Story Title: In the Eyes of Angels

Disclaimer: Still don't own Yu Yu Hakusho.

Author's Notes: The first section might be rough for those who have lost pets recently. I lost both my dogs to old age within a span of two years of each other, and it's been rough not having my boys. Writing this first section took the longest for multiple reasons. Still this whole chapter is only 7k-ish but it feels so much longer.

There's a scene later on involving Kurama that ended up getting a large overhaul. It started out as more of a prank that turned into something much more interesting. I suppose I should warn folks for...blasphemous language? But if you've read any of Hiei's views on religion thus far and haven't stopped reading, then Kurama's shouldn't be too much of an issue.

Special thanks to mircheto and haikuowl, and to all those who faved and followed since the last chapter.

All the thanks to Sami_Delirium for beta-reading over this chapter. As always, thanks for reading.

-o-

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Mourning After

-o-

Kurama Minamino walked alongside Hiei into the woods surrounding the Academy. It was early in the morning, and Kurama was missing Sunday Mass. His absence would be noticed and commented upon later on; however, he could deal with any nosy inquiries into his whereabouts. A funeral service needed to be provided, and there was no better time to do it than when most of the school and faculty attended Mass.

The day began bright and sunny. The sky was not yet blue but it was still swathed in the morning gray mist. The air was crisp and cool. It was a nice fall day in early October. Too nice. Kurama was not positive as to whether he and Hiei preferred this or a more somber, drizzly morning to accurately reflect the mood. Their hearts had to paint the melancholic atmosphere the weather did not provide.

Leaves crunched underfoot as more fell around them. Kurama carried a shovel he had borrowed from the groundskeepers' supply shed. Hiei carried Minamino's remains in a knit cap. He looked as if he had not slept and more than likely hadn't. Kurama didn't have the most restful night's sleep either. Trying to talk himself out of a decision he already knew was the best course of action was nearly impossible, but he was reluctant to make all his time and effort for naught. And yet, logic asked him what he had realistically expected to achieve in the first place. Kurama did not know.

Out of the view of the Academy, they found a spot underneath an oak tree. Acorns fell, hitting branches and plunking on the ground around them. Wildflowers coated the area in the spring. It seemed like a nice place to lay a mouse to sleep. Kurama dug her grave while Hiei observed. Truth be told, he probably wasn't paying much attention.

Hole dug, Kurama leaned the shovel against the oak tree and slipped off his backpack. He removed a half-empty box of strawberry thumbprint cookies. They had been her favorite. Hiei placed Minamino and the knit cap inside and laid the box in the hole.

Kurama grabbed hold of the shovel handle once more. "Would you like to say anything?"

Hiei shook his head.

"Would you like something said?"

There was a long pause before Hiei nodded his head yes.

Kurama paused to collect his thoughts. Any sort of religious eulogy was out of the question—Hiei would not want one, and Kurama could not deliver one with sincerity. Still Hiei wanted something said. However, Kurama had not known Minamino well, had only had speckled moments with her here and there. He tried his best, speaking of her intelligence, her loyalty, and her uncanny ability to bring out the best in others. He hoped the speculative aspects of his speech still rang true.

Silence rolled in quickly after Kurama finished his eulogy. Hiei scooped up a pile of dirt with both hands and laid it on top of the cookie box. He let his hands linger and then stepped back. Kurama finished the burial.

Hiei had walked off a ways and leaned sideways against one of the few gingko trees in the forest. A gingko leaf had fallen into his hair. Kurama dared not disturb him. Respect for the dead meant respect for the living left behind as well.

At a respectable but locatable distance away, Kurama sought out a spot to bury what some might call his madness. He called it his life's work. He dug another hole, surrounded it with stones, and started a small fire. He removed all of his notes and journals from his backpack. He tore off page after page, burning years of hypothesis and experimentation to an ultimately fruitless endeavor. He was careful to leave nothing but char and ash. Eyes might already be watching from afar, but the scavengers were not going to find anything useful.

Kurama watched each crumpled page curl and blacken. So much time, so much of his life wasted, though he didn't know how else he would have spent his free time at the Academy. Socializing with his classmates? He doubted that. If not this, then it would surely have been another project. Something more attainable and grounded in reality, not science fiction. A discovery that would have made him famous outside of the Academy and on the cover of every science magazine. Kurama couldn't think of anything he wanted less.

Even if he was on the verge of a breakthrough, he didn't want to succeed. Enma Daioh should never have the power to decide who lived again and who remained dead. He didn't want his discoveries to be used solely by the rich while the rest of the world was forced to live with their grief. That was not the goal of his research. But it would become just that, now that Enma Daioh's interest was piqued.

I will not make the world worse than it already is.

Hiei joined him partway through. He sat across from him at an angle. The partially green-yellow gingko leaf was still in his hair. They watched the fire in silence. Kurama shared Hiei's desire for no conversation, but having him there with him eased the bitter pain of losing what mattered to him.

There were hardly any embers, just edges of ashen paper burning red. Kurama smothered the fire out with the dirt and refilled the hole. Slowly, they headed back to the main campus. Mass was ending soon.

-o-

Hiei wanted to be alone for a while. Kurama wanted to be alone too but wouldn't say it. Oftentimes he did exactly the opposite of what he wanted. Hiei saw him across the library or heard him an aisle or two down talking with his classmates. Hiei supposed he could bail Kurama out, however that would be contrary to his own desire for solitude. It wasn't that he didn't want to be around him, but sometimes a person needed time to themselves to think. Or not think. Hiei was tired of his thoughts, all of them.

He hid in the theater room. It was dark, cool, and had comfortable seating. He didn't have the energy to be sociable today. He didn't have the energy to run. He was so tired his body couldn't even figure out how to fall asleep right. He kept nodding off, and his body kept jerking him awake.

Last night had not been kind to him. He had gone to bed holding Minamino inside her knit cap. Foolishly, he had reached inside to pet her, but her body was stiff and cold and not Minamino. Visions of blood splattering and hands reaching for his neck that were either Iwamoto's or the man's taunted him throughout the night. He wasn't positive he had been dreaming or hallucinating—he felt like he had never slipped past the in-between state.

Was getting older even worth it? If he graduated from the Academy, what then? College? Only if they gave out pity scholarships. All he was good for was donating his brain and body to science, and he still needed both, broken as they were. He used to tell himself that he was raging against his past, trying to find success despite his trauma. Maybe he was lying to himself. Things hadn't exactly improved for him since coming to the Academy. He had tried leaving the man's basement behind, but it was with him in his memories until death and who knew what came after.

Hiei was tired.

Nothing ever changed. Still couldn't sleep. Still stuck in the Box. What was even waiting for him? More of the same.

Hiei dreamed.

The world was milk-white. Hiei woke up and raised his head off a pillow that wasn't his. He was in an unfamiliar bed sized for royalty. Fine sky blue sheets, puffy white comforter coating the bed like a layer of snow, pillows spilling out onto the floor and yet the number of pillows never seemed to change. He sat up and let his eyes adjust to the brightness. There was a bubble barrier around the bed, no, around the house. Hiei was not sure how he knew that, but he was sure there was a small house around this open ceiling bedroom. Beyond the bubble, he was surrounded by snowy hills and dark green pine trees. He felt like he was inside some bizarre reverse snow globe.

Hiei stared at the bubble barrier's iridescent sheen in the soft sunlight. Falling snowflakes hit the barrier and turned into delicate white feathers. He raised his hand to catch one, but the feather faded into nothing before it reached his hand.

"You're awake," Kurama said, appearing from another room that may or may not have existed. He wore white pajamas, the same as his, Hiei realized. Kurama turned down the covers and joined him. Kurama moved closer to him. Hiei scooted away. He stopped when his hand reached the edge.

"Where are we?" Hiei asked, heart racing, confused. There was nothing to fear here, however sitting in a bed under the covers with a soft and inviting Kurama Minamino was sure to cause a negative reaction.

"A place to call our own," Kurama replied, reaching over and taking Hiei's hand.

Hiei yanked his hand away. He had a cutting response on the tip of his tongue until he noticed there was no burning sensation, no hives. Kurama's touch had been light and brief but still… Hiei reached over and laid his hand over Kurama's. He watched and waited. Ten seconds, fifteen seconds, twenty seconds. No reaction. None at all. He looked up in disbelief at Kurama, who merely waited with a patient gaze and gentle smile.

Hiei crawled toward Kurama with the urgency of a dying man toward fresh water. He curled up against him, rested his head on Kurama's chest, and wrapped an arm around him. Kurama's chest fluttered with amused laughter. He could tease him all he wanted. He had no idea how long Hiei had waited, how long he'd been afraid to touch him.

Hiei lay still, soaking up his warmth, taking in his scent, and feeling the rise and fall of his breath. He doubted this was real, knew it couldn't be, but he was going to savor it all the same. His feelings were overwhelming but in a good way. Like being wrapped up in morning sunlight or eating his way out of a giant cake. Hiei quickly realized he didn't have many references regarding overwhelming happiness to compare this to.

Overcome with feeling, Hiei closed his eyes. There was a roil of emotion inside him he had never felt before, and it felt good. Clenching Kurama's nightshirt, he ordered himself to steady his own breath before he found himself hyperventilating. Kurama idly stroked Hiei's hair. Occasionally, his fingers wandered to Hiei's cheek and neck. Light, soothing touch.

"I don't want to leave," Hiei said softly.

A flurry of sparkling snowflakes turned into a downy waft of shimmering feathers. The world was quiet, isolated, and truly their own. He didn't care if he was trapped in some lotus-eater machine. He was never going to know this feeling out in the real world.

A thought dawned on Hiei. He stirred and sat up in bed. Could he? Nervous to ask and even more nervous to act, Hiei stared at Kurama. Perhaps he was asking for too much, too soon… He wanted to know, curious beyond reason, what a kiss felt like and why people did it, and where else could they kiss without Hiei reacting badly? The books made it out to be so easy and important.

Kurama waited, expectantly. Not wanting to pass up his one opportunity, Hiei leaned in, with Kurama following his lead. All he heard was his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He tried not to think about how dry and cracked his lips were. Kurama's lips definitely weren't. Kurama's lips were anything but dry and cracked.

They should be kissing by now, but they weren't. Their faces seemed to be a few inches apart, and no matter how close Hiei came, the distance remained the same. Hiei was confused. He made a desperate lunge toward Kurama, only to feel himself sink into the bed, taking the sheets with him and slipping into nothingness.

"No!" Hiei shouted, jolting awake. He was sitting in his seat in the school theater room. A class was watching a movie in French. They all turned around and looked at him with varying degrees of shock and annoyance. Hiei bolted out of the theater and left the library. He had too much nervous energy to wander the aisles. He wanted to run. He wanted to stomp, scream, and curse.

He was shocked at how cruel his own mind was. His first good dream in forever and it was a vision of happiness with Kurama? Hiei knew when things were never going to happen, no matter how hard he wished otherwise. Life never turned out that way for him. To believe that one day he and Kurama would be boyfriends enjoying a chilly winter morning cuddled up in bed together was asinine. He was lying to himself. He knew the pain of the man's torture, reliving those days nearly every night, but to offer him a taste of love and happiness knowing it was out of reach in the real world was cruel beyond measure.

It was raining outside, a decent shower. It made no difference whether he ran or walked, he was going to get soaked regardless. He had no idea what time it was—the storm clouds made it difficult to judge. Knowing himself, he probably hadn't nodded off for long, so it was probably sometime in the afternoon.

Hiei's shoes squeaked as he entered the side entrance stairwell. He hated the sound. His steps on the metal staircase were a little more bearable.

He found Kurama on the second floor sitting on the floor with his legs drawn in close. He watched the rain spatter and streak down the giant glass panels. Hiei couldn't read the expression on Kurama's face. Maybe he didn't want someone cold and dripping wet sitting next to him, but Kurama didn't acknowledge his presence, even though he was able to see him.

This stairwell didn't go unused by the other students. Hiei wondered what his classmates thought of him on the floor nearly in the corner staring into nothing. Probably thought the genius was trying out some different perspective bullshit to solving a problem, a problem they assumed was no more complex than their homework.

Hiei sat down on the floor beside Kurama. He could stay at least until it was clear Kurama wanted to be alone. Waiting until he was ready to talk was something Kurama had done for him plenty of times. Returning the favor was the least Hiei could do. Despite the dreary weather and dark storm clouds, it wasn't so bad listening to the rain.

"I'm not as smart as everyone thinks I am," Kurama said, his voice loud enough for Hiei to hear but low enough to not by heard by the rest of the people on the stairwell. Hiei scoffed at the ridiculousness. "I know, you believe that too. But I'm not."

Kurama looked away from the glass windows to the floor. "All my life, I believed that if I was perfect, then nothing could ever go wrong. If I was good, then my life would be good in turn. It's all lies, of course. What we do does not matter. I could be a living saint and still be killed tomorrow. There's no rhyme or reason in life. There's no plan. We're a planet of lost souls looking for purpose and answers from a higher being that either doesn't exist or doesn't care."

Hiei certainly didn't disagree. A small spark of joy flickered in his chest to hear Kurama say such words. They rang more true to his ears than the false devotion he showed the Academy.

"I spent years searching for answers and received nothing in response. What has it amounted to? The languishing of a scared boy clutching his mother's arms to keep her close. I claimed my work was for the good of others, to allow them to avoid my pain, but really, all I wanted to do was foolishly bring back a cremated man."

Hiei sympathized. Though he didn't have any loved ones to cling to, he had many a time been a scared boy wishing for a kind mother's arms to hold him. It was why he'd been such easy prey for the woman.

Hiei knew what he should do. He just couldn't do it. He was afraid to touch him, knowing what might, no, what would happen. This was not the dream world where he could comfort Kurama without fear of swift consequences. He could offer some hollow words of condolence—the feeling would be sincere, but Hiei had no concept of parental love to truly empathize with Kurama's loss. No, what was required now was a more intimate expression. The bare minimum was holding his hand. Maybe he could do that. In five minutes, give or take.

"I admire you, I really do. You say exactly what is on your mind. You're honest, brutally so at times." Kurama smiled as he talked, but that smile quickly faded. "I just cannot afford to behave that way. It would break the illusion of the kind, helpful Kurama Minamino I've built if I ever spoke unkindly to others."

"At times, I'm jealous of your freedom. I've worn this mask for so long I'm not positive who I am without it. Sometimes I wonder if parts of myself are real or if they're a part of the act. Even though I know that being perfect will accomplish nothing, I cannot help but maintain the facade. After all, what if it is keeping me safe?" Kurama looked at Hiei and smiled again, humorlessly this time. "Idiotic, isn't it?"

Hiei wanted to answer no, but he believed the question was rhetorical in nature. Kurama Minamino was not an idiot. Doing whatever one needed to do to survive mind-shattering trauma and keep going afterwards was not stupid.

Still, one line of Kurama's confession stuck out to him. "Are we another act?" Hiei asked and then clarified, "Our friendship."

Kurama looked up. He seemed taken aback. His expression was soft and tinged with hurt. "Our friendship is the one of the few parts of me I know is genuine."

Uncomfortable with such open sincerity, Hiei looked away, then back at Kurama, and then away again. He almost felt like he should apologize for doubting him. He had a good reason to question him—Kurama had just admitted that even he didn't know how much of his personality was real and how much was a performance.

Hiei wanted nothing more than to believe he finally had a lasting connection in this world, but even their time together was finite. After they graduated and Kurama entered college, Hiei wasn't going to be at Kurama's college. Even if he could pass admissions, Hiei couldn't afford tuition. Eventually, Kurama would grow busy and more famous whether he wanted to be or not, and more and more opportunities and doors would open for him. And where would Hiei be? The only door he had known had shut and locked him in the man's basement years ago.

Hiei had no idea of his future post-Academy, but he didn't want to be a burden to Kurama. He didn't want to be the broken toy from his childhood Kurama kept on the shelf out of nostalgia and pity. But Hiei didn't want to be thrown away either. The prospect of getting older and still not sleeping, still reliving the horrors, still fucked up and alone, terrified Hiei.

"Y'know, if you're wrong, you're going to Hell," he said and Kurama laughed wholeheartedly. It didn't sound like Kurama disagreed with him. "Come find me," Hiei added, managing a tiny smirk.

Kurama kept his legs drawn in and leaned forward to rest his head on his knees. "Nice to know I won't be alone."

Hiei hated the mirthful crescent shape of his eyes. He hated the gentleness throughout his face, especially in his smile. He hated the way his hair hung like a red satin curtain down his legs. He hated how pretty he was, and how he made him feel, and that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

More than five minutes had come and gone, but Hiei's arms remained wrapped around his body. Now might have been a good time to reach out and touch Kurama. Just a small gesture of familiar affection, like scooting closer and leaning against him. Just proof that he was his friend and he wanted nothing more than to be at his side.

"How is your wound?" Kurama asked.

"Fine."

"Do you mind if I check it?" Kurama said, sitting up. "I'm positive the bandages need changing."

Hiei didn't want to, but if it got Kurama off the floor and him somewhere other than here, then he supposed he would allow it.

-o-

Kurama Minamino knew emotions were complex, irrational things. As much as they were simple and obvious, emotions were also nuanced and subtle. He had spent most of his young life refining his control over his emotions so that he always presented the perfect response in any situation. Of course, he wasn't always perfect. Even he faltered and became overwhelmed. During those times, he often retreated both inwardly and to quiet places, letting no one see him until he reformed his mask.

Hiei was an exception.

Kurama allowed Hiei to see him in those moments where the glue had yet to dry. In a sense, letting Hiei see him that way let Kurama process feelings he typically buried far too quickly. He usually felt better after talking with Hiei, though he supposed he had done most of the talking.

While Hiei waited in the boys' restroom, Kurama went back to his dorm room to pick up his first aid kit. To no surprise, Kaitou was there. Kurama started to believe he had imagined Kaitou having friends. Kaitou paused his studying, eying him as an old hound watches an intruding fox from behind a locked screen door—vexed by his presence but aware enough to know that he cannot reach him.

"Break another heart, Minamino?" Kaitou asked wryly, as Kurama grabbed the first aid kit and closed the desk drawer.

Kurama flashed a smile. "Cooking lesson gone awry."

Kaitou uttered a dull murmur, his tone refusing to indicate whether or not he believed him. Nonetheless, Kurama left, and Kaitou went back to his studies.

They were fortunate no one was using the restrooms at this time. As Kurama washed his hands, he asked Hiei to remove his shirt. Hiei did what was asked of him, though he still expressed the same level of annoyance and reluctance as he would if Kurama had asked him to bite into a whole pineapple. Keeping his arms inside the sleeves, Hiei let his shirt fall off his shoulders.

Hiei was bound to be cold in those damp clothes. Kurama asked if he wanted to go change first—after all, being in warm sweats would make an uncomfortable process a tad more comfortable—but Hiei refused. He wanted to get this whole nonsense over with. As Kurama reached for the edge of the medical tape securing the bandages, he noticed a wet sheen across Hiei's shoulder. Kurama swept his hand across the beads of water. Hiei wrenched away.

"Don't!" he snapped, glaring over his shoulder. "Just the bandages."

Kurama apologized and took hold of a tape end already loosening from Hiei's skin.

Hiei's skin was indeed chill. Kurama didn't know how he kept himself from shivering. He didn't understand how Hiei could tolerate the clinging and clamminess of his wet clothes, but Kurama's gentle touch was rejected.

Kurama selfishly wished for more physical closeness. He often watched Kuwabara and Yusuke clap the other on the back or wrap an arm around the other's shoulders and wished that he and Hiei occasionally expressed similar rapport in their own manner. It did not need to be anything grand, just a friendly touch now and again when they sat by one another. He had wanted a small gesture of comfort during his confession, but that was asking too much of Hiei. Still, the desire remained.

"What are you waiting for?" Hiei growled.

Kurama snapped to attention. "Sorry," he said.

He carefully removed the tape securing the gauze and padding over Hiei's wounds. They were still in the early stages of healing, but his wounds looked considerably improved from yesterday.

As Kurama cleaned the wound with soap and warm water, a thought consumed his mind as a drop of ink stained every layer of fiber in a sheet of parchment. What if he ran his fingertips into the fine hairs on the back of his neck? Or swept his hand along his neck and down the curve of his shoulder? He knew the answer, of course—rejection and rage.

Bracing himself, Hiei held onto the sink, his arm muscles tense and shaking.

Still he was curious to know, but Kurama knew better than to act on these thoughts. He wanted to step beyond their established boundaries and grow closer, but Kurama was not sure how or what that entailed exactly. He was certain, however, that when Hiei smiled, spring was in bloom and Kurama stood in a field of flowers as wild and beautiful as him. Kurama wanted nothing more than to keep his garden in bloom and stave off Hiei's winters.

When it was all done, and he had secured the last of the new bandages, Kurama stepped back. Hiei pulled his shirt back over his shoulders and murmured something about changing his clothes. Hiei left quickly after, giving Kurama no time to inquire about his evening plans. Kurama suspected he knew them already. He wondered if Hiei wanted Kurama to sit with him as he had done for him.

-o-

Even after three days of debating with himself, Hiei was still not committed to going through with this. He didn't have much faith that it would do anything, but he supposed even the smallest self-improvement was better than nothing at all. It could also fuck him up even more, though Hiei couldn't imagine what that could look like. And didn't want to imagine.

He was approaching the animal storage rooms. Trying not to look as he walked by, Hiei found himself looking at one of the doors before the thought finished forming in his head. He stopped. He had walked this same path over and over, collecting his friend and bringing her back until he had decided to just keep her. If there had been rules, he hadn't followed them. One day, he had simply taken one of the mice as his own. No one had said anything to him about it, and Minamino the boy would certainly have told him he needed permission—not that Hiei would have given a damn. He could just as easily walk in and take another mouse. Minamino II.

The thought repulsed Hiei. No matter how long his grief ate away at him, this emptiness inside him wasn't going to be filled with a replacement mouse. There was no replacing her. It didn't matter if there were hundreds of mice with comparable intelligence and affection to her. Minamino the mouse had been laid to rest, and Hiei did not want her shadow.

Hiei hurried on down to the next room. The door was cracked open, but Hiei knocked anyway. Doctor Pai called out to whomever to come in. Opening the door slowly, Hiei walked into her office. She was leaning over her desk, looking over record books with a pen in hand. She eyed him over the top rim of her glasses and smiled. It wasn't a cozy welcome. She might have been trying to be inviting, but her smile was off-putting. It was far less maternal grace than a snake sizing up its meal. She told him to close the door. Hiei did not.

Doctor Pai flipped the record book closed and dropped the pen. "So what brings you voluntarily to my office?" she asked, moving toward the front of her desk.

"None of your business," Hiei said. It was a stupid response, he realized, but it was more of an automatic answer than an intelligent one.

"Hiei, therapy is all about me getting into all of your business. I get to peek inside your head and rattle all those marbles around. So what brought you here?" Hiei refused to say. "Is it that Minamino boy again?"

Hiei shot Pai a pointed look.

Pai smiled victoriously. "Of course, it is." She made her way over to a tall filing cabinet, unlocked it, opened up the drawer, and flicked her fingertips through a dense row of manila folders. She grabbed a thick file and closed up the cabinet. "What are we looking at? Unfair treatment? Inappropriate sexual advances? Your heart stops at the way he sweeps his hair over his shoulder?"

Fuck this. Hiei turned around to storm out. He knew this had been a stupid idea in the first place. He had no time to be the verbal punching bag to this gadfly of a therapist. Coming here was clearly not worth wasting his time.

"For the first time in your life, someone has shown you trust and affection, perhaps even love, and it scares you," Doctor Pai said, all mockery gone from her voice.

Hiei stopped in the open doorway.

"Anger, rejection, anguish, you can handle these feelings. You've felt them all your life. But you don't know what to do when someone reaches over and hugs you or his leg brushes up against yours. Though for you, it's more like your feet."

Jab at his height aside, she was right. She was every bit right.

Hiei circled back halfway around. "Is it possible for someone broken to be fixed? To be…more like other people?"

"Depends on what you perceive how other people should behave," she said. "I can say there's no such thing as normal. People merely agree on what is and what should be considered normal, but there are always aberrations and flaws in every person. I believe people's anomalous qualities are what make each of us unique. They're the fascinating aspects of our minds and soul. Normal is uninteresting."

Getting a straightforward answer out of her was harder than getting one out of Kurama. "I just want to be less fucked up than I am now, is that possible?"

Pai wiggled her head side to side in consideration. Her riceball-shaped hair hardly moved. "Perhaps..." she said, a bit too playfully. Hiei snarled, silently threatening to leave if she wasn't honest. "It's not impossible. Depends on how committed you are to listening and doing the necessary hard work.

Hiei wanted to be committed if she wasn't going to toy with him every other breath. If she could actually do her job and make it so that he could touch Kurama without his body panicking and maybe even give him a chance at a future with him, then yes, he would commit wholeheartedly to whatever hard work he had to face. As long as it wasn't nonsense.

"Don't expect to come out of this sunny-eyed and born anew. Most of your social charms and graces will remain the same," Pai said. "I will be giving you the tools and advice needed for you to fight your inner demons and put them in their place, understood?"

Hiei nodded.

"Glorious," she said, with a smile.

-o-

Kurama Minamino was a sinner. But so was the rest of the world. He didn't understand how anyone could be born into this world, do nothing but good for humanity, and still die a sinner simply for not accepting one religion over another or any at all. Kurama's childhood list of questions of faith had only gotten longer, and the Church never seemed to have any clear answers. The answer always seemed to be that God's plan was ineffable. Some days, Kurama believed His plan was a certain kind of eff-able. But that was the wrath talking. He was consumed by it. And as sins went, wrath was high up there on the do-not list. A cardinal sin, one might say.

He was not a wrathful person by nature. Only particular things and people drew out the worst in him, the vengeful side of him. But the same could be said of any person. No one enjoyed seeing the people they cared about being abused. It was human nature to want to do anything to protect them and neutralize the offending threat.

And it was beyond time that Father Iwamoto reaped what he had sown.

Kurama sat waiting. He had not had a single meeting with Father Iwamoto yet that did not involve Kurama sitting and waiting for him to lumber into the room. He supposed he had time to spare tonight. His research was in ashes, and Hiei said that he had something to do and refused to elaborate what. If he was pulling a prank with Yusuke and Kuwabara, the least Hiei could have done was tell him where not to be tonight. (Or where to be to get them out of trouble.)

And so Kurama sat and waited. He thought about helping himself to a cup of tea. He decided to put on a kettle. After all, in such important discussions, it was polite to offer a cup of tea. Father Iwamoto had instant coffee. It wasn't his preference, but it would suffice.

The door lock rattled and clicked. Father Iwamoto entered his faculty apartment with a groan and heavy steps. An argument could be made that he was going for a minimalist look, but Kurama believed his apartment reflected his hollow, empty soul quite well. No decorative pictures, no family portraits, there was nothing but a single wooden cross on his beige walls. Father Iwamoto had a surprising amount of color in his wardrobe, not that any of it showed much taste—he had seen at least one green suit matched with a yellow tie.

Father Iwamoto saw Kurama, perfectly placid with one leg crossed over the other, waiting on his small sofa. "Jesus!" he shouted, grasping his heart and stepping back. He nearly tripped over his shoes in the doorway. "What are you doing here, Minamino?"

"I requested to have a meeting with you tonight, Father," Kurama said matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah..." he said, vaguely remembering. "Why did you come to my apartment?"

"My apologies, the door was unlocked. I thought that you might have simply stepped out for a second so I chose to wait for you," Kurama lied.

Brilliant minds often became bored without stimulation, and Kurama had taken to lock-picking when all other puzzles had failed to occupy his mind. The faculty apartments were not exactly a challenge—their locks had not been upgraded in thirty years. Not by the Academy, at least. A student ID card he had lifted from a classmate his first year was more than enough to jimmy the worn-out locks open.

Father Iwamoto's brow furrowed as he strained to think. "Shouldn't have been unlocked..." he grumbled. The small sofa creaked under Iwamoto's weight as he sat down at an angle on the opposite end. He sat with his legs spread wide. His knee knocked into Kurama's leg. Kurama wondered if the sofa held any sentimental attachment or if the bullish priest was too cheap to purchase a sofa more accommodating to his size.

"Pardon my late entry. I simply could not wait another moment," Kurama said as he offered him a cup of coffee. He waited until after Father Iwamoto had taken a generous sip to explain, "I need to partake in confession."

Father Iwamoto flashed him an annoyed look. "You know where the booths are and confession hours are posted. You don't need to have a meeting with me."

"Oh, but I must…" Kurama insisted sweetly. "I can't confess this to anyone else. It concerns a matter that only you would understand."

Father Iwamoto slurped down two more large sips. "All right."

Kurama bowed his head and rested his interlaced hands in his lap. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession."

"I have let the cardinal sin of wrath overtake me. I have had terrible thoughts flood my mind, each more violent than the last." Kurama's tone was eerily calm and measured. "I wish to hurt someone, a teacher. I wish to humiliate them and see their career in shambles. They have abused their power of authority and hurt someone dear to me for the last time. I am willing to expend every bit of my reputation and goodwill to see them gone."

Father Iwamoto looked bewildered as he stared into the dark threat in Kurama's brilliant green eyes. "God's judgment will not be enough retribution. So I will take it upon myself to serve proper judgment. I am sorry for all those sins and the sins of my past life." His expression did not look at all sorry for his sins.

Father Iwamoto was shaken and shaking. His hands struggled to hold his coffee mug still. "Pray, pray, my son, for forgiveness. And do not ever act on these thoughts of wrath. You are a good boy. You need not put a blight upon your shining soul. You've been spending too much time around Jaganshi. He is the Devil poisoning your mind. Limit your interactions to the classroom only. For your own good. Only God may lay judgment upon our souls. It is not for you to decide."

"It is by God's own grace that you are still employed here, Father. I have ways of ensuring that your violence ends here and now. I will see to it that your history of physical abuse against students and the Academy's payoff receipts are sent to every media outlet and you are blackballed from every school in the country. I don't want you simply moved to another parish. I want to see you excommunicated. Most of all, I want to see you feed the ground beetles in Aokigahara."

Father Iwamoto sat gritting his teeth, wanting to bite back but unsure how much of what Kurama was saying was true. It was amusing to see him swallowing back every vile word, his face flushed with rage and shame from being bested by a student with more influence in the Academy than him. Pity that he didn't choke on his own vitriol.

Kurama casually rose from his seat. He stepped towards Father Iwamoto and leaned in closer, letting his long forelocks dangle forward and frame his emotionless face. Father Iwamoto looked up, a sheen of sweat shining on his brutish brow. Kurama had been wondering where that stink of desperation was coming from.

"Pray, pray, Father," Kurama said, his tone low and cold enough to spread frost on Father Iwamoto's glasses. "Your soul is in my hands now, and I am less forgiving than God and more vicious than the Devil."

Kurama sauntered out of Iwamoto's apartment with the grace of the angel Lucifer on his way to lead the Rebellion, as Father Iwamoto might describe him right now. He hoped he enjoyed the bitter taste in his mouth—from here on out, it was all he was going to know. A familiar taste that was only going to grow more caustic and unbearable the more he gave into his own unforgiven wrath.

Kurama Minamino was not the Devil. He was no Archangel Michael vanquishing the Great Serpent either. He was merely a young man doing whatever necessary to protect those he cared for. Kurama Minamino was human. And despite his strutting about the campus and thinking himself some untouchable god, Father Iwamoto was human too. And no man was free from sin.