while the professor whacked Yusuke's head with the books she held before stomping away. She banged the door closed behind her, leaving it terribly shaking against the frame.

"Geez," said Yusuke, nursing the raw spot. "I was joking."

The professor just snapped, that was why she reacted so violently. Yusuke had adamantly misbehaved the entire day and she was not hearing any more of his quibbles when she was rattled to the core.

"Women," his friend said, grumbling under his breath as he dragged his feet out of the kitchen.

Kurama found himself nodding in agreement.

The next day, he found himself walking with a throng of adults in the town shopping center after three hours of travel and almost an hour of walking to the main road to find a taxi. Keiko, Shizuru, and Aoshi were leading the group between the aisles of the small, rural grocer's while he and Kuwabara tagged along, forced to lug the baskets of goods slowly brimming with commodities the girls had listed down and were throwing their way off the shelves.

The moment he saw the professor dressed and ready to go, he realized that he was still against the idea of Aoshi coming with them to run an errand as simple and—dared he say—"boring" to risk being attacked, but she pulled out the guilt card, saying that being trapped in a temple on top of a mountain with demons who would go berserk simply because they wanted to was too much torture.

"I'll save the days of confinement for when I actually have no choice but to stay put," she had said, glaring him down.

He mentally commended her for being true to her intentions; suffice it to say that they didn't stand a chance against her draconian word.

His worries were extinguished upon arrival at the grocer's, sighting that the morning crowd of shoppers had dwindled to a negligible degree to make easier spotting anyone suspicious about them.

The girls were quick to work, much to his surprise. While he and Kuwabara thought they would spend a significant amount of time debating over brands and quality, he realized shopping for commodities weren't the same as shopping for clothes and cosmetics.

But his mother always took time shopping, whether it be goods or clothes.

"What about black beans?" said Keiko.

"Stick to the list," said Aoshi and Shizuru at the same time that they started laughing in a moment's pause.

That was why.

"Your sister and the professor seem to be getting along," said Kurama quietly.

Kuwabara laughed, scratching at his ear. "I'd like to think that it's a nice change but I'm afraid another Miss Priss isn't healthy for the crew."

"Prudishness is healthy for adults, Kuwabara."

"I know that, but Urameshi and I are natural fools."

Kurama chuckled, utterly amused at such a perfect perception of character. "There's no arguing against that."

"You're a terrible friend."

"You don't mean that."

He smiled. "I don't."

And that was the end of their conversation. Kurama and Kuwabara didn't always have to talk with each other. They were the type of friends who enjoyed small talk when they had something to hold a conversation with, but they were also the type of friends who delighted in companionable silence when light topics had been exhausted.

But Kuwabara was also the type of friend who showed sensibility that Kurama could easily connect with. He enjoyed forging deeper emotional connections with his peers, and Kurama needed such to keep a healthy psych. Yusuke was a pretender, one who required alcohol influence or emotional turmoil to be invested in serious matters—although he became more honest with himself since the first time Kurama met him. Hiei was, well, a constant supply of jibes.

Sometimes, Kurama thought it was Kuwabara's humanity that made him the person that he was. Perceptive—not necessarily to spiritual beings and inside jokes (Yukina and Hiei, for example)—and empathic, he was the one team member who could easily adapt to an atmosphere, read between the lines, and act fittingly.

He was the type of friend Kurama could spend calm, uncharged silences and exchanges with. With Kuwabara there was no need to be on edge and calculative. The psychic was an open book that invited only honesty from whoever spoke to him.

"Kurama," said Shizuru as they came up the registers.

He walked up to her, baskets jiggling with the barely-balanced goods. "Yes?"

She rubbed her thumb against her fingers back and forth swiftly. Kurama let his face fall. He was a thief. He delighted in obtaining, not in giving, wealth.

"I'm pitching," said Aoshi, her face impatient. "Keiko, too. Two thousand apiece."

"And we Kuwabaras," said Shizuru as a final argument, as though it was the fairest deal—dividing a donation between brother and sister.

Kurama didn't argue and handed the amount with closed eyes.

"I didn't know you were stingy," said Aoshi as she let Shizuru and Keiko in front of the line.

He looked at her smirking face. "Old dispositions are hard to resist."

"Your girlfriend must have been very lonely while she was with you," she said, taking one of the baskets for him to load onto the counter.

Kurama raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. "Professor, my girlfriends were never lonely. Would you like to know how I made sure they always felt pleasant?"

Kuwabara started laughing behind him when the professor's eyes widened slightly in shock at his audacity to announce such in a public area.

He had been with many women before—human, demon, or half-demon—and he was never an abysmal lover. But that was almost three decades ago.

The human world had changed him significantly.

Aoshi wrinkled her nose, wrenching the other basket from his hold. "I don't want to hear any of your libertine tales," she said, flicking her wrist at him in dismissal. She turned his back to him for good measure, helping Shizuru and Keiko unload the goods from the basket and onto the counter in a silence only punctured by the bar code reader's soft, "Ding."

By the time they made it out of the grocer's with more paper bags than they could carry that they needed to use the store push cart, they'd figured they would need more than one taxi to head back to the temple.

They were able to squeeze into a taxi on their way to town, with Aoshi and Keiko—being smallest in build—voted to take the passenger seat and he and the Kuwabaras left with the backseat.

"Okay, split up, kids. Kazu, get in the cab with me and Keiko. Chiaki, you go with Kurama."

Before Kurama could react to the fact that the ladies had dropped honorifics completely, Aoshi eyed him and then Shizuru. She shook her head.

"I'm the eldest. No more arguing," said Shizuru before hailing another taxi. "Kurama, ring Yusuke when we arrive. We're quite short-handed."

In the end, Aoshi ended up sullenly taking the passenger seat while the goods that didn't fit the trunk were loaded beside him on the backseat so that he was squeezed into the corner.

He wasn't sure if he'd said something that Shizuru didn't like for him to deserve this blatant torture.

And as if to make things worse, his reluctant companion pretended to fall asleep as soon as they were one mile from the town center, her reflection seen from the side mirror.

"Do you always have to sleep in transport vehicles, Professor?" he asked.

She opened her eye a crack to look at him in the mirror. "It depends."

"Why now, then?"

She looked at the silent driver from her corner of her eyes. "We don't have anything to talk about."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You and Shizuru have conversed endlessly."

"I was trying to get to know her."

"And not me?" said Kurama, feigning hurt. Truth was, he didn't enjoy the charged atmosphere inside the confined vehicle. Her blatant attempts to keep him at arm's length unsettled Kurama in a way he couldn't explain.

It was as if the exchange they had the other day should have been a turning point in their relationship that wasn't quite that of acquaintances but not even anything akin to that of friends.

She scoffed. "She's an interesting person and we have a lot in common."

"We, too, have a lot in common, Professor."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "Such as?"

"We crave for knowledge. We're scientific. We're cunning."

"And these make a perfect ground to befriend you? No, thank you."

Kurama wasn't about to give up in trying to break her shell. "You don't trust me."

"I don't trust men in general."

Kurama felt the proclamation was more loaded than she let slip.

He smirked, trying to affect nonchalance when he was filled with the desire to gain more from this interaction. "That's a shame. Both of your companions right now are men."

"I trust Shizuru to make you pay if you try laying a finger on me," she said without pause, glancing at the driver through the corner of her eyes. "And I can take care of myself."

"I am a fox, Professor. Don't you think you're underestimating me?"

"I'm not. That I'm just as capable is all I'm trying to let you know."

He looked at her in the mirror. She levelled her gaze with his, unshaken from their quiet exchange. It was as though the trembling, frightened woman from the other day was gone, replaced by a masked lady who refused to admit to her weaknesses in the presence of a stranger.

He could have fired back that he had seen her as a quivering mess, but it was a lame, underhanded move. He didn't play games that way. Neither did the professor. At least that was what he gained from their past exchanges.

"Do you not like me, Professor?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to flirt with me, you're doing it wrong."

Kurama snickered. "You're as sharp as ever. How do I win you, then?" he said, not careful to hide the acid lacing his words.

"I thought you knew how to make sure your girlfriends are in constant pleasure."

"You're a different flower, Professor."

Aoshi glared at him. "Don't romanticize me. I am no metaphor."

"Which makes you all the more interesting."

She looked at him like he'd grown two more heads. "Stop it."

"Do I fluster you?" he said, feeling lightheaded from finally getting the upper hand but reeling from her abrupt change of direction.

Aoshi let her hand cover her eyes. "You do, so drop it." She turned away from him and closed her eyes again, this time truly trying to sleep to get him out of her hair.

He momentarily celebrated his small victory, but then he realized: she had just lost Urawa.

Had his words—sarcastic as they were—truly affected her in a way that reminded her of the late scientist?

o-o

"Professor, I'm sorry," said the redhead as soon as they got out of the taxi.

Good for him to own up to his being a big-time ass. "Don't. I understood your intentions."

She did, and he didn't have to apologize that she'd taken it the wrong way. He didn't have to apologize that he was insensitive and she didn't have to be sorry that she was overly affected.

Thanks to him she was reminded of why she refused to trust men. All of them would find one way or another to betray her. Isamu and Yamamoto were no different even though she had loved them truly.

She loved them but she didn't deserve feeling like shit all the freaking time.

That night when she lay on her bed, she resolved she wouldn't let them make her feel like shit ever again.

"But I—"

Chiaki whirled around to stop him from speaking. "You don't have to explain. I understand that you were just trying to lighten up the mood. It's my fault I took it to heart and it's not my place to receive your apologies so stop."

Thankfully, Jin and Urameshi came thundering down the stone steps, effectively cutting off further conversation. The two bouncing men whizzed by back and forth and up and down the stone steps under the hot afternoon sun, eager for the exercise that came with transporting the goods to the temple.

In no time, the two of them had retrieved every paper bag long before Chiaki, Shizuru, and Keiko could reach the top landing with Kurama and Kuwabara coming up behind them silently.

Shizuru didn't waste a second the moment they arrived and dragged her and Keiko to the kitchen. Yukina and Botan welcomed them home, already sorting the supplies.

"Where are the cleaning materials?" asked Shizuru.

Botan held a paper bag with a smile. Shizuru took them and headed out to the backyard. Her voice carried through the open windows when she yelled, "All right, you slimy gits, give me a hand and start tidying up!"

Chiaki laughed. "She's the housemistress, then?"

"The temple can really use some cleaning but yes, she is," said Keiko, laughing along.

Several pairs of feet were heard shuffling toward the back door just as Chiaki proceeded inside the pantry with the fresh trays of eggs. The sound of grumbling and grunting from the kitchen reached the closed pantry as Yukina opened the door to load more vegetables inside.

"Women," said a voice that registered as Suzuki's. "I don't deserve to be reduced to a mere houseboy."

Chiaki stepped out of the pantry and stood akimbo in front of the throng of male demons. "Well, excuse us for trying to take down the patriarchal paradigm, misters."

Suzuki merely shoved his nose in the air and proceeded to the hallway with the mop on his shoulder.

"I suggest coming up with something that would jab at his 'beauty'," said Shishiwakamaru with the slightest hint of malice in the last word. "But nice try, miss."

He winked at her—much to her chagrin—before he and the silent Touya disappeared after the blonde, vain demon.

Chiaki took another tray to load more vegetables onto, trying to control her temper. It would be too bad to damage the premium potatoes she'd selected just because her irksome companions added to her already unpleasant mood.

"Pardon my friends, ma'am. They're a handful for grown men, I know," said Rinku who was left behind to lug the rest of the cleaning substances.

The three-foot child's—demon or not, he was still a child—pitiful state only furthered her irritation that she let go of the potatoes entirely and scooped the basket of the materials and beckoned him to go with her.

"Professor, you don't have to," Rinku said as he jogged behind her.

"Demon or not, you're a youngster and I'm a human against the patriarchy," said Chiaki.

"That's admirable, but I'm older than you are."

"And they're older than you are."

"Shouldn't you respect them then?"

This child was starting to grate on her nerves. "They're perfectly capable men who look down on women and children. That alone doesn't warrant respect."

They reached the foyer where the three disagreeable demons deposited their equipment and Chiaki slammed the basket near Suzuki who stared at her like she was the ugliest woman he'd ever laid his eyes on.

She didn't give a damn and sashayed back to the kitchen, slamming the door behind her for all of the temple to hear.

"I get it that you're extremely opposed to their ways, Chiaki," said Shizuru. "But don't break the door."

"God, what did I do to deserve this?" Chiaki said as she went back to her potatoes.

o-o

Kurama wiped away with his face towel the beads of sweat on his forehead. It was late in the afternoon and he had just finished sheering the last length of bushes about the temple. He could have used his energy to will the plants to submission, but he figured to sit under the scorching summer rays and work manually was a perfect way to unwind and reconnect with nature.

"You can't get any more pathetic than that, fox, can you?" Hiei had said once when he found him crouched in front of a coleus growth before disappearing somewhere again, probably to do Shizuru's bidding.

Kurama wasn't affected at all.

He lifted the bag of litter and placed it next to the dozen others that the rest of the household was able to gather from the general cleaning that the elder Kuwabara had spearheaded. By now the ruckus had somehow died down and the whole temple was restored to its usual calm as the first signs of inevitable arrival of dusk appeared in the horizon.

Kurama stretched his hands above his head, gathering his sheers and rake to keep in the backyard storehouse. He took off his gloves and dusted himself, briefly wondering what the ladies had prepared for supper.

After washing himself with water from the well in fear of being scolded for soiling the once again pristine floors of the temple, he found only one of them in the kitchen, equally haggard as he was with the evening preparations underway.

"Where's everybody?" he asked as he came through the back door.

"Making sure the boys don't break anything," Aoshi said without looking up from her rapid dicing of tomatoes.

"How may I help you?"

"You actually cook?"

"Yes," he said, trying not to sound offended.

"Are you thoroughly clean?" She spun around to indicate the large pot by the sink. "Boil some salted water then help me with the corn."

He did as was told and she handed to him an ear of corn afterwards. They silently cut the kernels off the cobs after discarding the husks and silks, and the professor was quick to retrieve a pan she set on the stove next to the boiling pot.

He watched her work almost fluidly, finding the cooking oil easily as though she had been in this kitchen her whole life. She motioned for him to pass the corn kernels that she then added to the heated oil.

"Salt, pepper," she said. Kurama promptly gave her the ingredients. He stood beside her as she cooked the corn, then adding the minced scallions, ginger, and garlic and some more salt and pepper. She stirred them only once before giving the spatula to him.

She turned away. "Add the tomatoes when the corn's browned and the aromatics soft and fragrant. I'll take care of the noodles."

"Is this mazemen?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, standing next to him to lift the lid of the boiling pot of water. She dropped the noodles inside, stirring to separate the strands, all the while staring at her wrist watch. Kurama could almost laugh at her attempt at precision even in something as mundane as cooking. She turned the stove off as soon as her watch hit ninety seconds.

When she took pot holders to strain the hot noodles in the sink, he held up a hand and volunteered himself for the task. They wordlessly swapped utensils. She then proceeded to season the shrimps ridden of their exoskeletons with salt and pepper before adding them to the sautéing pan. As soon as he set aside the noodles in a big bowl, she asked him to replace her on the stove so she could prepare the sauce.

He turned the stove off and transferred the contents of the pan to the bowl of noodles while the professor finished whisking together the ingredients of the sauce. She then poured the mixture into the bowl with some mizuna. Using a pair of tongs, she mixed the dish well, adding more salt to taste.

"Tidy up, will you? I'll get the paraphernalia."

The two of them worked silently and she transferred the mazemen to separate bowls, garnishing with minimal scallions and shichimi togarashi. Her level of concentration and dedication to prepare food in a high-end style struck Kurama as admirable.

This side to her surprised him again.

When they finished setting up the long table, she was winded.

"I'm going to freshen up a bit before I call everyone for supper," said the professor as she wiped away the sweat from her forehead.

She was cracking her neck as she made her way to the kitchen door. "You'd need it, too. You look like some skunk farted on you," she said before the door fell completely closed.

Kurama decided that she was correct. Some minutes later while he was drying his face in the bathroom, her ringing, steady shout that pierced into the racket that the others were making in the opposite wing reached his ears:

"FILTHY BILGE SERVANTS! DINNER IS SERVED!"

Several pairs of feet echoed, thundering down the hallway and Kurama opened the door to see the throng of hungry workers racing to the kitchen. Shizuru and the other ladies were lagging behind, taking their time.

Aoshi's yelling rang through the temple again.

"CHU! WASH YOUR HANDS FIRST!"

Botan was giggling as they approached him.

"URAMESHI! WAIT FOR THE OTHERS!"

Kurama joined the ladies who were openly laughing at the professor's trouble. When they saw the kitchen scene, Kurama understood why.

The once pristine table was a now mess in one end where the men had flocked to eat their share of the supper. One bowl was already emptied by the person holding the professor by the waist, down on his knees next to the counter.

"You're a capable woman, Miss Aoshi! Accept me as your husband!" Chu was saying with tears in his eyes.

Aoshi was trying to wriggle out of his grasp, scandalized beyond comprehension. "Give me a hand, will you?" she yelled at them.

"It's that good, huh?" said Shizuru, taking a seat next to her brother, as if not hearing any of Aoshi's cries of protest.

"Miss Kuwabara," said Suzuki, pausing with the air of someone who struggled to keep a constant image of elegance. "I don't like Miss Aoshi but this is the best food we've had in a while."

"I didn' know the professah cooks this fine," said Jin, agreeing as he shoved another mouthful of the mazemen into his mouth.

The other men didn't bother reacting and continued eating from their bowls with gusto. Even Hiei, although a bit surreptitiously.

Kurama and the other ladies took their seats and said their grace, trying to rile the professor further. When he had his first taste, he realized they were right. It was indeed exceptionally delicious, as the professor had put so much thought in the recipe and in perfecting it.

When he looked up to find Aoshi who'd given up on trying to break free from Chu's drunken grasp, she threw him a glare before hissing in a voice he'd only heard her use on two occasions: the first time when she first spoke to him in Tenshi to Oni and the other time when he tried to suggest that Urawa would make her go back on her word.

"I am flattered, but please just get him off me."

Kurama didn't take off his eyes from hers as he ate another shrimp, helping himself from smirking as he chewed.

Aoshi rolled her eyes so far to back of her head that he would have never guessed she didn't have anything but scleras.

It took pinching the right pressure point at the back of Chu's neck before she was able to have her share of the meal with much less enthusiasm as everyone else who tasted it.

"Now I know why Urawa thought you'd make a good wife," said Kurama in a whisper as the two of them tidied up after the others.

She whisked water from her wet hands to his face. "Don't say that again. Ever."

"And if I do?" he asked, not bothering to wipe the droplets away.

She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "I'll surprise you."

They stared at each other for a long while before going back to work, not bothering to move the drunk demon from the spot he'd fallen on when they turned off the lights and closed the kitchen door behind them.

A/N: Happy new year, everyone! I don't really have anything to say except for the fact that I have enjoyed writing this chapter so much because finally Kurama is starting to think differently about our dear Chiaki. We also see more of Chiaki's issues.

* mazemen – a Japanese noodle dish without the broth and thus is perfect for summer; the recipe used in this chapter was taken from the site Blue Apron: "Shrimp & Summer Vegetable Mazemen with Fresh Ramen Noodles & Miso-Soy Sauce". I would love to get my hands on this dish when I have the time!

Review response for Kal (Guest): Oh yes, I do remember you from the first chapter! I'm happy you came across this story again. I hope you've had fun reading the installments. Hope to see you here regularly. :)

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and those who added this story to their faves and alerts! You make me so happy.

Kindly leave a review! Next chapter will be meeting the big guys.

See you soon!