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 Four: Gift
Word Count: 6,396
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama
Warning: Shounen ai, language
Author: Kita Kitsune
Date: Tuesday(fire-day!), August 11, 2009
Miscellaneous Notes: All righty! My first attempt at writing a certain crow. x.x;; Gack. Hope it’s not too horrible. I’m not used to ‘capturing’ him, but I’m trying~! Posts after this one might be a bit more sporadic. Heading back to school in a little over a week. x///x;;!

Reviews show me it’s worth it to post, so they affect how fast I update!

Five reviews~! Thanks to Hiei08 and rst for the ones for the last chapter. :3

: : : : : : :

~Six Months Later (a.k.a. the Next Day in Present Time)~

Moodily, the brunet stared out the window beside him, chin sulkily reclined against a propped fist, watching the scenery flick by. Ugh. So boring.

Who knew that for so much money, there was so little to do on one of these ‘bullet trains’? Although Koenma was paying for it, this time, so it perhaps wasn’t all bad…

He smirked to himself. Heh.

Idly, he found his thoughts returning to absent worry about the fox… eh. Kuwabara’d take care of it. He always did. Lifting a shoulder in an idle shrug, the detective merely returned to staring out the window, watching as morning began to haze into afternoon, musings far away as he contemplated why Hiei—of all people—would run off for half a year without telling even his supposed ‘best friend’, Kurama, where he was going…

Perhaps they had had a fight, then. And youkai weren’t like humans… sure, he and Kuwabara fought all the time, but they meant nothing by it. Kurama and Hiei, though… they didn’t fight much. In fact, one could easily say that the redheaded kitsune was one of the few people the Jaganshi tolerated on a daily, almost-pleasant basis.

He’d have to figure out what was going on in the demon’s skull. Koenma was pissed enough about it to bitch to Yuusuke, so it was obvious the godling was worried about something. Hell knew what it was, though…

…Damn shinkansen. It would’ve probably been faster if he’d just run there…

: : :

Whispered words and hands over mouths echoed around him, obvious in their subtlety. He ignored them, too used to it by now—it was his reputation, after all—remaining reclined against the school wall at his back, letting the other students pass by. He stood out enough, both his height and uniform color causing the others to skirt around quickly, giving him a wide berth.

Dark eyes fell on a familiar figure, and the redhead paused, blinking in muted surprise for a moment before offering a smile his way, turning slightly to those he’d been talking to and gesturing towards the waiting teen. At the sight, their jaws nearly dropped open, and the carrot-top had to resist the urge to smirk and puff out his chest. Clearly, they’d heard of him. A soft chuckle greeted his hearing, and he blinked, then grinning down at the long-haired teen, shoving hands into his pockets and settling to walk beside him.

“Hey, Kurama. What’s up?”

“Hello, Kuwabara-kun. Is there a pressing matter Koenma requires our presence for?” The taller youth shook his head, easily striding alongside his companion’s slender figure.

“Nah, not really. Just felt like payin’ you a visit. It’s been a while, you know?” Trying to be discreet, he fanned out his spiritual sensitivity around them, searching suspiciously for any sign of that ‘shadowy presence’ Urameshi’d told him about—while doing his best to keep up with the conversation, of course. If Kurama noticed, he didn’t appear to.

“Ah, I see. ‘kaasan mentioned you visited, yesterday…” He felt an amused gaze fall upon him, and offered a somewhat sheepish smile towards, even as the back of his mind narrowed, sensing a power nearby—

“Ahhh, yeah?” He rubbed the back of his head, laughing a bit. “Well, your mom’s cookies are the best, you know! Hell, if Shizuru could cook like that I’d—“

“What was that, my dear little brother?” He shrieked, jumping up a foot in the air before tumbling onto the ground, gazing in fear up to his sister’s leering face—and in no condition to register the kitsune’s soft chuckles—despite the fact she held a cigarette quite casually aloft, a thin trail of smoke wafting up from the end as she stood beside the other redhead.

“A-Ane!”

“’ttaku. Honestly, Kazu, you should be grateful that you even get a home-cooked meal, every night…”

“She’s right, you know, Kuwabara-kun.” Here his now-terrified attention shifted to the fox, but Kurama only beamed charmingly at him, visage the perfect picture of innocence. “You should appreciate all the work Shizuru-san does for you.” Beside him, she smirked lazily, offering a slight incline of head towards the kitsune in gratitude.

“Thanks, Kurama-kun. I’ve been telling him that for years. …Oi, and you, you ungrateful little—“ Here she flicked the cigarette away, instead leaning to catch her brother’s collar in a tight grip, face going stony, threatening, as she leaned close. “What’s with you staying out all hours of the night when you should be studying, eh?!” She cuffed him on the head, hard. “Do you even want to get into a good high school?! ‘ttaku!” Here the beat-down began, the younger of the two siblings squealing in fitful apology as she kicked and punched at him in a steadily-rising cloud of dust.

”After all the effort I go through to keep the house quiet and bring you snacks while you’re studying, you’re just going to blow it off?! You have entrance exams in a week! If you want to get into that A-class school and become a doctor, you’d better knuckle down and do the work, baka! You can’t just skip a night of studying because you want to, anymore! What high school you get into is the big-time! You’ve got to study hard! Geez, what a bother…” She snorted, stepping back onto the sidewalk and lighting up another cigarette, seemingly invulnerable to the stares that the passersby gave her, and quite easily ignoring the battered-and-bruised bony mess of teenager slumped against the school wall, his face a mosaic of lumps and scratches.

Sweatdropping slightly, Kurama merely shook his head with another small laugh. That is, until shrewd brown settled on him, and she brought his attention up from his team mate as she spoke.

“Na, Kurama-kun…” He blinked at her, softly, before offering a quietly polite smile, sensing a question.

“Hm… ?” Here the brunette exhaled a cloud of smoke, still eying him quietly.

“…have you… been feeling all right, lately?” It was a curious question, and perplexity at the asking of it showed in his eyes for a moment before a slightly warmer smile snuck out to curl over his lips.

“Aa, just fine, thank you.” He absently adjusted his bag where it was propped over his shoulder, optics half-mooning in a disarming expression. “Although I’ve perhaps been working myself a bit too hard, it’s nothing a little sleep won’t cure.” She nodded slowly, to this, gaze lingering on the fox as he excused himself, politely. The elder Kuwabara sibling remained staring after him long after he’d gone out of sight, and when her brother at last rose beside her she interrupted his comment, quietly.

“Maybe he’s really all right, and Reikai’s just—“

“No, Kazu. Something’s darkening his aura.” She thinned her eyes only further, at that. “…and it’s not just the youko aspect. Something’s definitely hovering around him.” Here she turned to seriously regard her brother, finding his face now as set as her own. “Keep Kurama in your spiritual sight. He might need help when we’d least expect it.” The boy nodded, serious—until she caught him by the ear and he began to flail, helpless against her flat tone and firm grip as she dragged him away down the street.

“But for now, you need to catch up on all the material you skipped, last night, bakayarou!”

: : :

Botan was at the end of her rope. She’d re-typed and re-sent that appeal back to Koenma’s desk six different times—didn’t her boss read these things?! Surely he would’ve noticed the same appeal cropping up, over and over…

It was a miserable situation.

Meirin-chan had died seven months ago, and she still refused to pass peacefully on. The little girl just couldn’t seem to get around the worry she had over her older brother. If she had been in Ningenkai, it would’ve been getting dangerous for her spirit, to be wandering around like that for over half a year. Bad things happened to souls that did not have guides. All sorts of demons could snatch them up and corrupt them, or worse, devour them… a soul was a soul. She shuddered. And as—most likely because—she was in Reikai, Meirin wasn’t looking any worse for the time passed… but it still had to be taxing. A soul could only survive in a body or in the Soul Plain, for a long period of time. With Meirin-chan not wanting to pass over into the Soul Plain, for fear of her brother’s soul…

Oh, not that the girl was in any danger, up here! The limit for souls surviving and still in good enough condition to reach the Soul Plain and reincarnate after wandering in Ningenkai was about six months, but in Reikai it lasted about a year. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Which was why she had booked an appointment with Koenma-sama a few weeks ago. She’d have done it before then, but there was disaster after disaster and the number of souls needing immediate ferrying across increased, and she had had to reluctantly shelve Meirin’s case for the time being.

Sighing, the ferry girl straightened her pink kimono and headed into her boss’ office, head upright and a bright smile on her face as she peered around the door towards the demigod stamping away at his desk.

“Botan desu! Hairimasu…”

The stamping did not cease even as she stood before the mounds of paper piled on the desk, the brunet god’s motions remaining instinctive although a somewhat flat voice rode the air.

“Yes, Botan?” …oh, dear. He was cranky. She smiled past it, though, cutely bending her arms upward at the elbows and giving the illusion of a pretty pink bird, with her kimono sleeves shaped just so and her hands neatly concealed behind the cuffs.

“Koenma-sama. About that appointment? The soul that will not pass on? She has been waiting for over half a year, already, and she’s waiting in her quarters—and you will have time to see her, won’t you?”

He made an annoyed grunt, waving her off with a hand.

“Yes, yes. I’ve got it on my calendar. I’ll see her.”

Realizing that Koenma-sama was perhaps busier than usual, the blue-haired shinigami bowed politely at the waist before excusing herself as quietly as she could. Once outside the door, she slumped back against it with a wearied sigh that did not become her usual cheery demeanor.

One could only hope Koenma-sama wouldn’t forget about the poor girl.

: : :

~Three Months Ago~

Now, then. Why had he waited until now to find a present for his beloved mother?

The kitsune walked along the somewhat-unfamiliar streets of downtown Tokyo, clad in a tight pair of jeans, a white T-shirt and his orange jacket, head tipping back to watch the skyline with a slight smile. He had to force down the sudden small urge to search for a tiny silhouette of a figure atop those buildings, wrenching his sight from them, instead scanning the shops for a store that might have something of interest to his mother. To his right, the traffic was backed-up and he quietly assented to himself that taking the subway had been the correct choice. He turned the corner, mind lightly occupied with what Shiori would find as a practical, yet thoughtful, gift…

: : :

Reluctantly, he settled into his new role in the Kanisawa household. The daughter, Tomiko, he found to be little more than an irritant—like to those same hundreds of demon girls clamoring for Shishiwakamaru’s attention and victory in the Dark Tournament. Coupled with the fact he was used to acting, to an extent—this experience still strained his ever-calm, although none of it ever showed on the surface.

Kurama will be worth it.

He would vow this to himself when going about the meaningless tasks ‘his’ aunt, uncle and cousin bestowed upon him. For all pretenses they had—and there had been quite a few public press conferences—of ‘taking in and caring for their unfortunate cousin who was struggling valiantly with the loss of his sister in a freak accident’, behind closed doors the humans certainly sang a different tune. The mother was brash and selfish, always stuffing her face… he thought, in an amused fit of insight, that she would have been hard-pressed not to win an eating contest against a Makai boar demon. The husband was in not much better condition—with heavy-lidded, watery eyes that made him appear to be eternally sick, and a slightly squeaky voice that he couldn’t quite believe was charismatic enough to wind things his way, in the business world. It left very little to wondering how he had thus become such a ‘success’. The man was yet another human who would have been better served to reincarnate as a demon.

The daughter was a thin, wiry, spoiled wisp of a thing. She dyed her hair a platinum blond color, and it was very distasteful the way she was ruining her hair with the treatments. Also, apparently with her parents as fat as they were, she endeavored rather hard not to be related to them in any physical way. Of course, with her inherited metabolism, it meant practically starving herself, but at least her moanings and groanings about gaining an eighth of a kilogram kept him dully entertained with the sounds of another’s ‘suffering’.

…when they weren’t firing the help and insist that he take over all their jobs, of course.

Although it did put him in quite a position to change things, should he ever grow too tired of their presence.

So rich, and yet so very obsessed with not spending more than they needed…

He was delegated to all sorts of demeaning tasks—grocery shopping, dry-cleaning, cooking, cleaning, errands and generally tending to their every whim, no matter how small. It was cutting into his searching time, extensively. As a result, the only time he found a moment to give into his desires and search so desperately for his beloved fox was well after midnight, when they were dulled out into the sleeping haze of the drug he slipped into their nightly dinner. He was careful not to poison them—just yet, at any rate—he did not need a Ningenkai police investigation with his current lack of spiritual ability to result in shuttering him uselessly away in some human prison.

A few months in the Ningenkai had acquainted him with all sorts of interesting aspects of the culture, one of them being how easy it was to arrange for illicit materials to make their way into one’s hands. Of course, what with the ‘connections’ and ‘contacts’ the two elder Kanisawa had made, their usual providers were all too happy to oblige any request so long as the client bore that surname. It was a bit too easy to break into his ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’s vast vault and help himself to a few funds, which he used to pay the yakuza off in return for the drugs. Aside from apparently being seen as a servant who no one need pay(as he was ‘family’, after all), he found he fit in rather comfortably with the family’s reputation. It was always more to his tastes to slink about in the shadows, anyway. His hair was growing pleasantly longer, as well—parted down the middle as was his habit, and already the strands were brushing the bottom sides of his jaw. When his power began to eventually return, it would grow faster, and so for the moment he compensated by wearing his bangs long(they’d been long when he’d first reincarnated here, but now easily concealed his face if he let them).

As he was eighteen—old enough to be out of high school, but not old enough to be considered an ‘adult’ in Japanese society, just yet—he could go and do many things. He blended naturally into the background of the seedier parts of town, dark clothes concealing his slimming and pale figure—which he was undoubtedly satisfied by. Despite the fact he had no useable youki, apparently his spirit was enough to begin warping the human form(physically) more towards what he had previously been. It was a small comfort, designated as he was to his current role.

Certainly, not being in control greatly bothered him, but forty years of being crushed under Toguro’s boot had enabled him to simply let what could not be changed, pass. He could easily hide his hatred of such beings that kept him under their boot, even fooling them into believing his acting was instead bore from a genuinely genial view towards them(as for the many times he had conversed rather ‘pleasantly’ with Toguro—especially that first match in which his gaze had been inexorably drawn to his beautiful fox on the sidelines, as the Urameshi boy fought the drunken ‘unofficial’ head of the Rokuyokai Team in the ring).

Perhaps in these matters, his pride did not enter into it—and he could not deny he was much freer than when he had been Toguro’s underling. These humans lorded their power over him, but the power they had was so easily transferrable to himself he found he couldn’t mind, all that much. Besides… it was more important that he remain cool and calm, bide his time, and stalk out his kitsune without anyone interfering in his plans. If he followed all of the human family’s demands with just the right amount of tempered annoyance coming across, they had no reason to suspect him. Naturally, any teenage human would rebel against such treatment, and so he made sure to act accordingly in situations where such a reaction would be expected and natural, although it was beyond him to actually wish to enter into a shouting match. Quieter means for revenge were so much more satisfying…

Mostly, this ‘acting’ equated to aloof glances and piercingly smooth remarks that would tear down the humans that surrounded him, if he did not rein himself in. There were also lovely images to contemplate, when he did finally regain his powers… notions of torturing the Kanisawa triad, breaking their minds in ways unimaginable to these quaint little humans who thought they directed and manipulated quite a large part of the Ningenkai underworld. And then, breaking their bodies as well.

Delicious ‘revenge’, but it was all in good fun, really…

He sighed, content with his thoughts, as he allowed his eyes to slip shut, playing with ideas and thoughts and best rearranging them in his mind for the most effective torment. Utterly serene, he didn’t quite notice the shade of red passing outside the tinted window of his limousine. They were stopped in traffic, just barely inching by—they usually took a different route, and had detoured this way in hopes of accomplishing their ‘mission’ faster, but it seemed all the roads were crowded, today—and so it was not too late when the whiff of achingly familiar youki-mixed-with-reiki dusted past his senses—dark eyes shot open, and he glanced hurriedly out the window, optics widening further as his human heart shot its pace up a good dozen notches.

…Kurama.

Kurama.

He could just see that mop of fiery hair disappearing around the end of the block in front of him, and he felt frozen. Palms cold, spine tingling with a jittery air of excitement.

A chance, a chance.

And oh, what a chance. What a coincidence.

Months of searching…

“Please excuse the wait, Kanisawa-sama.” The driver’s voice cut into his thoughts, polite and apologetic as he glanced back to him from the rearview mirror. “The traffic seems to be—“

Instantly, he smoothed out his face to its usual incarnation of reserved boredom. The dark-haired would-be teen waved an elegant hand, dismissing the apology and letting his voice glide out upon the air, giving nothing away of the elation he felt.

“Entirely understandable. However, I believe I shall meet you there.” He offered a mysterious, slightly chilled smile towards the man, optics glimmering slowly behind fine ebony. “I have matters that require my immediate attention.” Brown eyes widened in the rearview mirror, momentarily, before they were hastily cast aside with a nod, and with a small smirk of satisfaction that didn’t show, he heard the tell-tale sound of the car doors unlocking. Ah, but it was good to be in a family with well-known links to the yakuza and other underworld associations. The help dare not question any odd request, lest they find themselves fired, or worse, their entire family on the mafia’s hit-list simply for them ‘knowing’—or ‘asking’—too much.

The traffic was still immobile as he gracefully stepped from the car, quietly yet quickly stepping into the throng of people amassed on the sidewalk, maneuvering around and blending into them, dark lids set low and ahead as he strolled, shoulders high and proud with collected confidence—although there might have been a hurried sense to his step, as he rounded the corner that that beautiful redhead had just passed, himself, moments ago…

He scanned the streets immediately, dark brown drawn to that same familiar shade of crimson, inexorably. The ebony-haired youth felt a shiver of anticipation. His gaze remained locked on the kitsune, not daring to lose him again and winding around the crowd of humans surrounding him by way of his peripheral vision, all the while attempting to suppress both his reiki from giving him away and the excitement he felt from merely glimpsing the former youko. Spidery digits pet the ward in the pocket of his dark slacks—he carried it on his person each and every day, just in case today be the day he found the fox. With the added time it had taken to locate the kitsune, he had added a few improvements onto that first seal—hiding a spell within that would work as well as any tracking device, but nowhere near as detectable as such a tangible(and thus, easily discovered) piece of machinery.

Careful, careful. His mind whispered to him as he began to approach the oblivious redhead, winding soundlessly through the crowd, Kurama’s back still to him.

He mustn’t know it’s you. He’ll kill you. The warning he reminded himself of seemed of little consequence, now—and oh, wouldn’t it be a beautiful death if his fox were to kill him, again, wouldn’t it be a lovely tragic love affair cut horrendously short if he made one mere misstep(truly, the thought was raising his blood yet further) his gaze was locked on the fox, still, as he dodged around the other humans and another warning screamed in his ear.

Stop staring! He’s trained, he’ll sense it… Be discreet, be discreet, keep in control— Hastily he averted his vision with a good amount of effort, hearing the dull thud of his human heart against its ribcage take over his hearing. So different than the demonic nucleus he’d had for most of his life, that beat so much slower… was this how the kitsune’s heart went, as well? Did it race at times like this—

Stay in control! Kurama, Kurama…

He just needed a brush of skin. The seal would disappear upon coming in contact with the kitsune’s flesh—he’d engineered it that way, knowing of the heavy importance secrecy carried in these crucial beginning stages. Oh, he was close, now—if he could have made a bomb, the fox would have been within easy reach…

Stop! Casual, casual—so he just thinks you’re another human…

It was imperative Kurama think he was just another civilian on the street. Quickly, a slew of excuses for approaching the beautiful youth sprang into his mind. He was thankful for the crowded walkway, and the hour it was—many of the humans around him were likely rushing home from work, or close enough to walk to commute. A slow ache stole his breath as he drew ever closer, involuntarily feeling his intense stare drawn again towards the kitsune from beneath the dark tendrils of his bangs…

His eyes! He cursed low in his mind, hastily fumbling about for the sunglasses someone had pinned to the front of his shirt, earlier in the day. He hadn’t intended to wear them, ever—sunglasses were too much of a reminder of Otouto Toguro’s fancied ‘look’—but… if Kurama saw his eyes the kitsune would know. He would know, because—while the crow could easily conjure a perfectly fake expression—his eyes could never lie. It was part of the reason he was able to unsettle the most confident of youkai—his gaze told volumes, but the mask covering his face and the easily false tone he infused his voice with confused their senses, making them alert and(most often) distressed.

However, that wouldn’t do, here. One-handed, he flicked them over his eyes, the world turning a shade darker, but he could still see the kitsune walking only—only a few meters, now, was it? After months and months since he had last seen him, last touched that beautiful pale skin(albeit with only his creations, not his own fingers), last beheld those verdant hues, so full of passion and life and wholesome joy…

A pale hand twitching, wanting to snake out, wanting to touch—and he went with his instinct, the small paper tag of the seal in his hand as he suddenly began to run as fast as possible, glancing at the watch on his other wrist, staring intently at it as though he’d been checking it for a while, just as—

There was a soft cry of surprise, and then he was tumbling over the slim being in front of him—digits itching to touch elsewhere, everywhere but somehow managing to find a patch of bare skin and speedily apply the seal to it without wandering too far or with too long a pause—the scent wafting up from where his nose hovered just a few centimeters above the heady crimson mane made him dizzy with remembrance, of that one time in the hall, after the semi-finals, when he’d finally been able to caress that godly, silky hair…

Almost instinctively his now-emptied arms moved to rest on the kitsune’s hips, and the momentum carried him onto the fox, breath hot against the shell of his ear—panting, of course, to portray the illusion he’d been running for blocks, not just a meter or two—and it took all of his self control to then ‘hastily’ place his palms on the rough sidewalk on either side of the former youko(Kurama’s front pressed flush against the concrete, at the moment, the kitsune’s own arms having instinctively gone up to protect his face when he fell forward) and push himself off, gasping a slightly breathless(for more than one reason, at least, so his ‘acting’ no doubt seemed perfect)—

“Sumimasen! Gomen nasai!” His heart all but stopped as those emerald depths peered curiously back at him, and he felt a nervous lump in his throat, trying to brush off the thought that he would be recognized(for that must be the reason for the anxiety)… and pulling his act further, to prevent that, then. The taller youth stood, quickly, curling his lips into a slightly subdued, apologetic smile as his safely-hidden gaze went at odds with his expression—eagerly devouring the redhead while he held out a hand, heart skipping another beat as the other’s more calloused one lifted into his own, the kitsune returning—returning!—his smile, pink plush lips parting and he was so perversely relieved and disappointed the fox could not see his all-but-innocent stare drop to those moving tiers from behind the dark sunglasses he wore, keeping the apologetic curve firmly where it was—as Kurama both did not react, and at the same moment he achingly missed the terror he loved evoking in those verdant hues…

“Ah, ieie, it’s all right…” The taller youth found the other’s voice offering a comment, himself too easily slipping into the role he was playing, to avoid arousing the kitsune’s suspicion, making that smile on his countenance turn a hint sheepish, the movement of his lips barely visible.

“Are you all right? I am afraid I was in a rush…” He reached, giving into his body’s urge for contact, brushing somewhat imagined dust off one of the fox’s shoulders, but not daring to aid him as Kurama patted the small bits of dirt and concrete off of his front. It was too close to— A melodic, soft laugh reached the air and he started a bit, gaze immediately drawn to the fox’s face where a slight smile could be found.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. But you should watch where you’re going, next time? If you’re in such a hurry, a taxicab might be the way to go, ne~?” The kitsune winked at him, scarlet tresses exquisitely framing the twinkling jade, and the detected playful note in his tone allowed the taller’s shoulders to relax from the tension they’d gathered, and a hesitant smile replaced the more apologetic one—most likely because he was now sound in his instantaneous assumption that Kurama did not, in fact, recognize him(and thus, all his plans would not go to waste by being killed on the spot). For perhaps the first time, he blessed that spoiled little teenage daughter of his ‘aunt’s for wanting to make him appear more ‘stylish’(by way of the sunglasses that had previously been hanging from his shirt), as he went about the family’s errands…

“Aa—gomen…” The kitsune—alluring as always—merely waved it off with another warm smile as he turned away, and the ebony-haired would-be teen couldn’t help but feel his lips twitch upward at the corners, even as Kurama could no longer see his expression.

“Be careful, now~!” The airy, teasing comment easily swirled about in the air, but all he could do was stand stock-still as he watched the fox stride away, the meaningless mob of humans seeming grey as that vibrant creature strolled away through them, the waving hand retreating casually back to a pocket.

Long after the kitsune was out of sight he continued to stand there, and ever-so-slowly a darker, more devious smirk tugged at his countenance. It caused an equally low chuckle to rumble up from his throat, and as he turned to head for the grocery where the limo would eventually be waiting for him, he tucked his chin down, ducking to hide the growing pleased grin snaking over his own pale features, the expression only partly hidden by the long tendrils of jet black that draped themselves around and over his face, as well as the high collar of his dark jacket.

Excellent. Seal one was affixed and already working—he could feel Kurama almost at his fingertips, a pulse of reiki telling him exactly where the fox was, how fast he was moving..

How excellent.

This new life certainly granted him a great deal more luck than his previous one had.

…Although.

He paused in his step, realization abruptly dawning for a moment—

What had that been, back there? His heart ‘racing’? What human foolishness was this? What strange malady would cause him to feel so nervous around the fox, when he’d done much worse(and much more) than merely pressing a seal onto him… perhaps the difference was that one of them need not die in the near future. At the Tournament, they’d been locked into the unfortunate stalemate of one of them needing to die, to assure a victory for their team—it was the Ankoku Buujutsukai. Any fight not ending in death was utterly boring, in the end, to the audience. At least in his opinion. He had not been lying when he told Kurama he would like to place him by his side, forever…

He sighed, lightly, the exhale drawn out quietly enough. True, the redhead was oh-so-tenacious and so full of warmth he practically radiated it—as seen in their run-in, not minutes ago. Who else would be so accommodating and cheerful, after being run into, like that? …Of course, it could merely be part of the mask he wore, as ‘Minamino Suuichi’.

At any rate, this was all irrelevant to his plans. The next focus would be to pick a time when he could affix the second seal—the seal enabling him to gain more ki by sapping a portion of Kurama’s—but with that first seal and its newly-added tracking device, he could afford to wait. Flippantly dismissing the rest of the errant musings from his mind, he resumed his quiet pace—intent on finding the grocer’s, and procuring ingredients for meals for the week ahead.

: : :

Continuing to make his way down the sidewalk, the kitsune lightly rubbed the back of his neck. There was an unpleasant tight feeling there, a tingle or some such thing. …Perhaps it was merely too much stress. Hiei had been gone for three months, already, and with exams looming…

He sighed, letting the hand drop from the back of his neck. He must stop thinking like that. Either the Jaganshi would return or he wouldn’t, but dwelling over the matter wouldn’t help anything.

Now. Shiori’s birthday was in a few weeks, and it would bequeath him to find the right present. Her boyfriend and his son would be joining them… he had to be sure to give her something special. Perhaps a plant… He took to this, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it, before. Spying a trendy little shop with various bowls in their window, a smile snuck over his lips, gently.

She did so like exotic, foreign things, his mother. Perhaps a small plant housed in a beautiful pot would brighten up the kitchen, living room, or the office where she worked as a secretary, just enough…

: : :

~Three Months Later (a.k.a the Same Day in Present Time)~

He stepped out from the train stop, jogging quickly over to a small cluster of bushes, glancing up towards the afternoon sky with a squint. The brunet then tipped his head to the side, trying to discern the time. When this told him nothing—he’d never really studied anything, after all—he blew out a gust of a sigh, slouching back against a tree trunk, fists slipping to the pockets of his jeans. He hadn’t bothered with the green uniform, today—chasing Hiei would only ruin the thing, and would get Keiko bitching at him, again. Not that she wouldn’t bitch at him for ditching school… He laughed to himself, at the thought. Heh. Yeah. Keiko. Always insisting he should try to ‘better himself’ by actually showing up to class and doing the work… The tantei shook his head. Can’t change a zebra’s stripes.

He took to busying himself in the best way he could—he slid down the trunk of the tree, folded his arms securely behind his head, and took a nap.

. . . . . . .

An hour or two later, he was aware of a prod-prodding going on somewhere in the vicinity of his head. Cracking open an eye in a sleep-induced, foggy glare, he blinked once, woodenly, before that particular shade of blue kicked in to identify.

“…oi. Botan!” The ferry girl beamed at him, holding out something in her palm.

“Hi, Yuusuke! Here’s the Spirit Compass. We fixed it and put in a lock of Hiei’s hair so you can find him, since he’s hiding his youki.” This was cheerfully announced, and already she was hopping back onto her oar after handing it over to him, feet floating a few centimeters above the ground with the movement. The detective blinked, then, casting sight towards the device in his hand—before a brow lofted, in curiosity. He cast a suspicious glance towards her, even as the blue-haired shinigami’s attention was on ‘calibrating’—he didn’t even know he knew that word!—her oar for a flight back to Reikai.

“—Hey! How’d you get a lock of Hiei’s hair, anyway?! You got some sort of stalker-fan-club thing going on?” Her attention drew back to him with a frown, and she lifted a hand, shaking a finger at him as her oar—and she along with it—began to rise, knees neatly pressed together to prevent any(perverted tantei, for example) and all bystanders from seeing up the skirt of her kimono.

“Of course not! Koenma-sama clipped off a piece while Hiei was in hibernation after using the Kokuryu-Ha in the finals of the Ankoku Buujustukai.” She smiled prettily as he gaped up at her, neck craning back as she continued to ascend towards the sky. He yelled the last comment, shaking a fist at her even as she disappeared into the sky with a barely-stifled, but very characteristic, giggle.

“…Oi! That’s messed-up, you know! Violation of personal boundaries and—“ He snorted as she went completely out of sight, slumping back onto the dirt and carefully snapping the wristwatch-look-alike onto his wrist. He depressed the side button, waiting for the circular screen to begin flashing. When it did, thankfully, it worked(unlike that last time, when it’d blown a fuse as he’d tried to use it to find Rando amidst all the other demons clamoring to be Genkai’s successor), its arrow swirling around on the dial before settling on one spot off to his left, blipping softly and at long intervals.

…long intervals. Crap. He let his groan be heard, aloud.

With his luck, Hiei had sensed him coming closer and was already working to hide himself—not that the damn Jaganshi needed any more polished hiding skills. Argh. Annoying.

Well, at least the Compass wouldn’t lie to him—as long as it was working(…and as long as Hiei didn’t try to manipulate it with his youki, like he had, way back when—eh. Maybe he himself was good enough to find him despite that, given their ‘friendship’, now…).

A grin passed onto his face, at that thought, and he raised the wrist bearing the device, bellowing to the rows of trees that constituted a large forest in front of him, the sound echoing over the dark canopies.

“Hiei! Ready or not, here I come~!”

~*~To Be Continued~*~