Second Try

Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try
Chapter Fourteen: Heedless
Word Count: 7,638
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho
Pairing: HieixKurama, KanisawaxKurama
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai, insanity, shoujo ai
Author: Kita Kitsune
Date: Friday(gold-day!),February 5, 2010
Miscellaneous Notes: Chapter finished, today~! :3 Hopefully I’ll get Chapter Fifteen done by the end of this month so I can post it, though~ Also: Very crow-heavy chapter. x.o;; It just came out that way. Next one will probably focus on another particular scene rather closely, although I’m not yet sure which~~ x3

More Notes(Sunday, February 28, 2010): Ugh, college is owning me, right now. I’ve not had any time to write, so Chapter Fifteen is barely written, at all… Also, I had to deal with a big relational let-down, right after I finished this chapter(around the 11th). Blah. Spring Break starts this Saturday, though, so hopefully then I’ll have a week to write, and maybe I’ll even get something more written for Chapter Fifteen, today…

;.; Uwah, I hope I’ll have enough written for it so I can post this chapter before 11:59 PM, today! x.x

(It’s 2:46 AM, now.)

Also, this: In honor of the ‘Month of Valentine’s Day’(and after much deliberation and beginning to hate the ‘?’ I’ve had in there, since the beginning), I have changed the second listed pairing until such time that Kanisawa’s ‘real identity’ becomes known(to Kurama). Of course, it doesn’t change a thing in the actual summary, as both ‘Karasu’ and/or ‘Kanisawa’ can fit as the ‘Ka’ in the fandom shorthand for the ‘Ka/K’ pairing. xD [Yes, I’m really that much of a detail-oriented, double-meaning geek that I planned that on purpose, from the start. :3 (It makes me giddy inside for no apparent reason, so hush.)]

Of course, you can also look at it as the crow fooling the lot of us(author as well as the readers? Oo;; ).

x3! Aha~

(8:03 PM): Well, I had an interesting day. Went to the work meeting, but felt dizzy and feverish—so about halfway through I had to say “I’m feeling dizzy, could I lie down?” and thus accidentally stopped the meeting and plummeted(safely, through my own power) to lie face-down on the carpet in the meeting room. Hah! They’re all my age, but it was still pretty bad(you know—pride-wise). I felt nauseous and generally UGH(might have to do with getting my period yesterday, but I haven’t felt sick with it in three cycles!). Think it was the heating pad I was using. It made me sweat a lot and overheat, and I gulped down the water they gave me like a dolphin. Once I cooled down I was better, and then I got a friend to walk me home just in case. It’s much better, now, but I need to nap… and then I remembered this fic. D: No, not all(or even half!) of Chapter Fifteen is written, yet, but I think I’ll get it done over Spring Break.

This is a ‘good faith post’, as I hope I’ll be able to get March’s post out in March. x.x Be glad I thought of you guys before I went down to rest, otherwise I don’t think this chapter would’ve gotten out before the end of the month~! [Ah, who’m I kidding, it’s all for me and my twisted sense of tradition. xD]

Reviews would be lovely to wake up to. :3

: : : : : : :

It was, perhaps, the most indelibly routine existence he had lived, thus far. They would rise with the dawn, always from the same bedroom, to go about training exercises with the shinobi designated ‘Teacher’. Day after day it was the same, old techniques giving way to new only gradually. The time spent here was endless—they did not permit him to go on heists upon being such a novice, despite how talented he was. They groomed him in every way—sneaking, using his skills with plants to their utmost, encouraging creativity in problem-solving, pressing upon him the importance to have a plan behind a plan behind a plan, just to be prepared.

His first job came and went without much fanfare. It annoyed him, to say the least, but when the leaders announced they were to attend what Reikai had titled the “Tournament of Darkness for Those Honorable Inhabitants of the Demonic Realm Who May Be So Inclined”(the lengthy title of course keeping with the fashions of the time) it cast a smidgeon of interest into his dull life. Granted, the ‘tournament’ had existed for centuries before the formal decree, but Reikai’s approval came with a loose set of rules as well as a place—in the Ningenkai, the Spirit Realm’s precious jewel, nonetheless!—and an arena. It was a bribe for peace, and a good one, but the youkai themselves couldn’t care less about the order so cleverly installed upon their chaos. So long as there was death and blood on an annual basis, none really cared what went about making the event itself occur.

As in those days and latter ones, a select number of humans did have some stake in the fights that went on—but it would be many, many centuries before any dared set foot on that island to manage their interests directly. At this time in history, youkai were still a wild, untamable bunch that would remain so until greater part of humanity began to lose faith in their actual, supernatural existence.

‘Kurama’ did not recall much of those first epic fights as he was too silently awed by the sight of spraying blood and dismembered limbs. The rush of the cheering crowd around him was an intoxication all in and of itself—he may have even shouted along with them for death, even if he would never disclose that fact to anyone in his newer incarnation. He was a young youko, yet—his bloodlust would not be sated until he had further matured. Then again, that was to be expected due to the environment in which he had been ‘raised’.

The ritual began, here—perhaps to sate the youkai hatred for humanity(still only young, the two species were too different and the barrier that would come with Reikai’s need to protect its ‘treasured world’ nonexistent, causing them to interact and clash)—the worst of humanity were given a token jab at freedom. They were prisoners, these first ones—given the laughing promise that if they survived, they would be given anything they wished. Of course it was a lie, and Reikai’s way of appeasing the demons by them relishing seeing humans being rent limb from limb by their brethren. It was a chance to see youkai raised above ningen, as they should be, and an instance for youkai to compete for the title of ‘strongest’. Only in later days would the rules grow sterner, as well as the requirements for teams and substitutions—but this would be a long time in coming to pass.

: : :

~Present Time~

The redhead softly stepped inside, calling out to the quiet interior of the house as his guest followed behind him.

“Tadaima!” A little late, he noticed the second pair of shoes in the genkan, and paused—they looked like women’s shoes, but it was only one pair. It couldn’t be one of her book meetings, she would have told him beforehand—and there would be more pairs, besides. Working his own shoes off, he slipped into the hallway, and Shiori popped around the edge of the parlor, smiling at him warmly.

“Okaeri, Suu-kun! We have a visitor, she…” The brunette trailed off as her brown eyes settled on the other teen standing a bit awkwardly in the hallway, eyes averted downward and arms folded behind his back in uncertainty. This lasted only a moment, however, her son disturbing it as he blinked his own green gaze in surprise.

“Do we? Ah…” He cast an apologetic glance back towards his friend, and she noted the quick meeting of gazes between the two of them. “I brought Kanisawa-san, I thought you had wanted to—”

“Oh!” Understanding flooding instantly into her expression, the Japanese woman smiled around her son’s shoulder, patting it comfortingly. “Oh, that’s fine, Suu-kun. It’s Kuwabara-san.” He mentally noted the difference, there—‘san’, not ‘kun’.

So it must be Shizuru, then. He smiled, nodding and gesturing behind him.

“I’ll leave him to you, then. Shizuru-san must want to talk to me.” He left the hallway, padding silently into the room. Shizuru was seated on the couch, for once not nursing a cigarette, and a half-eaten cookie rested on the napkin in front of her. Shrewd brown fell on him in a moment, and she leaned back, arms crossed casually over her front.

“Kurama-kun—” Her eyes flicked to the hallway. The cheerful sound of his mother’s voice echoed out from there, light and happy. That hard gaze returned to him, evaluating.

: : :

“Ah… It is nice to meet you, Minamino-san. My name is Kanisawa Takashi.” He bowed, feeling rather out-of-place without Kurama in sight. He forced a smile, his eyes involuntarily flicking towards the entrance his kitsune had disappeared into.

“I see, I see. Well, it’s wonderful you could come.” She smiled at him, and he found his gaze resting on her. Fine dark hair was tied back into a low ponytail—straight, he noticed, with dark eyes. She truly was a commonplace Japanese national. Straight hair, dark eyes…

Despite their hue, he found something familiar in their depths. A kindness, a fragility—it reminded him of someone, from long ago. Unsure of what to do with that memory and the comparison that came to mind, he offered another awkward smile, bowing his head a bit more.

“Ah, yes… Suuichi said you wished to meet me.” A flicker of intelligence caught his casual use of her son’s first name, and her smile turned a hint warmer. She reached out, gently cupping his cheek and gazing up at the boy who was only slightly taller than her own.

“…Yes.” She smiled, then. “I hope you will take better care of him.” Than his last boyfriend. The continuation rang in the silence after that statement, and it was seen in her eyes, how they watched his quietly, calmly seeking an answer he could not voice. The crow youkai was mildly taken aback at her candor, and felt an altogether unwelcome, telltale heat dart across his face. The woman laughed gently, patting his face before turning.

“Come, let’s see what Suu-kun and Kuwabara-san are talking about. There are some cookies in the parlor, if you’d like one—”

She was offering her back to him as she exited. He could kill her with one well-placed blow through her back, and straight through her heart. Kill her. Kill her, as he had killed his mother who so acted like this woman before him. Was Fate mocking him? Bringing him back around, in another world, only to again meet the sort of mother that he had had—the knee-jerk urge to murder her was strong. Murder her, so that Kurama’s attention would solely be focused on him. Murder her, so that she would be protected from causing the kitsune pain as she grew older, feebler and—no doubt—sicker.

Murder her, now. The soft sienna hue in his eyes shifted as he stared at her retreating back as though through a fog, and never more had he wanted the use of his ki. He slowly advanced on the woman, a cloud of violet sneaking into his intent gaze.

: : :

How could Kurama not sense it? He was staring at her as though perplexed, when she could feel every fiber of the supernatural being in the other room. Shizuru didn’t need to see the person to know something was off about him. She stood, narrowing her eyes as she shifted her weight restlessly to one hip, arms still crossed over her front and that long skirt brushing against the tops of her tall boots.

“Kurama.” She inclined her head to the side, indicating the direction of the hall. “That guy is not right. I can sense it from here.” She cast him a suspicious glance, as the ki of that stranger in the hallway began to shift.

Awkwardness? With Shiori? That can only mean… She allowed her glare to turn a bit more severe, and the redhead in front of her hesitated in giving his response, granting her an opening to continue speaking.

“What are you thinking, huh? I don’t have a problem if you’re moving on from Hiei, but at least choose someone that’s got a better feel to him, eh?” She cast another glance towards the hallway, gaze sharpening only further as she felt another change in the suspicious ki.

Not good. Can’t Kurama sense his intent?! It had shifted again, but this time dangerously so. Scarcely thinking about it, she strode to the threshold that led into the hallway, offering a sharp, knowing smile as she pinned the advancing man’s gaze with her own. It stopped him, at least, although she could clearly see the urge to kill yet floating in the red that hovered over his gaze. Shiori blinked at her, utterly oblivious, and as she felt Kurama come to stand behind her she physically saw that murderous look in those purple eyes disappear completely behind a swirl of innocent brown.

Her own naturally brown eyes thinned only more in suspicion.

Not good.

He’s somehow made it so Kurama can’t sense his intent. Why would he do that? What’s he trying to hide?

And what does Kurama think he is—a normal human? Not with that ki.

His spirit doesn’t match the body. They’re on two different wavelengths.

That he would go this far—who is he, and what does he want?

He’s putting on a masquerade, but for what purpose?

She pressed her lips together in subdued frustration, still coolly watching the brunet as Kurama proceeded to introduce them. Shizuru wasn’t fooled by that falsely deferential bow, but played along, inclining her head politely. No need to upset Shiori, after all. She shouldn’t cause a scene, here.

“Pleased to meet you, Kanisawa-san.” She saw those dark eyes narrow towards her. He’d caught onto her realization, obviously. Well, good. Maybe being nervous about his secret getting out would keep him in check.

Botan was right to be worried.

: : :

She quite literally blew in the door, almost pulling it off its hinges with her gathered momentum but settling to hover gracefully in the air, despite the shell-shocked looks of the two ghosts she’d startled. Meirin-chan’s eyes were wide, and she was clutching to Minamino-san’s arm as though he would keep her safe. This all went unnoticed, as with a bright smile Botan produced the document, floating just to the side of the solemn-faced brunet.

“Thank you, Botan.” He took the documents, and with a pop! reverted to his toddler form. Meirin-chan squeaked, while Minamino-san just shook his head. The tiny prince turned to them both, shuffling through the documents before handing them out.

“All of you, look through this list. It will go faster with the four of us.” Amber eyes narrowed over their blue pacifier as he shuffled his own pile of sheets.

“You are looking for a demon who goes by the name of ‘Karasu’.” He heard a gasp, and knew that the reaper behind him had put a hand to her mouth in shock. He went on, undeterred. “It is represented by only one character, and combines the symbols for ‘fang’—on the left—and ‘bird’—on the right. Get to it!”

The group fell into silence as they settled, each with a good amount of sheets of names of demons who had died that day. Hopefully, they would find the record of this ‘Karasu’s soul being accounted for in Reikai after his death, soon.

If not…

: : :

She knows.

Granted, she couldn’t know precisely who he was, otherwise she’d have told Kurama in a heartbeat. He felt somewhat relieved by that, at least—but the way she was staring at him revealed her thoughts. It had been stupid of him to lose himself, like that. No matter how much Kurama’s mother reminded him of his own, she was just as forbidden to kill as the kitsune himself was.

No, that’s not—I’ll kill Kurama, too, when this has been settled properly.

Secure in his rationalization, he returned his attention to the present moment. Currently, he was nursing a cup of tea, seated across the table in the living room from a brunette likely around the age of his current body—and who was glaring suspicious death at him. Thankfully, human culture prevented her from making any drastic moves while in Kurama and his mother’s presence. He never thought there would come a day when he was grateful for the limits human society placed on its natives.

Kurama was seated beside him, and his mother across from the redhead. The reincarnated demon tried his best not to look at her—without being overtly suspicious, of course. She was grading him, that much he could feel, and to be too meek might win bad acclaim. She might not approve of him ‘dating’ her son. He had to ‘prove himself worthy’.

…Humans were so petty.

He offered a congenial smile towards the glaring younger woman(and, conveniently, the older one seated beside her), making his voice as light and conversational as possible.

“This is lovely, Minamino-san. Thank you.” That was all he could sum up, at the moment. His mind felt stupid and blank, and if he weren’t baffled by the mere thought of it he could have sworn his palms were sweating, again. Luckily, his youko intervened.

“Ah, Shizuru-san, how is Kuwabara-kun? Is he keeping up in his studies? I’ve heard from Yuusuke that he wants to become a doctor—” He could see it didn’t work, her eyes were still suspicious—but at least they turned from him, softening and answering the kitsune’s inquiry with polite small-talk.

He decided, at last, that this situation was rather awkward. It had to be the situation, of course. There was nothing the matter with him. Nothing had changed. He sat relatively quietly for the next few minutes, allowing the conversation to pitter-pat around him.

“Kanisawa-san?” He mentally started upon hearing his pseudonym come out of nowhere, blinking otherwise calmly up at the motherly smiling face, her brown eyes warm.

A smile surrounded by straight, lengthy dark hair, purple irises that matched his own.

He briskly dismissed the layering vision, smiling slightly and neatly setting his teacup on the tablecloth of the coffee table before him.

“Yes?”

“What is it that you do, again? Suu-kun hasn’t been kind enough to tell me.” He felt a shifting of Kurama’s ki beside him, and resisted the urge to smirk. To be gently yet publically scolded by your mother, and to feel embarrassed by it—the emotion was foreign to him, but coming from his beloved it was rather endearing.

“I manage my family’s affairs.” It was the simplest answer, surely, but she was staring at him curiously and he felt it was expected that he say more. He improvised. “I… work as the Head of the Manor, under my uncle. It involves balancing his daughter—my cousin—‘s and his wife’s appointments, diets, recreations and various other requirements.” There, that was enough, wasn’t it? She was blinking at him as though in surprise.

“Your family? A manor? Then you’re—does your uncle run a company around here?” He felt a lingering sense of trepidation. Surely she didn’t… He smiled again, belying his inner thoughts.

“Why, yes. He runs the Kanisawa Corporation.” For a moment he was terrified that she would know of its underground dealings, but she only shifted to beam at her son.

“Ah, Suuichi, I knew it~!” She turned back to him, still smiling. “I work as a secretary in the Public Relations division. What a coincidence!” She then tipped a sly, teasing glance towards her son and he felt a flicker of appreciation for the look. It spoke of intelligence, a mind beyond what was shown. “There, you’ve made a good choice, dear. He’s cultured, as well as set to become the heir of such a large company.”

He could feel Kurama blush beside him, and had to bite his tongue to kill the chuckle that wanted to escape. The brunet refused to sneak a glance at his fox, although he was sure the redhead’s expression was somewhat hilarious(if that sputtering cough as Kurama had choked on his tea was anything to go by).

“’k-kaasan! That’s not—!” That sly look instantly disappeared to one of complete innocence, brown eyes half-mooning warmly at her boy.

“Ah, I know, Suu-kun. I was only kidding~ It’s good that you two fell in love before you knew that.” To that, he felt his own face heat, and had to glance away, no matter how undignified it seemed. The youko had gone silent, and, if he had to guess, Kurama’s face was now the picture of a gaping fish. He heard the sound of a muffled snort—likely that ‘Shizuru’, finding amusement in all this. Perhaps for Kurama’s mother’s perception, but who knew? Ningenkai relations between parent and child were so odd, after all.

“Geez, Kurama, this is better than the daytime soaps…” Here he glanced up, catching the tail-end of a smirk on the younger woman’s face as she eyed her friend. He also noted that green eyes had risen to glare at her—albeit not so seriously as they could, given that his mother was right there. As though to break the silence, Shiori laughed, waving a hand.

“Ah, this is a good time, isn’t it~?” That glare turned to a frown, as he rounded on his mother. Kurama’s tone, however, was as ever-polite as always.

“’kaasan? Don’t you need some help with putting on another pot of tea?” She smiled at him, just as sweet and polite, as she rose to stand.

“Why, yes. Thank you for offering, Suu-kun.” The kitsune moved to stand and he and his mother headed off, disappearing into the kitchen. The young woman’s gaze lingered on the two Minamino as they left, offering a polite smile and a wave. Unnoticed, he casually passed his fingers over the table and the cups that remained upon it, catching the handle of his teacup gracefully in hand. She slowly turned to watch him. Her gaze had sharpened, and the brunette leaned back, reclining on the couch—arms crossing confrontationally over her front.

“So. Who are you?” He hid the beginnings of a smirk carefully behind the porcelain rim raised to his lips, at the lack of fear in her tone.

: : :

~A Few Hours Earlier~

Brows were knit beneath a bright smattering of crazy red locks, jutting every which way. Crystal-clear eyes were closed, his entire form calmed in a rare moment of mediation. Crossed legs floated a good couple of feet off the ground, his arms folded neatly over his front, as well.

“They’re in trouble, aren’t they?” He hadn’t even heard the sound of the shoji door sliding open—but he knew the presence, and so the redheaded demon didn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Yeah. Urameshi’s wind i’n’t doin’ so well. ’s disturbed. Hiei’s, too, although with ‘is it’s harder to tell—” Touya moved to lean against the doorway, leaving the fragile wood-and-paper door out of harm’s way behind him. The smoothly polished wood floor of the hallway was visible through the open entrance, as a result. The ice-wielder folded his arms, watching his longtime partner carefully. Jin was strangely at peace, none of his usual exuberance showing—but then, that was what a lifetime of shinobi training could produce. A disciplined side, a rebellious side… he had them, as well. At last, those sapphire optics creaked to slivers, focused off to the side. The ice youkai felt a need to state the obvious.

“If we leave this temple, Reikai will sense us.”

“Yeah.” The shorter youkai kept his voice quiet and matter-of-fact.

“You’re worried about Yukina-san, as well, aren’t you?”

“…Yeah.” The petite demoness had grown on all of their hearts, really. Shishi, Suzuka, Chuu, Rinku—they all would do anything for her. Rinku was young, yet—he didn’t deserve a lifetime in jail, and even one with his potential was too weak to survive by himself in Makai. Chuu was seldom sober, there. Ningenkai was ‘more fun’, in the drunkard’s opinion. Likely because, while booze was easier to score here, it was much more diluted than he was used to. Kept him sober, but not really out of trouble.

Shishi and Suzuka… they were finally at peace, here. Toguro had been defeated, and so Suzuka felt cheered by the fact Urameshi had, indeed, been strong enough to beat him. Shishi was just—well, he’d never admit it, but he liked Suzuka’s melodramatics, at times. It was all for the best, really… the blue-haired swordsman had seemed rather put off by the fact he’d been beaten by an old woman. Was it any wonder Suzuka paraded around in his one battle as himself in the Tournament, decreeing he be called ‘The Beautiful Suzuka’? Especially after Shishi had admitted to the entire stadium that he could have fallen in love with Genkai, were she always in her younger(and prettier) form. He’d been pouting since then, almost, but Suzuka was beginning to slowly draw him back out. The ice demon could have sworn he saw the chibi form of Shishi curled comfortably in Suzuka’s lap one lazy, sunny afternoon. Could have sworn he saw Shishi almost-smiling, not smirking, one day not so long ago—

“Touya.” Pupil-less eyes moved to his friend, noticing that Jin was staring at him intently, now. Both clawed hands palmed a knee, though he was yet seated, cross-legged, in midair. He recognized that look. They had had the same thought. They had nothing to risk—they were shinobi, already wanted by their sect and Reikai for daring to step out of the shadows and reside in Ningenkai. They already had enough crimes to pay for—innumerable ones, over the past few decades, to put them away. Their shinobi clan would kill them if they found them, for deserting the sect. They couldn’t go back to Makai, and as a result they had nothing to lose. They couldn’t get jobs in Ningenkai, they stood out too much and presented a risk to the ‘normal’ humans. They were unaccustomed to the culture here, as well.

No past. No future.

The ice ninja felt a corner of his mouth twitch upward in an aborted smirk. He kept his pride in otherwise keeping his expression stoic.

“Jin. If we go after them, we will likely be caught and imprisoned.” The wind master gave a grin big enough for the both of them. His slouched back straightened as pointy fangs showed and elfin ears perked to attention. The small white horn on the top of his head gleamed gently against the light from the hall.

“Yeah. Ain’t that a kicker?” Touya tipped his head, indicating the open door behind him. They were used to life on the road, they could live with nothing. Take off with nothing holding them back.

“I suppose we can’t leave the rescue attempt to Yuusuke and Hiei, after all.” The ice master held out his hand, bracing himself. His redheaded friend beamed at him, the gratitude clear—thanks for letting us go, I couldn’t live with myself with the three of them in danger—and clasped his hand, hard, pulling Touya in towards him as a swirl of wind wrapped securely around them both. The familiar weightless feeling set in as Jin’s power settled over him, and the room around them was trashed, inadvertently. As the tempest sphere burst through the roof and into the sky they heard the faint sound of Genkai yelling about them repairing it when they came back.

Jin just laughed, waving goodbye towards the compound as they sped off, fast as thought, and Touya turned away, hiding the smile that wanted to escape over his face.

It would be good to have one final battle in the light before they were forced into centuries of atonement.

: : :

~Present Time~

“That was unnecessary, ‘kaasan.” She headed for the empty kettle on the stove, noting that he broached the subject as soon as their guests were out of earshot.

“Mmm?” She gently moved it beneath the sink’s faucet, letting it begin to fill. It never hurt to look busy. “I wasn’t aware it made you uncomfortable. Really, now, I was only having a bit of fun.” She heard a sigh, and knew her son was running his hand through his hair in exasperation. She smiled at the kettle in front of her, then turned the spigot off and glanced back at him.

“He seems like a nice boy, Suu-kun. He likes you. And he’s much better-mannered than that other one you had, a while ago—what was his name…” Her tone trailed off as she put her attention once more upon the stove, granting him a reprieve and allowing him to react without needing to politely shield. Her back facing him, the redhead felt his heart clench, lips practically fisting around the painful word.

“Hiei.”

“Ah, yes, that was it. At any rate, I hope he’ll treat you better.” She shook her head, turning the dial to activate the burner. “Hiei always disappeared out of nowhere, he was so grumpy and sullen—you deserve better than that.” There was a soft silence, then.

“’kaasan… You don’t need to—”

“I know I don’t need to, dear.” Here she looked over her shoulder at him once more, smiling happily. “You’re my only son, and I simply want what’s best for you. That Hiei didn’t make you blush as Kanisawa-san does. Why, I merely mention something trivial, only poking a bit of fun, and you turn red as a beet~!” Her tone and gaze turned serious, then. “You never reacted that way with Hiei. He seemed to make you more confident, cooler, but Kanisawa-san… he makes you more insecure. That’s how love is, dear.” He was staring at her, now, with that unreadable expression he sometimes had—and she bit her lip, fighting back memories of her first husband. She turned back to the stove, resting the heels of her hands on the bar on the oven door for support and blinking away old, stubborn tears. Her knuckles curled gently against the cool metal.

“Love is allowing someone to affect you enough that they draw out the ‘real’ you, Suu-kun. It can be frightening, but it’s all right, in the end. It always works out as it should…” Her heart ached, to that. She didn’t want to give him false hope, or the pessimist’s view. For it had worked out, for her—a husband, a son, a loving family. Even though her husband had died when Suu-kun was only three, the gift of the child he’d given her lived on, to this day. It was enough that she could now seek happiness for herself, secure in the fact she had raised him well despite the challenges a single mother faced, both financially and romantically.

The soft, unidentifiable scent of growing, earthy things enveloped her, and she paused in her musing as her son’s arms wound around her from behind. He was clutching to her like a child—like he did when he was younger. His embraces had never felt like those child-hugs her friends had told her their own children did—when they were scared or sad. He was never really frightened, he never clutched to her out of fear or sorrow, it seemed. Times like this, she just felt a deep wave of love and gratitude. Was there awe, there, too? It amazed her, to some extent, how she had raised such a balanced young man. It was as though he was a true ‘old soul’—so mature, always so composed.

It made demonstrative moments like this all the rarer, and so she smiled softly, gently patting his arm as she had done when he was smaller. She was so lucky to have been blessed with such a thoughtful, caring boy. They stood in silence for a while, a parent and her child sharing the kind of bond few could even dream about.

: : :

She woke to the sounds of screams and a rumble, as though a table had been knocked over.

It was chilly outside, but not enough to bother her, and so—in her night yukata she crept to her door, cracking it open just a bit. The lamps were out, in the living room, and so the sounds came from the bedroom down the hall. Hina-mama and Rui-mama’s room. To this, the little girl hesitated. She had never ventured in there, before. Rui-mama had said to keep—

“LET GO OF ME, YOU BITCH!” She winced, hiding behind the threshold of her room as though her eavesdropping could be seen from behind that closed door, delicate childish fingers pinching their pads against the smooth wood. Yukina took a small breath, and set her face, squaring her tiny shoulders.

Hina-mama was upset. Rui-mama had told her to stay away if she ever heard this in the night, had told her to put the pillow over her head and go back to sleep—

Maybe, though… maybe she could help Hina-mama feel better? Just this once? Maybe she could do something that would make Hina-mama go back to smiling in her absent-minded, softly distracted way at her? Hina-mama was pretty when she did that. Pretty, and nice, and she seemed happy—

Making up her mind, the little koorime placed a tabi-socked toe outside her room, and slowly advanced towards the door. There were crashes, this time, and more yelling—now muffled, as though by something soft—that emanated from behind that entrance, and she paused only once. It was brief, and she soon steeled herself to start again, raising a shaking hand to the sliding shoji—

“DON’T TOUCH ME! WHAT RIGHT DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE?! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU—”

The shorter, adult ice maiden paused mid-shout, and both sets of blue eyes locked on the frightened, doe-like pair of red ones that seemed grey in the lack of light. They hovered only a few feet above the polished wood floor, set atop a pre-pubescent, girlish frame from which the sleeping robe hung off of one pale shoulder. For a moment, all was still. Then, Hina shrieked, lunging for her child and Rui was just a few steps too late to catch her as mother and daughter tumbled to the ground. But Hina was sobbing into that sea-green hair, hugging her child and seeming not to notice that Yukina had gone stiff with both surprise and fear.

“Oh, oh Hina! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! You should never pick Rui, she’s evil…” The conspiring whisper strummed through Yukina’s heart like a blade, trying to sever tentative bonds she’d created. The comment caused her eyes to lift in utter confusion towards her more stable mother-figure, who had hastily closed her own sleeping yukata and was utterly still, eyes only for the little girl pinned in an insane embrace.

Fear. She saw fear, there. Rui-mama was afraid. Slowly, she began to hear the ramblings echoing right into her ear, once more.

“Never lay with that fire demon, never do that, let him die in the storm, don’t save him, turn your heart to ice—“ The murmurs were coming quicker, now, and she gasped in a breath that was suddenly hard to take. Cold hands pressed into her cheeks, and frazzled sapphire strands strayed like spilt ink over her ‘true’ mother’s pale face, eyes focused on something she could not see.

“Oh, oh… it’s you? Hio? Mama’s sorry, Hio… so sorry—” Her mother smiled, then, brokenly staring into the crimson eyes identical to her little son’s. It was the only feature she could recall of him, with clarity. She’d scarcely seen him, before—

Her expression hardened, ki flailing wildly and Rui felt a gut-wrenching stab of emotional pain. The taller ice apparition started in shock at the scene before her, frozen for a few precious moments—then lunged, hoping she wasn’t too late!

The little ice maiden choked, hands clawing at the pillow cutting off her air as her mother forced it flush with her face, a hand on either side of Yukina’s head pressing the plush object into the hard floor. She was suffocating the girl slowly, pinning her head with the pure brutality of one whose mind has gone as she straddled the small, writhing body. The flailing of smooth, prepubescent limbs grew weaker as the tiny koorime was denied a steadying breath.

“Die, Hina! Die, now! If you die now you’ll never see that fire demon, never have Hio or Yukina—they’ll never suffer, they’ll never be born! Die, die, DIE, DIE—” The hands were suddenly pried away and Yukina shakily pushed the pillow from her face, gasping and wheezing for breath and eyes fleeing upward as she watched. Rui-mama had covered Hina’s eyes with one hand, and used the other to take her wrists, twisting them away from her partner’s own child. She didn’t look at Yukina. All Yukina could think of was how much taller Rui-mama was than Hina-mama. How much taller, and stronger, and nicer—

“Yukina-chan. Are you all right?” The mad mutterings of their mutual loved one had been subdued with the lack of sight, and Rui-mama turned carefully—not letting up her hold—to catch a furtive glance of her adopted daughter. She looked scared, shaken, but she was breathing all right. Rui tried a tight smile towards the frightened little girl, keeping her lover in check with a firmly gentle grip.

“Go back to your room, Yukina-chan. Please stay there until morning—and try to get some sleep.”

Rubbing her suddenly-parched throat, the little girl managed to push herself up with a minimum of trembling, and slowly shuffled out the sliding door. She shut it behind her, and wandered back to her room—also closing the door behind her, there. The hiruiseki around her neck was cool and cold against the skin between her undeveloped breasts. She put a hand to it, holding it tightly, and scrambled to the futon. She immediately hugged close the little stuffed bird Rui-mama had bought for her, long ago enough that she couldn’t remember not having it. It had her own scent, which had rubbed off from too much hugging and too little washing. She’d had it so long it even had her youki embedded within. It was a fluffy and fat baby bluebird—a type not often seen in such frigid weather—and good for snuggling.

It also muffled her sobs and soaked up the first few tears she could ever remember crying.

: : :

~Present Time~

Hiei felt a choking blow to his midsection, which sent him sprawling into the sand with a cough, half-buried under the cold dirt. In another moment Yuusuke had stood before him, his posture hard and suspicious, voice loud.

“Wait! What’s going on!” He pinned a severe glare on the blond boy, who looked scared for a moment before grinning widely. A low voice from behind him met the air then, and he turned to glance back at the Jaganshi who was pushing himself to a stand, ruby narrowed angrily towards their foe.

“They have Yukina. This hiruiseki is hers.” Realization dawned, and Yuusuke ground his teeth in anger, punching his fist into the palm of his hand as he turned around. He smirked, expression full of teeth as he strode forward.

“Then I guess we’ll have to beat the crap out of this guy until he tells us where she is!”

: : :

The days and months blurred after Kurama attended his first Tournament, until time began to slow once more. Rumors spread of a merciless youkai rising from below—a malignant presence who upset the power of the one great ruler, Raizen. Legions of Raizen’s followers had gone(without their lord’s permission) to cut down the rebellious youkai and the rogues that came in his anarchic wake. The battles were long and fierce, but none so much as in the center of the field. The youkai’s hands were chained in front of him, his head wrapped in a tight, ancient scrawl of bindings and perhaps wards, as though hiding some great disfigurement—but it might have only been to keep his identity hidden. His unnatural right eye was disturbingly round—it was too perfect, too white to be a real eye, but with the lack of any left eye to compare it to the rabble of demons were left to wonder what truly lay behind that mask.

The vengeful rebel emerged from the battlefield covered in only speckles of blood, and a proud roar went up from the rogues surrounding him. As the tale went, he only spared them the merest glance with that baleful, eerie eye before turning his back on them and walking onward through the surrounding gore. The demons charged forward, yelling out his name and thrusting their axes or knives or poorly-crafted swords into the air, proudly trailing after their leader(at a healthy distance), eager to continue what they saw as a bid for the throne of Makai. It was an opportunity to steal from those inhabiting Raizen’s territory and take a bit of land for their own.

It was a thousand and some hundreds of years before a would-be old kitsune would cross over to the Ningenkai, stealing the life of a common woman’s fetus in order to save himself from death.

: : :

~Present Time~

‘Kanisawa Takashi’ only offered the brunette seated across from him an odd look, tilting his head in a bit of carefully-enacted curiosity.

“I’m sorry?” Shizuru’s gaze narrowed, and she leaned forward, arms moving to rest over her knees.

“Don’t play the innocent card, pal. It doesn’t suit you.” Here she straightened once more, fixing a cool glare on him. “I don’t know what sort of drug you’ve given Suuichi—” He noticed her unhesitating, casual reference to Kurama’s human name. How quaint that she thought he did not know the kitsune’s real one! “—but if you don’t fess up as to what sort of shit you think you’re pulling, I’m going to have to put a stop to this.” He offered another perplexed glance towards her, then smiled slightly as though humoring groundless accusations.

“Ah… I am afraid you have mistaken me for someone else. Perhaps something is not quite agreeing with you?” She caught the jab, just below the radar, and he could see her lips moving as though fighting an oral fixation of some sort that was frustratingly absent. Her fingers twitched, as though wanting to hold a small object between them—he only caught that from the corner of his eye, though. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping a notch.

“You’re playing a pretty dangerous game here if you think a psychic can’t see what you really are.” Those honey eyes were mere flecks of angered amber, now. Fascinating. She raised a hand, a single index finger rising to his forehead as though to touch it—ah, now. If she were a psychic, that would(not only explain a great many things, but) be an unforgivably stupid move on his part. The barest brush of contact could tell pages about an unprepared person. The brunet smiled benignly, once more, leaning back to avoid that digit with smooth nonchalance.

“Forgive me, but I do quite earnestly believe you’re mistaken.” She opened her mouth, and a fast movement had her catch his wrist in her hand. How complacent of him, to have the expectation of words work as an effective distraction. He felt a flood of warmth echo from that point of contact, and shut his mind quickly against it. He met her determined eyes and washed easily over the power of her will, threatening her identity and self all without uttering a word. What could a mere human hope to win over a youkai much more experienced in such matters? His eyes gleamed dangerously red in anger at her lack of respect. She was in over her head further than she could comprehend.

In the next instant she had released him, eyes jetting wide as she jerked back into her seat. He sensed the change in mood, detecting vulnerability and, unintentionally, his eyes hooded, dark lavender overtaking that brief flash of crimson as it leaked into his gaze. The demon shifted to account for her withdrawal, silky voice cool and logical as he moved to draw circles over the space of tablecloth with a trickle of the thwarted mind-bond she had tried to initiate, static of his gathered reiki crackling in the air. He did not miss the shiver that traveled over her shoulders, nor the feel of her mind solidifying itself against him. Had she never been mentally rebuffed, in such a way? Was she always the successful aggressor, believing her own power to be limitless? How proud she was, if she had indeed assumed such—or, perhaps she was merely loyal to a fault, willing to risk broaching her limits to help a friend.

Human motives were so very… mundane.

“I did warn you. Please refrain from doing that in the future. I wouldn’t wish for any harm to come to you.” Dark eyes bore down upon her with an evil smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth. She looked up, momentary fear firmly squashed back into apathy as she crossed her arms once more, delicate fingers twitching again as though at a loss without a much-used object.

“Kurama-kun is smarter than you think, and stronger than I am. He’ll realize it and find out who you are, eventually.” He smiled—noting her usage of that name—easing back into deception and leaning to recline familiarly upon the backrest of the couch. Dark eyes flickered over her form from beneath onyx strands as though examining a particularly engaging specimen.

“I have no doubt of that.” His tone was practically purring victory. “And, while I must commend your efforts, I would respectfully ask for you to remain silent about your… ‘discovery’. It is a private matter between us, after all.” She glared at him again, and he had to resist the urge to smirk.

“I’m going to tell him. He won’t run into this blind.”

“I would advise against that.” Leisurely, he gazed at her from below as he stirred his tea, allowing the purple to glint dangerously in the shadow of his bangs. She fell silent, watching him. A long-repressed emotion curled a corner of his mouth upward in a satisfied leer. Ah, how he missed open manipulation.

“My secrecy was bought at a great price, although if you do wish to have your identity and will stripped from you, then I have no qualms about you threatening to reveal what you know.” She stared at him a long while—normal threats were useless against her, this he could tell from the start. This was the very reason he now offered her an indulgent smile. “It would be quite pleasant to have an assistant.” He tried to word it as though he meant no harm—“accomplice” would have indicated a negative intention, and he did not need her any more suspicious of him than she already was.

This ‘Shizuru’ didn’t need to know that it was hard(nearly impossible) for him to strip a human’s identity without transferring his soul to their body—all she needed to believe was that it was possible. If she were this ‘loyal friend’, after all, she wouldn’t wish to risk harming Kurama. That brief spurt of reiki he had used(most of his stock, to tell the truth) should be enough to intimidate and cause her to overestimate his power. He played his hand perfectly, and pinpointed the moment when she pressed her lips together in quiet frustration, reaching for her tea and still glaring at him as she raised the cup to sip at it.

Of course, she would likely still tell Kurama, anyway. He couldn’t have that.

“I still don’t trust you.” He watched her swallow with morbid fascination, a grin curling his lips as she froze, eyes widening as the tea fell from limp fingers. She pitched forward, the cup landing with a dull thud and a muted spill over the carpet as he moved quickly around the table to catch her, murmuring sweetly in her ear as one of the many ‘emergency’ drugs he always carried on him took full effect, plummeting her mind into the haze of an overdose.

“As is prudent, of course—Shizuru-san.”

~*~To Be Continued~*~