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
Final
"When you protect yourself from pain, be sure you do not protect yourself from love."
— Alan Cohen
o-o
Endgame
"Oh, leave her alone, Professor!"
Kurama looked up from the pocket-size novel he was reading under the gray afternoon sky as Atsumi Nao's voice registered, followed by that of the tall man named Sugihara. His arm was currently set upon the shoulders of an incensed Aoshi Chiaki.
She had cut her hair pixie-short, he noticed.
"I still don't get it," said the bald man walking with the three friends some yards away from the row of benches across the IMCB where Kurama sat, waiting. "He comes to fetch you and have coffee with you every single afternoon and you always insist that he's not your boyfriend."
Sugihara had always said that. Kurama couldn't fault him. (He had always heard them even from this distance.)
Aoshi slipped away from his arm and glared at the man, moving to walk beside Atsumi. "I don't see why you must be bothered, sir."
"It bothers me, Chiaki, because you never give me a chance." Sugihara gestured at himself with both hands. "Here is a man boldly asking you out at every opportunity and you choose to go with a man who can't even come up to you and say, 'Hey, Chiaki, I like you. Why don't we go out tonight at some fancy restaurant instead of some shabby café?'"
Numata Erika, Aoshi's other friend, only laughed at Sugihara. "Chiaki is the M type, Professor. She likes to wallow in the agony of waiting for a man too afraid to commit."
"Erika!" said Aoshi, scandalized. She sharply turned to the sole man in their midst. "Professor, why can't you understand that we're completely platonic friends who go out every day to share stories over coffee and bagel?"
Sugihara, Atsumi, and Numata rolled their eyes in perfect synchrony.
Numata caught him watching their exchange. He smiled at her and managed a small nod.
Even when she dropped her voice as she poked Aoshi at the ribs, he read her lips: "Your beautiful beau's here, Chiaki."
Aoshi playfully smacked her friend on the arm before she turned her head to where he was. The professor smiled before whirling a last time to her friends and waving goodbye.
Kurama stood from the bench and slipped the book into his coat's pocket, meeting Aoshi as she jogged towards him, sparing a glance towards the three people she abandoned. Sugihara's face had considerably darkened.
A cloud of breath rose from Aoshi's mouth as she slightly panted. She pulled the scarf farther up her neck as a teeth-shattering January breeze blew past them.
"Sorry I got out late. How long have you been waiting?" she asked, her cheeks red from the cold.
Kurama shook his head. "It's all right, Professor. I arrived only minutes ago. How are you today?"
The two of them started walking to the gate, side by side, but not touching. "A junior managed to contaminate a whole drawer of fungi culture. Yelled at him for a good ten minutes."
Absently, she touched her short, dark hair.
"Too bad you didn't have the chance to pull at your hair while you were at it," said Kurama as they turned left, passing the gate. He moved to walk closer to the traffic as they trudged up the sidewalk.
Snow was not to fall anytime soon, but the breeze blew against them once more and Aoshi hugged tighter to her figure her leather coat. In the many months he spent getting to know her more, he realized that she was incredibly sensitive to the cold. She suffered from the seasonal flu three weeks ago and he and the others played nurse; it had been Botan's idea, including the rather compromising episode of spending more time than necessary in the professor's bedroom while she was fast asleep.
Aoshi had thought she was going to die of bronchitis or lung cancer; she had since dropped smoking, but Kurama wasn't confident she wouldn't relapse when the cold season came to a pass. He was grateful for the change, nonetheless, and had every intention of keeping her from going back to her old ways even if she tortured him for it.
She grit her teeth at the cold before smirking at him with difficulty. "Don't you like it?"
Even now, whenever she asked him of his opinion regarding the smallest of things that she did that could potentially alter her appeal to him, Kurama found himself gulping.
"It isn't repulsive," he said, managing a smirk of his own. In fact, it suited her. The side fringe helped accentuating her dark eyes and cheekbones.
Aoshi rolled her eyes. "It's called the moving-on pixie."
Kurama tilted his head in inquiry.
She turned away. "I realized I've already moved on from Isamu."
The proclamation tugged at his heart. It was a confession more than anything else, the one that he'd been waiting for, he realized.
Aoshi grinned toothily at him. "And it's also the warding-off pixie. For all the men trying to snag me."
The two of them stared at each other for a second before dropping their eyes on the pavement. Her statement was loaded and both of them knew.
Another cold breeze blew past them and he felt the professor inch closer to him, but not quite.
When did he start noticing the distance between the two of them?
She blew at her hands. "Blasted, I forgot my gloves," she murmured after a while.
To Kurama it sounded like an invitation. And he wanted to hold her hand. And rub his thumb at her knuckles, share his bodily warmth.
His hand surreptitiously slipped out of his coat pocket. He could already feel his arm reaching out, closer to her long-fingered right hand—
"Dammit, I'm running. My coffee's waiting," she said, hitching her bag higher up her shoulder. "Let's go, fox boy!"
Without waiting for his response, she bolted up the last block towards the café, bypassing the other pedestrians.
Kurama slipped his left hand back into his pocket and ran after her. Not today.
o-o
"I'll see you, Professor."
Chiaki managed a painful smile. "Yeah, see you."
The two of them hovered by the gate and she shifted her weight on the balls of her feet. He looked away for a moment and Chiaki chanted a prayer inside her head before he raised his hand to pat her on the arm. And then, like every single time they parted ways, he turned on his heels and started his calm, confident stride away from her and her gate.
She stayed watching him walk until he turned the corner, willing him to look back at her. But he never did, and he only disappeared like every other time.
The small flame of hope in her chest was doused in ice-cold water, more freezing than the crisp winter air that condensed the heavy sigh she let escape from her lips. Shoulders low, back hunched, she slipped past the metal gate and started for the apartment complex.
He didn't ask her out. Again.
Chiaki could almost see her reflection rolling her eyes at herself. Why would he ask her out? All those times he'd flirted with her ages ago were only for his amusement. These oft-repeated coffee-dates—no, coffee-hangouts—for six shitty months should have made it clear that they were only friends.
At least for now.
Ugh, Chaki. He's never going to ask you out. Why would he want to ask you out? You're just a human he's going to outlive. Why would he waste a minute of his millennia-long life with someone who's going to get wrinkly and old while he stayed perpetually young? Don't even get me started with the fact that his human body's going to get just as wrinkly. His other form isn't. Not now and not in the next five millennia.
She longingly gazed at the parked motorbike by the maple trees. Times like these she would want to ride it to someplace where she could try to forget, or just ride it at high speeds to feel free. But she knew doing so would only result to a quick trip to Gonersville. She had sworn off riding the bike when she was having a downtime and was ninety-nine percent probable to ride it to death.
These days, riding the bike was only necessary when Kurama couldn't meet her in the afternoon, that is, when he didn't say, "I'll see you, Professor," the previous day. It was almost routinely, their meetings. So routinely that she happily settled, as in routine she was always happy and comfortable.
Tears of frustration cut at the back of her eyes as she kicked off her boots at the genkan. She was at it again. She was being selfish again. Why would she wish him heartache?
God, he loved the man. She didn't know when or how it started, but she just did. She could practically see herself arguing and playing mindboggling games with him for rest of her life. Sappily romantic and convoluted, but it was the truth.
Perhaps it wasn't the same for him. Perhaps he was afraid of putting himself in a vulnerable position. She was only going to cause him heartbreak when she died.
She felt jealous of Keiko; Urameshi was willing to go through a shitty and agonizing heartbreak for her.
But due to it Keiko killed herself with guilt every single day even if she didn't say.
Chiaki sighed. The boot wouldn't come off and she resigned to sitting on the wooden floor to take it off, lacking any amount of energy to toil while standing.
When finally the footwear was off, she was too drained to get up that she laid her back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. God, she wanted a good cry.
"Chiaki!"
The upside-down face of Botan met with hers. Chiaki all but shrieked and impulsively she jumped up, knocking her head on the ferry girl's.
A frantic moment of gathering their bearings and screaming in agony and she was ripping her own throat, yelling at her friend for catching her unawares and helpless.
"Just because you can slip through walls doesn't mean you can just walk in on me without a word!" Chiaki said, nursing her sore forehead.
"Sorry!" said Botan, nursing her own. "And I didn't get in through the walls."
"Huh?"
Several heads poked out of the entryway to her sitting room—Keiko, Shizuru, Yukina, and Shiori's. "Pardon the intrusion!"
"We have spare keys, remember?" said Keiko, smiling.
Chiaki's lips formed a pout. Of course. She must have been really out of it, lamenting her heartbreak, to not notice the extra five presences in her apartment.
"I didn't know we're having a girls' night-in," she said, walking up to her friends with her hunched form. "Good evening, Mrs. Hatanaka," she belatedly said.
"Hello, dear. Did my son ask you out yet?"
Chiaki wrinkled her nose.
"Oh, we're going to do something about that," said Botan, grabbing her arm to sit her on the couch.
o-o
"Miss Aoshi?" said his mother.
Kurama looked up from the book he was perusing, finding his mother standing next to the shelf where the picture frame sat. A finger pointed to the group picture that he and the rest of the team took in the infirmary some months ago, after they put the case of the hybrids to rest. In the portrait, Aoshi was sitting on the bed where the girls had squeezed into, their arms around her.
"Yes, Mother."
"What took you so long to display this?" she asked, plopping gently on the couch next to him.
He wasn't one to put too many pictures of friends in his house as he wasn't exactly sentimental, but Botan had always been adamant that he started giving more value to these mementos. She was seething when they dropped by and she didn't find the new picture in his sitting room. They were friends, after all, she'd said. Aoshi had only laughed her head off, and for some reason hadn't finished until five minutes later.
Sometimes he couldn't fathom her.
Shiori smiled suggestively at him. "When are you going to invite her for dinner?"
"Mother—!"
"No need to be defensive, Shuichi. I know you'll need more time to get to know her."
"Mother, that's not what I mean."
"Oh, I think I know." Shiori's lips drew to a smirk. "You haven't plucked up the courage to ask her out, have you?"
He'd have argued but it was the truth.
He inwardly cringed. He, Youko Kurama, had been unable to ask the woman he liked very much out on a date. Of course there was the occasional bumping into each other or coffee (hers) and tea (his) every afternoon, but never an actual date planned ahead—never a date at some fancy restaurant, as Sugihara had indirectly suggested.
The end of the summer he met her had been a time for recuperation and grieving for the soul. She had been miserable for a long while, secluding herself from the rest of the world. It was a stagnant period, but somehow she managed to crawl her way back into society and the scientific world with little help from him and his friends.
During that time he had every excuse not to wheel in himself back to her life and present his courtship, but after a week of putting off his plans, he was never able to go through with any of it. It was either a new mission or a project in the office came up.
Other times he was just plain scared. Funny how years of eluding romance could make someone as renowned as he run with his tail(s) between his legs. Playing games with the professor had been invariably easy and almost organic, but finally committing himself was an absolute quandary.
Shiori didn't let him answer. "Hard to argue that, isn't it? Really, son, what's holding you back? You're almost twenty-eight."
He'd have more years to live; the professor had at least fifty. "I... I'm just..."
Fifty years of being with the professor. Would that ever suffice? Was he indeed willing to relinquish his immunity to another heartbreak that he'd secured since the last?
He was as every bit of a coward as Hiei thought.
His mother clasped his hands with hers. "Are you afraid to commit?"
He only managed to nod his head.
"Well, is she?"
"As much as I would like to say that I know the answer, unfortunately, I don't, Mother."
Shiori's eyes saddened and she let go of his hands, staring out the window. "She let me in on a secret, son."
"Sorry?"
"I never told you, okay?" she said, raising his eyebrows at him. He slowly nodded his head, suppressing the urge to resist his mother's offer. "She said she's not expecting you to do anything."
Kurama's eyebrows collided, monumentally confused. He had shown his intentions quite clearly before.
Which was six months ago.
"She said you have more years to live and she, well, a relative few. She was telling herself—'Why would he want to tie himself to a human he's going to outlive? He'll only break his heart over something silly.'"
His heart jumped to his throat as his stomach sank further beneath him.
"She said, 'I'd rather be friends with him than hurt him when I die.'"
Did she? She would, Kurama surmised. She was that brilliant to know what he was thinking. Sometimes her accuracy scared Kurama to no end.
He wasn't certain what was more frightening—her awareness or her disappointment.
If only I've been more sensible!
He shouldn't have made his advances, he should have resisted his feelings. What was the best thing to do? Every day the flames became bigger, more arduous to extinguish, fanned by the bellows of her presence. He feared that one day he would have to isolate himself from all that connected him to her, including the professor herself.
Which would only break her heart. Doing otherwise would break his.
But what is the true meaning of unconditional love? Is someone as vile as he willing to succumb to something as foreign a concept?
He looked at his mother whom he loved so much. He thought of his friends—demon or human. They were all going their separate ways when their time finally came and he would suffer all the same. So why must he be afraid of tethering himself to a relationship doomed from the beginning when he had done so times aplenty?
What was he so afraid of?
He and his mother slightly jumped as his keitai went off. He excused himself to answer the call, standing by the window. His heart leapt back to his throat upon seeing the caller ID.
"Professor," he said, trying not to sound anxious when his pulse almost deafened him.
"Hi, Kurama!" she said, cheerily. "I know it's unexpected but I just called to say I'm flying out tonight."
Panic rode on his voice to his utter surprise as he spoke the first things in his mind. "Flying out? To where?"
"Germany. I've been given a scholarship for postdoctoral studies at Heidelberg. Isn't that cool?"
It was not "cool"! "This is too sudden, Professor."
Kurama immediately regretted the tone of pessimism that escaped his notice.
"Can't argue that," she interjected, her cheery vibe dropping. "I sent my application a month ago. They called yesterday to tell me that I need to attend the interview and take German lessons. I'm flying out in advance to prepare some other things."
"And you're only telling me now?" Kurama shut his eyes tightly as a vein started throbbing on his temple. This was too sudden to be happening.
Much to his surprise, she laughed. "Sorry, I was busy making preparations! And don't talk like that, Kurama. You sound like it's the end of the world. I'll be back sooner than you think, don't worry."
He released a heavy, lung-shattering sigh as he pinched at his nose bridge, trying to contain the aggravation in his voice. "And how soon is soon, Professor?" he said, calmly this time.
"A year or two, depends if they would still want me to work with them after I finish my courses."
Two years?! Kurama wanted to punch something. Something in him sparked to life, and his resolve only grew as he realized how painful the throbbing in his chest had become in so short a time.
"Where are you, Professor?"
"Pardon?"
"Where are you now, as in, right now?"
"Is there a problem? What's wrong, Kurama?"
He clenched his fist out of frustration. "Just please answer the question."
"You're acting weird. I'm on the way to the airport."
"What time is your flight?"
"Why do you ask? You're not going to see me, are you?" she teased.
He only stomped his way to the coat hanger, raising a hand to signal to his mother that he was going out. "Believe it or not, I am."
"Kurama, I know you're going to miss me but—"
"Aoshi Chiaki, answer the question or you're never going to get out of the country in one piece," said Kurama as he banged the door closed after slipping into his coat rather sloppily, already running towards the stairs.
"Whoa, okay, okay! You're scaring me! Twelve-forty-five. Boarding at twelve-fifteen."
Kurama checked his watch as he started his descent. It was nine-twenty. Something simultaneously died and came alive inside of him. It took at least an hour to reach Narita from this district by taxi.
"Professor, listen. I need to tell you something important. Wait for me, do you understand?"
"But you can tell me—"
"No, you're going to wait for me."
"Uh… okay, I guess." He could practically see her rolling her eyes.
Kurama hung up and vaulted the last flight of stairs before breaking into a sprint towards the gate. Of all the days he could tell her, of all the days he could have mustered the courage to finally profess to her his true feelings, it had to be today.
He had been extremely idiotic to put off telling her when he had every chance to. Now presented with the idea of her prolonged absence, he realized he could no longer hold it in.
What a tasteless cliché this was. It was almost too scripted to be true.
The moment he burst out of the gates a taxi was pulling up from one block ahead. Grateful for a quick response to his prayer courtesy of Inari, he ran towards it and hailed, waving his arm frantically.
The vehicle stopped and he opened the door, slipping inside before his nose picked up the familiar scent of lily-of-the-valley. When he turned his face to look at the opposite corner of the dimly-lit backseat, his eyes met Aoshi Chiaki's.
"You said you need to tell me something?"
Out of breath, he couldn't contain his shock. "Professor?"
o-o
"But you said you were—"
She couldn't help it anymore. Five minutes of pretend nonchalance was enough for her to burst into a hysterical fit of giggles, doubling over as she laughed her heart out.
She caught him staring at her, dumbfounded.
Wiping away the tears from her eyes, she sniffed the last of her laughter. "Sorry, Kurama. I was lying. My flight's actually two months from today. And it's not for a postdoctoral but for a conference."
Kurama's expression didn't change. It must have been too sick a joke for him.
Chiaki actually started to worry for the lady-man. "Hey," she said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you okay?"
It took a moment before he snapped out of his trance. The next things that happened were too abrupt to allow any time to react.
With the strength of this man she only witnessed when he killed, he pulled her to his lap and tilted her face towards him before diving in to lock her agape mouth with his.
Chiaki's breath caught in her throat and her heart flew out of her chest—eyes wide, utterly surprised at this rough display of affection from the man she thought would never afford losing his nerve in any form, in front of anyone.
But her hand nestled to his chest while the other slipped to his neck as she closed her eyes and responded to the kiss. A new kind of happiness enveloped all of her, tingled at her fingertips, as he pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers harder than before.
She was rightfully aware that someone else was in the taxi with them and that the kiss had steadily progressed to a level more than merely passionate, but for the life of her, she couldn't care about anything else but the feel of this man's strong chest against hers, his lean arms around her, and his mouth upon hers.
At that time, the only thought that registered in her fogged mind was that she, Aoshi Chiaki, was irrevocably in love with Youko Kurama.
o-o
He'd kissed many women before but all those women would never sum up to what Aoshi Chiaki felt like in his arms and on his lips. To him there was no concrete concept of what heaven was, but it must be something like kissing the professor.
He couldn't even begin to piece together what he was currently feeling. He was shocked and offended and angered and relieved… and plainly happy.
She would always find ways to outsmart him, to manipulate him, and while he felt like responding in kind and playing her just as she did him, in this moment he had only come up with kissing her out of her senses. Without thinking it through, without calculating.
He was finally willing to admit it to her.
He… loved her.
Her lips melded with his and her hands played with his hair. He nibbled at her lip and she breathed into his mouth, tilting her face to press harder, deeper.
A shiver went down his spine as she tugged at his hair when he bit at her lower lip.
Out of oxygen, they pulled away. He placed his hands on her cheeks, gazing open-mouthedly at her reddened face, into her drunken, dreamy, dark orbs, and at her puckered, swollen lips.
"Chiaki, I—" he began, catching his breath, surprised to speak her given name. He looked her in the eyes, and this time she really looked at his, anticipating and aware of him.
"I love you, Chiaki."
Slowly, as though a flower blossoming in the first week of spring, her eyes lit up and her lips curled to the brightest smile he'd seen from her. Then they glazed over with tears, and the panic came back full-force.
She threw her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Are you sure you're willing to go through all the trouble?"
He managed a small laugh. She knew him too well. He wrapped his arms around her.
"Yes, Chiaki."
"But I'm going to die sooner than you'd like."
"I know, Chiaki," he said. This time, the prospect didn't seem too dim.
"I'm going to get old and wrinkly and your other sexier form won't like that."
"I know, Chiaki," he said, smiling. He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue, and his ears perked up at the compliment thrown his way.
"And I'm flying—"
He gently pushed her away and grabbed her chin to make her look at him, wiping away the tears from her face.
"I know, Chiaki. I'm going to wait, so please stop worrying."
After a moment, she sniffed and smiled at him.
"I love you, Kurama," she said.
"I love you, too, Chiaki." This time it felt more genuine, more organic. Like a chant he could repeat over and over. "I love you," he tried again.
A voice, this time from someone he completely forgot about, interrupted. "Are you through yet?"
The two of them turned to the driver whose face was every shade of green.
"Suzuki?" said Kurama. Chiaki started laughing. He turned to her, his inquiry hanging in the air.
"He lost a bet to the guys so he had to assume this role," she said by way of explanation.
Kurama's face fell. "Wait, do you mean to say that everyone knew?"
"Yeah," Suzuki spat out. "And I had the misfortune of witnessing something utterly disgusting!"
Chiaki winked at Kurama before turning to Suzuki. "You're just jealous."
Suzuki's eyes bugged out. "I am not, Your Grace. In fact, I am so done so you better get the hell out of here before I decide to kill both of you!"
Kurama and Chiaki looked at each other before scrambling out of the vehicle. As soon as they closed the door, Suzuki drove past at a speed that was well over the limit, the tires screeching upon the asphalt. Kurama wished he wouldn't run to some trouble.
Chiaki's hand took his and he laced his fingers through hers. "Where to?"
Kurama wriggled his eyebrows at her. "My apartment currently houses a lady who's certain to ask about the nitty-gritty."
"Ooh, what daunting prospect!" she said, laughing. "Fortunately, I know of one that is most available. Its hostess cooks the best mazemen in town."
"How convenient." They started walking, hand in hand. "I am personally acquainted with the best brewer of tea in all of Japan."
"You are?"
"Yes. He tells me he gives that hostess you speak of the best kisses she has the fortune to experience."
Chiaki snorted and pulled his face down to hers to plant a quick, forceful kiss upon his lips. Smirking, she asked, "And what else says he?"
"The hostess gives the best kisses in all of the three realms."
Her nostrils flared just as he chuckled. Her smile reached her eyes. They continued walking to the train station.
Kurama was convinced it was the best first date ever—mundane, simple, ordinary. A break from the supernatural and the mystical.
They played a chess game after their sumptuous meal. It was never finished for reasons he'd rather not divulge.
A/N: Is it finished? Yes, it is finished. This is all freaking surreal. Am I in tears? Oh yes, I am in tears!
THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO STAYED READING THIS FIC NO MATTER HOW CONVOLUTED, AGONIZING AND FRUSTRATING IT GOT. You have always made me want to see it through. You have made me happy to a degree that is beyond my vocabulary. So thank you for sticking with Chiaki and Kurama. (And Isamu.) It has been a happy ride.
One last request, dear readers. Could you please write me a review? Tell me whatever you wish: you don't like it, you like it, it's finished too soon, it left you hanging, whatever. Just please tell me how the story has been and how it turned out for you.
Again, I am thankful to everyone who added this story to their lists and to those who reviewed last chapter.
Zwischenzug is going to have a sequel. Perhaps after I graduate in June. We can't really tell for now. I love you all.
Sincerely,
four-eyed0-0