Changing Death
by Jesanae Tekani


Chapter 1:  Consequences

    Yusuke woke.

    It was two a.m., or thereabouts, and something didn’t feel right.  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, trying to make his sleep-fuzzed brain pinpoint the source of the feeling, and let his eyes adjust to the dimness of his room.

    The open window behind him showed a waning moon and a smattering of unusually bright stars, and insects thrummed invisibly in the grass below.  It was cool without being chill; he was quite comfortable after the initial shock of exposure.  His keen hearing detected no other sounds beyond those of the insects and his own breathing.  He listened again to make sure.

    Almost as a reflex, he checked for his friends’ youki.  Yukina’s was readily found—but other than that, he felt no other.

    Hiei’s ki, which had been present earlier in the night, was gone.

    After a moment of alarm, Yusuke relaxed.  ~He’s probably gone back to Makai.  I thought he might.  Though why that should wake me up at this ungodly hour, I have no idea.~

    Yawning hugely and ignoring his lingering unease, Yusuke crawled back into the nest of his bedcovers and dropped off to sleep.

    But that sleep didn’t last long.

    With the first dimming of the stars came a loud pounding on Yusuke’s front door, nearly at the same time.  The spirit detective tumbled from his bed, swearing, and attempted to disentangle his legs from the blanket.  “K’so!  What time is it?”

    “Urameshi!” bellowed Kuwabara’s voice from outside the apartment.  “Urameshi!  Let me in!  Something’s wrong!”

    The tone of that shout caught Yusuke’s attention; hurriedly extricating himself, he rushed in his pajamas to the door, fumbling the latch open and flinging the door wide.  Kuwabara (also still in his pajamas) nearly punched him, not realizing that there was nothing to knock on anymore, and Yusuke ducked swiftly to avoid the unintended blow.

    “What is it, Kuwabara?  Tell me already!”

    “I got a bad feeling, Urameshi!” the carrot-top shouted, apparently oblivious to the fact that Yusuke could hear him perfectly well.  “Really bad!  It woke me up about an hour ago, and then Koenma just appeared in my bedroom and told me to get you!”

    “Wait a minute—Koenma sent you?  This must be really bad!”

    “We’re supposed to meet at my house!  Come on!”

    Without further talk, the two of them dashed out of the apartment and down the street, leaving the door ajar, and keeping their feet with effort in the darkness before dawn.

    Koenma and Botan were already waiting with Yukina when the two boys arrived, panting from exertion and moaning about blistered feet; they wasted no time in conveying the message that whatever was going on, it was serious indeed.  Yukina looked frightened; Kuwabara gathered her up in a comforting hug.

    “All right, what’s going on?” Yusuke demanded.  “This had better be good!”

    “It’s not good, Yusuke,” Koenma replied, his face grave.  “In fact, it’s very bad.”

    “Well what is it?” the boy cried in frustration.  “You dragged us out of our beds in the middle of the night—”

    “Hiei is dead.”

* * *

    It was morning before Yusuke staggered through the still-open door of his apartment.  He felt nothing but numbness; had felt nothing for hours.  A sick feeling had settled in his gut and was refusing to be dislodged, and his coordination had deserted him, leaving him to stumble over objects and into furniture on the way back to his room.  His mother’s uproarious snores cut through the thin walls like a jackhammer, and he gave a purely physical wince at the raucous noise.

    Koenma’s words rolled unceasingly through his head:  multitudinous ramifications, myriad courses of action that they might take, a hundred and more things that they must now do.  With Hiei gone, the Reikai Tantei were at half strength at best, and the fire demon had been supposed to play a key role in their next assignment.

    So said Koenma.

    But behind that perpetual drone, Botan’s voice rang limpid and unforgettable, repeating over and over again the words that had thrown Yusuke into his dazed shock.

    ~I’m afraid, Yusuke, that Hiei took his own life . . .~

    His knees banged painfully against the edge of his bed; he didn’t recall reaching it.  He flopped down on the soft, inviting mattress, blessing his Western-style bed, while at the same time knowing that sleep would be hard-won and excruciating, if it came at all.

    ~Another of my friends gone.  It hasn’t even been three weeks since we lost Kurama.  I guess Hiei just couldn’t take it . . .  Kisama!  Why now?  Why in Ningenkai?  And why didn’t I see it coming?~

    It was that last that haunted him.  He’d known that Kurama had been Hiei’s closest friend—indeed, his intuition told him that it might even have been beyond friendship.  He’d known that, and he’d known how little Hiei thought of himself, and he still hadn’t even guessed at how deep the pain of losing Kurama had truly run.  Somehow he’d thought the Jaganshi would pull through as stoically as he had always seemed to weather agony.

    Now it seemed preternaturally clear, and Yusuke cursed himself a thousand times over for a fool.

    A thump sounded from the other room, and the snoring broke off with an odd hiccup.  In a moment rustling and unsteady footsteps followed, and he heard his mother enter the kitchen, mumbling sleepily to herself as she sought out sustenance.

    ~Or booze.  Ah, gods, I hate my life.  I hate it.  And I feel like all of this is my fault.~

    He surrendered the notion of sleep, and rose wearily to get dressed for the day.

     If he’d been a touch more sensitive, or perhaps if he had been paying better attention, he would have felt the briefest flash of a familiar youki before it flitted back into nonexistence.

* * *

    Hiei perched motionless on a chair in Koenma’s office, unblinking as a statue and calm as a glacier.  The infant sat behind his desk and did his best to imitate the youkai’s own patented glower while he shuffled through various papers on the hopelessly cluttered surface.  Botan was not present this time, being busy helping Yusuke prepare for the next mission, and her absence left a hole in the air that all but absorbed sound.

    “That,” Koenma began, “was a very irresponsible thing to do, Hiei.”  He paused, perhaps waiting for his words to have an impact, but the Jaganshi didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.  A tiny anger vein began to pulse on the ruler’s temple.  “The Reikai Tantei can’t function without you at present, and my hands are all but tied.  Because of the nature of your death, Reikai law forbids me from giving you a second chance.”

    Still he elicited no response; but he thought he saw the ghost of a smirk touch Hiei’s lips.

    The miniature hands slammed down on the desk in pure frustration.  “Dammit, Hiei, what sort of effect did you think a thing like this was going to have?  Or did you even think that far ahead?”

    For the first time, Hiei spoke, his words as crisply succinct as ever.  “You are a fool, Koenma.  Your Reikai Tantei has no need of me, and you doubtless have replacement candidates in mind.  I am unwanted, unwelcome, and useless.”

    “No, you’re not!  You were never any of those things!  Every person you knew back on Ningenkai is mourning you right now!”

    Hiei let out a short, barking, humorless laugh.  “Then they are fools as well.”

    “What does it take to get you to understand?”  Koenma was coming close to bruising his fists on the desktop.  “Your selfishness is going to get them killed!”

    “I don’t care.”

    Something in that statement stopped Koenma cold; something unspoken, and unimaginably painful.  Until that moment, in all the cases he had ever reviewed, he had never encountered anything like it before.

    “You—you can’t mean that!” he stammered, fully aware that Hiei had never meant anything as surely.  The baby ruler was panicked now—his only hope had lain in convincing the fire demon to return to life, and rules be damned.  Now, knowing that he could never succeed, he had no contingency left to him.  “All three worlds depend on you!  I’m willing to break every rule in the book to give you your life back, because we need you alive!”

    Hiei looked bored, though more pain flashed in his expression.  “I’m tired of being lied to, infant.  Send me to oblivion for all I care, but if you try to force me to return to life, I will kill you in an instant.”  His strange red eyes burned into Koenma’s own.

    “Kurama would have gone back.”

    Koenma knew in a second that it was the worst thing that could ever have passed his lips.  Hiei recoiled as if he’d been stabbed, those eyes overflowing with hurt, guilt and worse—but an instant later it was all driven out by an unholy rage that spilled glittering from the irises to set alight his entire face.  A strong smoky tang invaded the air as Hiei snarled, “You will never again speak his name, Koenma!  You are beneath him, and you sent him off to die!  And it was for love of fools like you that he went willingly to his death!”

    He had risen from his chair in a flash of movement to grab a shocked Koenma by the scruff of the neck, and smoke formed a smoldering haze around him.  What he said next, Koenma would never forget.

    “No one, not even I, is more evil than you.”

    The toddler hung absolutely motionless in the air, certain that Hiei could silence him before he could even cry out.  His emergency button was just that much within reach, but he didn’t even consider going for it.  He could do nothing but wait, and hope.

    He wasn’t sure which surprised him more:  that Hiei set him down, or the fact that he was almost gentle about it.

    Koenma hit the button without looking at it, never breaking eye contact with the Jaganshi.  As a small army of oni burst in to surround the unresisting youkai, he collected himself enough to speak.  “You may be right about that, Hiei, but you’re wrong about one thing.”

    “And what’s that?” inquired Hiei in a conversational tone that rattled Koenma more than his previous rage.

    “Kurama isn’t dead.”

Chapter 2:  A Godling’s Game


    “So are you gonna tell us what this mission is about?”

    Koenma’s eye began to twitch at the snide, so Yusuke-like question, and Yusuke almost smirked.  That smirk might have given him away, though, so he suppressed it.  There were too many people watching, and showing his feelings in front of Yukina, of all of them, would not have been his first choice.  She had enough to deal with after her brother’s death; he felt obligated to put on a cheerful front for her.

    “Don’t get smart with me, Yusuke.  I’ve had a very bad day.”  The tiny god hrmphed and made a visible attempt at looking less cross.  He failed, but Yusuke deemed it prudent not to point that out.  “I’m reluctant to even send you on this assignment without Hiei, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.  You’ll have to go to Makai for this, so get things straight in Ningenkai first.”

    There was a maddening pause; Yusuke glanced at Kuwabara, who was practically steaming from the ears, torn as he was between yelling at Koenma and not offending Yukina.  Yusuke sympathized.  He was about to break into the silence himself with another aggravating demand, but Botan beat him to it.

    She flipped her hair from her eyes with a practiced toss of her head and swooped a bit closer to Yusuke on her oar.  “It involves the koorime, which is why Yukina has been temporarily drafted to help, and it’s very dangerous.  They have somehow obtained a very—volatile magical item, and your job is to recover it, undamaged, and return it to Reikai.”

    Koenma nodded his agreement with her words.  “Hiei was vital, I’m afraid.  He was to act as both spy and diversion, and without his help this mission is almost impossible.  You’re going to have a lot more trouble now than you would otherwise.”

    They both seemed to be done talking for the moment.  Yusuke swallowed the grief and anger that had risen at their casual mention of Hiei, and was again about to say something—and was interrupted before he had completed a syllable, this time by his former rival.  He glared death, but no one paid attention.

    “So what does this magic doohickey look like?”  Kuwabara was unusually gruff and clipped in his speech, and Yusuke felt a second pang of empathy.  Kuwabara’s relationship to Hiei had been much the same as his initial one with Yusuke himself, and in time it might have progressed to the friendship the two boys now shared.  ~So many opportunities down the drain.~

    He was so involved in his momentary fatalistic thoughts that he missed Koenma’s answer to the question, and jerked himself back to the present with a spaced-out “What?”

    “I said, that’s one of the things I can’t tell you.  Just describing it could cause catastrophic repercussions, and put all three worlds in danger.  You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”

    “Wonderful,” Yusuke said sarcastically, finally managing to get the first word in.  “So we have to go spy on people who probably know that we—were—friends with the person they hate most, and then take an extremely dangerous something away from them without knowing what it is.  And, if we screw up, naturally all three worlds get plunged into chaos.  Just lovely.”

    Botan gave him a scandalized glare as Koenma made a sharp, exasperated noise somewhat resembling a snort.  He shook his head.  “I’ve already said I don’t have a choice.  You are the only ones who even have a chance of pulling this off without major casualties, so you’re appointed, Hiei or no Hiei.  Now go get ready.”

    With this clear dismissal, the toddler turned his attention back to the haphazard mess of papers on his desk, and Botan floated over to usher them out of the room.

    As they exited, they were almost flattened by George, who ran right past them and into Koenma’s office.  Though this was hardly an unusual occurrence, something like a curious compulsion prompted Yusuke to hang back from his departing group, straining his ears to hear what was being said.

    “What now?”

    “You told me to report in every hour on the prisoner, sir.”

    “Oh, that’s right.  Any change?”

    “No, sir.  He hasn’t stopped laughing since we locked him up, and we’re trying to figure out a safe way to get in and clear away all those little black jewels he keeps shedding.  The floor’s nearly an inch thick with them.”

    “Do the best you can.  Right now, I don’t know if we can even hope to—”

    “Yusuke, are you coming or not?”  The sprightly attendant of souls startled him into a yelp, and he hurried to catch up with the others, thinking hard about what he had heard.

    ~Little black jewels . . .~

* * *

    In Ningenkai, a figure crouched on the branch of a very old tree, sniffing the lingering scent that remained there.  The faint musk made his eyes mist with nostalgic longing.  He gazed sadly into the window of a familiar room, taking in things already committed to heart and memory and reinforcing them.

    He wasn’t supposed to be here.  He could jeopardize the worlds if he failed to mask his ki completely, or if he was missed where he was supposed to be—but, gods, he needed this.  It wasn’t the first time he had slipped out of Makai to visit this place; it was all that kept him going some days.

    He missed his friends, his family.  He did not know how they fared.  He didn’t dare get close enough to observe them directly, and searching for ki would reveal his own.  His heart harbored a fervent wish that they were well, and he hoped they understood why he had to be away.

    Koenma would have explained.  Of course he had.

    A sound within alerted him, and with a last mournful glance, the figure withdrew, and fled swiftly for the Makai gate.

* * *

    Kuwabara had always found Makai creepy.  There was way too much to feel here, and none of it was especially friendly.  But with Yukina at his side, he stalwartly refused to let even a hint of his discomfort slip.  He had to be strong for her.

    He heard a rattle, and started nervously before realizing that it was just the silk pouch Yukina had begun to keep with her to hold her tear gems.  She had been crying a lot lately; Kuwabara was suffering from feelings of helplessness and inadequacy because of his inability to help her work through her brother’s death.

    He shuddered.  He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept of never seeing Hiei again.  The cruel three-eyed demon had become one of those permanent, annoying fixtures in Kuwabara’s life—to be suffered when he was present and to be made fun of when he wasn’t.  As much as Kuwabara disliked the Jaganshi’s company, he found that it was painful, to know that he was gone forever.

    ~Every time I say anything, I keep expecting that shrimp to insult me or something,~ he thought.  ~It’s weird to be on a mission without him.~

    And to know that Hiei had committed suicide—that was the one thing the carrot-haired sensitive would never have expected.

    “Hey, earth to Kuwabara!  What are you staring at?”

    “Huh?” Kuwabara replied intelligently, before his brain kicked in with a belated retort.  “Nothing, Urameshi!  I’m just keeping a lookout for monsters, that’s all!”

    Yusuke snickered.  “Yeah, I’m sure there are lots of monsters in Yukina’s cleavage.”

    Kuwabara’s blush added beets to his ensemble of vegetable colors.  “Shut up, Urameshi!  I wasn’t—I mean—just shut up!”

    Yukina looked from Yusuke to Kuwabara and back, confused, but evidently decided not to ask.

    Then Yusuke’s smirk vanished, and he pointed forward.  “Heads up, guys.  Koorime territory, dead ahead.”

* * *

    It hurt.  It all hurt.  The laughter, the tears, the rasp of breath into lungs that no longer had need of it—all of it hurt.  But he couldn’t stop it, not any of it.

    It was just so funny.

    ~And I called Koenma a fool.  No one was ever as much of a fool as I.  I finally mustered the courage to end a life I hated, and now I find out that my rationale doesn’t exist.  That the one thing I was looking forward to isn’t here.  He isn’t here.  He isn’t even dead.~

    Hiei put a hand to his face, blocking out the light and feeling the hard pellets of his tear gems bounce off the skin.  It was strange; that he still had skin.  It was the same texture and temperature as his body’s had been, and it could still feel pain and react to stimuli.  In truth, except for the absence of hunger and fatigue, he felt no different now than he had in life.

    ~Hn.  I guess suicide is overrated.~

    That thought only caused the laughter to intensify, and he curled up in one corner of his cell, gems forming a glittering black pool beneath his face.

    He took a moment, just one, to wonder when the tears stopped being tears, and became as hard and cold as his soul.

    And he laughed.

Chapter 3:  When You Were Free


    An errant wind sprite puffed unexpectedly, sending a nearby dust devil into a rage.  The two battled with fury, their miniature war carrying them into the path of the lone figure that crouched in the open, arid plain.  Silver hair, dulled with dust, rose up to dance with the opposing forces, as if seeking to placate them while still at the mercy of their whims; and they died down, their energy spent, leaving a quiet, dead calm in their wake.

    A slender, almost feminine hand rose to tuck back the disheveled tresses, and golden eyes blinked away lingering grit.  It was noon.  The orange sun had settled into a steady beat, now nearly unnoticed, so long had he been under its baleful eye.

    ~Perhaps today . . .~

    Kurama had spent much of the day here on the plain.  Hardly any life was to be seen; only sparse trees in the distance, and the occasional shrub dotting the dusty landscape.  He privately thought that the guard duty he had been set was rather pointless—he had yet to see anything more dangerous than a raven—but he had no intentions of allowing his masters to know that.

    As if that thought had been a silent summons, he felt youki approaching and quickly stood to attention, his posture more alert and his ears pricked forward.  By the time the lumbering form trundled into view, he was the very picture of attentiveness.

    The demon’s name was Gendou, and he and his partner Donari lived in this most deserted corner of Makai.  He was a huge, lumpy sort of demon, with a pale mustard-colored hide, enormous claws and jutting tusks that skewed his otherwise humanoid face out of proportion.

    “Well, youko,” he said, “get inside.  You’ve some work to do for Donari.”

    Kurama acquiesced with a liquid gesture of deference, cringing inwardly at Donari’s summons.  She was the older of the two, and had a certain streak of sadism that Gendou did not share.  Hunting and guarding were the least of what he was expected to do, and both suppressing his true power and maintaining his facade of youko indifference were wearing on him.

    As he ran swiftly back to the demons’ residence, he made a mental calculation of how many days he’d been here.  It was a dismayingly large number—over three weeks, and he’d still found out nothing worth reporting.  He would have to tell Koenma something soon, but he was coming up dry.

    ~Perhaps today . . .~

    The strange dwelling rose up above the crest of the hill, fully as off-color and lumpish as Gendou.  To Kurama’s relief, Donari was not standing in the doorway waiting; he’d come to recognize that as the worst kind of trouble, as it usually meant she was in a foul mood and looking for someone on whom to take it out.  He wondered, a shade cynically, what she had used for a scapegoat before he’d shown up on her doorstep, in the guise of a whining, pathetically weak youko looking for work.

    Pausing a moment to collect himself, he opened the door and flowed inside, utilizing all of the grace this form imparted.  “Mistress Donari-sama?” he said softly.  “You called for me?”

    It was dim inside, enough so that had he been in his human form he might have had to squint to see the slender figure poised on the plush chair in the back of the main room.  The inside of the house was as elegant as its outside was not, and in no small part thanks to Donari’s influence over her cohort.  Though not overly large, the room was well-appointed, with narrow, dark furniture artfully arranged along its irregular walls, and an enormous armchair in the corner to accommodate Gendou’s larger size.

    Unlike Gendou, Donari was nearly human-looking and quite beautiful, with long sea-green hair and luminous gray eyes that most ningens, male or female, would kill to possess.  Kurama knew she had another form, a demon form, but she was a vain thing and preferred this almost-human visage for everyday use.

    “Youko,” she purred, rising and stalking over to meet him.  “Good of you to come so promptly.”

    “I wait on your pleasure as always, Mistress,” he replied, bowing low.

    She heard the note of apprehension he let seep into his voice and laughed a tinkling laugh.  “Don’t worry, my dear fox, I’m not angry with you.  I want you to brush my hair.”

    Kurama relaxed.  This was something far less unpleasant than he had anticipated, and he allowed a small smile to glide across his face.  “As you command, Mistress Donari-sama.”  He accepted the brush she indicated and waited until she had assumed a comfortable recline before applying it to her tresses.

    As was her wont, she spoke to him as he worked.

    “You’ve been a very good slave, youko.  Did you know that?”

    “No, Mistress,” Kurama said, meaning it; he’d been wondering if his ruse was working at all.

    “Always so modest.  I like that.  I don’t think I’ve ever had a slave as obedient as you—or so pretty.”  He could hear her sultry smile, though she faced away from him.  “I marvel that your ningen employers had so little sense as to let you go.”

    “Donari-sama is very kind.”

    Donari was silent for a moment, and he realized he had slipped up, falling into the bland, over-polite mode of speech he used on the ningen schoolgirls at home.  He attempted to redeem himself by adding, this time in a warm, almost loving tone, “I feel no regret.  After all, what is their company to yours?”

    To his relief, she accepted the placation with a giggle.  “Flatterer.  I’m in an especially good mood today; perhaps you and I shall go hunting.  Would you like that?”

    “Yes, Mistress, I would enjoy that very much.”

    “Good.  We shall certainly need something to do; that fool Gendou is leaving for a time, and as annoying as his prattle is, it does fill the hours.”

    Kurama was struck with curiosity.  ~Could this be . . .~  “Where is he going, Donari-sama?”

    “Oh,” she said flippantly, “he’s caught wind that that group of ningens that have extraordinary reiki are in the Makai.  They’re supposed to have defeated the strongest among us.  Rubbish, if you ask me; it’s probably some low-level youkai’s idea of a joke.  In any case, our spies have told him that they’re nearby, and so he’s going to sharpen his claws on them.”  She gave another throaty chuckle.  “He’s so easily amused.  As if ningens could truly present any kind of challenge.  I don’t know why I suffer him—he’s all muscle and no conversational skills.”

    Kurama nearly froze, his arms moving automatically in the motions of brushing Donari’s hair.  ~That has to be the Tantei.  He’s going after the Tantei!~  His head spun, and he felt an overwhelming fear in the pit of his stomach.  ~What are they doing here in Makai?  Koenma can’t have sent them on a mission—he knows how dangerous Gendou and Donari are!  What could he be thinking?~

    Their casual banter lasted for more than half an hour past that point, but Kurama honestly couldn’t recall a thing he said afterward.

* * *

    “Hn.  Stupid ningen females.”

    The height of the tree in which Hiei perched afforded him a prime view of the proceedings below him, which he observed with an odd mixture of fascination, amusement and disgust.  It was early afternoon, and the ningen school Kurama attended had just dismissed for the day; students boiled out of the building, milling about like homeless ants and chattering in a grating, cacaphonic buzz.  Groups formed and detached from the main amoebic mass—girls going shopping, boys collecting in gangs, dating couples and hopeful groupies.

    It was the latter that Hiei was watching, the largest group by far.  A drove of female students were drifting en masse down the pavement at an obscenely slow pace, coordinating themselves like a school of fish so that each had a clear line of sight to the crimson-haired object of their lust.

    Kurama, to all outward observers, was enjoying their attention immensely, but Hiei could feel his ki snapping with annoyance and smirked from his hiding place among the leaves of the ash tree.  ~It’s just what he deserves for insisting on those polite ningen mannerisms.  If he’d just tell them to go away, and maybe maim one or two, they would no longer be a problem.~  He smiled at the thought of scattering the ningens like so many quail, but Kurama would be even further annoyed, so he quelled the urge to help whether the baka liked it or not and merely looked on.  ~Though I can’t imagine why he made me promise to stay out of it.  I’d take care of them, and he wouldn’t have to sacrifice his pathetic protocol in the least.  I don’t understand his urge to be humiliated daily.~

    As he had mulled over this puzzle before and always come up equally dry, he shrugged one shoulder in an unconscious gesture of surrender and waited.  It would be over soon enough; Kurama would fabricate some imaginary task to attend to, and the crowd would dissipate with a collective sigh.  Hiei had long since likened this event to water evaporating from a stone, an almost playful comparison that caused him no end of amusement; he had yet to see another ningen activity that so closely resembled a natural phenomenon.

    It occurred even as he thought on it.  Kurama remained still and politely smiling until the dispersion was complete, heaved his own sigh, and then looked straight up at the tree.  “You can come down now, you know.”

    Hiei started; he had apparently let his ki slip a little.  With a grumble, he hopped swiftly to the ground, seeming to ningen eyes to appear beside the redhead, and covered his mistake with a jibe.  “Well, my darling Shuiichi-kun, how are you today?”

    Kurama groaned.  “Hiei, please.  I’ve had quite enough of that for today.”

    “You’ve had quite enough of that for a lifetime,” Hiei pointed out, hoping to rekindle the familiar argument.  “You don’t have to put up with it.”

    Kurama did not oblige him; leveling a tired eye on his companion, he deliberately changed the subject.  “Have you seen Yusuke today?”

    “Why would I follow that fool?  All he does is get into fights and simper over that girlfriend of his.”

    “And my school day is infinitely more interesting?”

    Suspicion raised warning flags that kept Hiei’s response clipped and careful.  “I find it amusing to watch you swim through the vat of ningen girls every day.  That’s the only reason I come.”

    “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep doing it, then,” Kurama smiled, “or I’ll have no one to walk home with anymore.”

    The Jaganshi rolled his eyes in disgust to mask the annoyance he felt at having his cautiously chosen words neatly turned on him, and did not respond.

    Kurama was used to filling the silence and continued on without pause, knowing instinctively that Hiei would have no answer to his comment.  “I’m supposed to meet Yusuke and Kuwabara at the coffee shop—would you like to come along?”  His smile was warm, and still sparkled with a trace of youko mischief.  Hiei made a noncommittal “Hn” and nodded ever so slightly; he liked those meetings, though Kurama would have had to drag him over coals to make him admit it.  “Good then.  We’ve a bit of time to kill before then, so let’s take a walk in the park.”

    Hiei wondered how Kurama could possibly be in such a good mood after the latest siege of adoring females, but didn’t bother asking about it.  Once the kitsune had turned down an argument, he was quite deft at pretending, for the day at least, that the topic did not exist.

    ~Fine.  If he wants to go to the park and watch old ningen ladies walk dogs when he’s in a good mood, that’s his business.~

    “No thanks,” he said aloud, halting and turning to the left a trifle, preparing to head off on his own.  “I’ll meet you at the coffee shop.”

    Kurama looked disappointed for a brief flash, then smiled and shrugged; Hiei experienced a twinge of what might have been guilt.  “Suit yourself,” the fox said.  “Be there at three.”

    ~Hn,~ speculated Hiei as he gave a nod and flitted off into the trees.  ~If I go early, he won’t be there to talk me out of killing the oaf.~

    With that bright spot to add to his day, he oriented himself towards the shop and jumped to the next tree, thoughts of the brief encounter already filed neatly away in the back of his mind to leave room for other things.

* * *

    Scarcely an hour had passed, and Kurama was still running.  His breath was short and his heart thudded in his pointed youko ears, but he dared not even slow enough to cover his tracks, nor to do more than watch where he was going.  All thoughts of masking his ki were forgotten; instead, he drew on it to augment his speed.

    He had to get to Reikai.  Only Koenma might be able to tell him where the others were, and it was essential that he reach them.  If they were indeed on a mission, an unexpected attack from such a powerful source could be calamitous.

    He reached into his clothing and brought out the communication mirror given him by Botan before his mission.  He flipped it open.  “Botan, do you copy?”

    Her miniaturized face appeared in the small circle.  “What’s up, Yus—oh!  Kurama!  What’s going on?  Have you found anything?”

    “No time,” he panted.  “I’ve had to abort this mission.  Open the gate to Reikai and I’ll explain there.”

    Responding to the urgency in his voice, Botan complied rapidly and without asking questions, and in due course he was ushered into Koenma’s office.  Koenma, busy with something as always, looked up in surprise and blinked owlishly at this intruder into his domicile.

    “Kurama!  What are you doing back?”

    Kurama reverted to his human form, exhausted, and demanded, “Where did you send the Tantei?”

    Koenma glared.  “Do you always answer a question with another question?”

    “This is important!”  Kurama came near to losing his temper, and fought not to slam his hands down on the paper-strewn desk.  “Gendou is going after them!”

    That got Koenma’s undivided attention.  “What?  Why?”

    “Curiosity,” replied the kitsune wearily.  “Their spies reported that the Tantei were in Makai, and he wants to see if they’re as good as rumor holds.  Why did you send them on a case now?”

    “I didn’t have any other options.  The koorime have gotten ahold of something very dangerous, and I need to get it back now before they figure out what it does.”

    There was a bit of a pause.  “My assignment has failed, I fear.”

    “You did the right thing coming to me with this.  I can handle it from—”

    “The Tantei are in koorime territory, yes?”  Kurama did not wait for an answer; something in his gut told him that it was even more urgent than he had thought.  “Good.  I know the area.”  He spun on his heel and strode toward the office entryway.  “I’m going to warn them and back them up.  I’ll report in when I’ve made contact.”

    “Wait!  You don’t know—”

    But Kurama was already out the door.
Chapter 4:  Musings


    Koenma was beyond agitated.  In fact, George believed he’d progressed into hysterical some time ago.  In his teenaged form, he paced rapidly around his office, yelling and flailing his arms like a demented monkey without seeming to pause for breath between panicked shouts.  Though he didn’t get half of what was being said due to the volume of his ruler’s speech, the implications Koenma claimed for this new situation made the oni shudder.

    “WHAT IN THE THREE WORLDS AM I GOING TO DO NOW?!?  HE’S GOING TO FIND OUT ABOUT EVERYTHING AND THEN HE’LL NEVER TRUST ME AGAIN, AND EVERYTHING WILL GO TO HELL!  DO YOU HEAR ME, GEORGE?!  HELL!!”

    “Y-yes, sir, I heard you, but—”

    “WHY COULDN’T KURAMA HAVE STAYED WITH DONARI FOR JUST ANOTHER FEW DAYS?!!  NOW THAT’S BOTCHED AND THEY’LL BE AFTER REIKAI NEXT, AND MY FATHER WILL KILL ME, AND EVERYTHING WILL GO TO HELL!  DO YOU HEAR ME, GEORGE?!?!?!  HELL!!!!”

    George didn’t even bother trying to respond again, and began edging towards the doorway, snagging a stack of papers so he would look too busy to stay.  “Um, sir?  I—”

    “WHAT IS IT, GEORGE?” Koenma yelled at him, interrupting his pacing to advance menacingly on the vacillating flunky.

    “I’m-going-to-go-get-these-taken-care-of-sir-they-can’t-wait-anymore-sir-I’m-so-sorry-sir!!” George blurted, fleeing into the relative refuge of the hallway.  Pausing to catch his breath, he wondered if it would ever be safe to go back in again.  Dropping the papers on the nearest desk, he bolted for the cell bloc to perform his only real current duty—checking on Hiei.

    With any luck, he could get away with spending the next few hours there, under the pretext of waiting for a change.  Even with the imprisoned youkai laughing as he was, anywhere was bound to be quieter than Koenma’s office.

    ~I hope everything doesn’t really go to hell,~ he thought fervently.  ~He’ll probably blame it on me . . .~

* * *

    It was colder than Yusuke remembered it being the last time he had been here.  It always seemed like that, so he ignored it and concentrated on moving about to keep warm.  Kuwabara was to his left, busily not admitting how uncomfortable he was, and Yukina was naturally right at home.

    ~I must really be out of it—I’m making mental puns.  This is her home, dummy.~

    They had been walking in the icelands for a length of time that was probably much shorter than it seemed, and the two boys were seriously regretting their lack of winter coats.  The calf-deep snow sucked at Yusuke’s shoes and soaked his toes within minutes; they went numb in short order, but he had a plethora of other physical complaints to choose from, so at least he didn’t have to add boredom to the list.  That was an improvement over most long walks with Kuwabara.

    There had, oddly enough, been no wildlife up until this point.  Now he saw the occasional songbird, and a rare glimpse of what looked like a snow fox.  Spotting that, he couldn’t help but think that Kurama, in his youko form, would be perfectly suited to this place; he could blend right into the snow, and only his golden eyes would give the clue as to his position.  This speculation caused him to become angry with his brain and its masochistic thought patterns, and began a rather interesting mental argument that lasted him another fifteen minutes.

    “Are you sure you know where we’re going?” he finally asked of Yukina, not for the first time.

    She glanced back at him, startled at the sudden noise through the quiet.  “Oh, certainly.  We’ll be there soon, I promise.”  She saw his blue extremities and gave him a brief look of sympathy which she quickly transferred to Kuwabara.  “I’m sorry this is so hard for you.”  The koorime touched his shoulder gently.

    The carrot-top’s blush forced normal color back into his face.  “Aw, heh, it’s not that bad,” he disclaimed, rubbing the back of his head.  Yusuke rolled his eyes, which went unnoticed.

     “What are the koorime elders like?” he asked in an effort ward off any effusive gushing on Kuwabara’s part.  After a trip this long, he was in no mood to listen to it.

    Her face fell a little.  “They’re very strict, and can be hard to convince of anything.  I’m not sure we can persuade them to give up the item we need—once they know it’s important, they may refuse to part with it.”

    The detective muttered something caustic and reached up to scratch his head.  “That’s just it.  I’m not sure we should tell them it’s important at all—I don’t know what we should tell them, but if we just lay it all for them, we’ll never get anywhere.  We may never even figure out what the item is.”

    “We’re not going to lie, surely,” Yukina said, a line appearing between her eyebrows.  “That wouldn’t be right.”

    “Well—” he hedged.

    “No, no, of course not!” Kuwabara jumped in, glaring at Yusuke.  “We wouldn’t lie to your elders, would we, Urameshi?”  His voice was as full of belligerent challenge as ever.

    Yusuke sighed heavily.  “No, we won’t lie.  We just might not tell them everything.”

    Though Yukina still looked troubled, she didn’t object, and Yusuke let loose a covert sigh of relief.  ~I was hoping she’d go along.  This makes my job so much easier.~  He considered hard.  ~But what should we tell them?  And should it even be “we”?  We might end up having to send Yukina in alone, if I can get Kuwabara to let her.  The koorime probably know we were teamed up with Hiei—hell, the entire Makai knows about the Tantei, unless they’re too low-level to care.  That’ll make these elders suspicious right off.  And if we confront them about it, Yukina’s gonna find out that Hiei was her brother, and there’s no way in hell I wanna deal with that.  So—what should I do?~

    The answer came to him in the form of a memory—from the Dark Tournament, no less.

    ~”I hope you have more extensive plans.”~

    ~”Oh, come on, it’s Yusuke here!  I don’t have a clue!”~

    ~”You might not be so proud after you’re defeated.”~

    ~”Shut up.  Something always comes to me at the end.”~

    ~”Well, yes, even a fool has to admit a certain truth to that, Yusuke . . .”~

    Yusuke grinned openly at the recollection of the conversation between himself and Hiei, which had taken place during his fight with the wind master Jin in the Dark Tournament.  He abruptly missed the pointy-eared Scottish demon he had so briefly befriended; if he needed anything right now, it was the easy humor the two opponents had shared.  But his own remembered words reassured him then as little else could have.

    ~Okay, so I don’t have a plan.  I’ll just figure it out when I get there.  In the meantime . . .~

    Settling again in the steady pace of walking, Yusuke smirked wickedly and began to think up all the ways involving snow and tree branches that he could best terrorize Kuwabara.  After all, if he had to be miserable, he might as well have some fun with it.

* * *

    Hiei shifted his legs to ease the discomfort of the bark burrowing into his back, consequently inflicting a minor scrape on his thigh, the which he ignored completely.  It wouldn’t take long to scab over, and he never even noticed these tiny abrasions any longer.  He hadn’t much room for physical pain in his thoughts in any case; he had just been to visit Yukina.

    It had been an unplanned, unofficial, and therefore secret visit:  he had watched her from the cover of the parkside trees as she met with the oaf, and followed them as they strolled, watching the sunset.  As always, he marveled at how happy she looked, and at the pleasure it brought him to see that—of everything else in his life, only watching Kurama through his window rivaled this feeling of contentment.  It was almost worth the pain that came with it.

    Pain was very like pleasure, he reflected.  The one invariably contained a ghost of the other—though he smiled sardonically at the thought that his basis for comparison was rather diminutive.  Real pleasure had, thus far, proved as elusive as death, and he no longer knew himself which he craved more.  Probably death; pleasure, he wouldn’t trust.

    The wind picked up, shrieking in agony through the boughs of his tree, and he shook his head, clearing it of the pointless train of thought, and pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders to ward off the chill.  Even in summer, the nights could make him shiver.  It must have been nearing two, though he couldn’t see the moon through the bescreening canopy; the air was damp and smelt of the storm to come, the subtler scents of animal life and the exhaust of ningen vehicles overlaying it with a bitter tang.  Even at this hour the odd window light could be spotted from his vantage, and a pair of owls voiced their pleasure at the cool night.  It was so different from the Makai, where the wildlife was scarce during daylight hours and utterly silent after dark; each rustle was more likely to be a danger to life and limb than the sleepy raccoon family Hiei heard in the bushes below his tree.

    Or, it might be more accurately said, Kurama’s tree.

    He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time here on this particular branch, the leaves both hiding him effectively and letting him spy on his best friend with careless impunity.  It irked him on occasion that he had nothing better to do, but he grudgingly admitted to himself that he found it soothing to watch Kurama go through the motions of ningen normalcy.  Ningen customs were often boring, sometimes funny (most notably in the case of mating rituals), and even, rarely, horrifyingly alien—but they were all worth watching in some bizarre way, and he had spent many idle hours trying to fathom the mindset behind such strange practices.

    The temperature fell minutely, the damp smell becoming more pronounced.  Hiei grimaced in annoyance—the rain was about to start.  ~It never rains half this much in the Makai.  How do ningens stand all this water?~  He considered shrugging into the thicker parts of the tree, but he would still get more than a little wet, so he decided to avoid it by taking immediate shelter.

    This, of course, meant prevailing upon Kurama; if Hiei went anywhere else he would never avoid a soaking.  Though his pride rankled, he had no one else he would want to stay with in the Ningenkai anyway, and his dignity would be further damaged if he were to be seen with his hair and clothing plastered to him by rain.  ~It won’t be the first time,~ he thought, almost fondly.  ~That baka is too hospitable for his own good.~

    As the first wet vanguard began to strike the foliage, he hopped swiftly from branch directly to windowledge; the sill would shortly become slick, so he needed to get inside quickly.  It was dark in Kurama’s room and the redhead was likely asleep.  He tapped lightly on the window, and the pitch of the rattle told him it was not latched, so he pushed it cautiously open and slipped inside as soon as the opening had grown wide enough to admit him.  Silent as the shadow he emulated, he shut the window behind him and padded across the floor.

    And he stopped short.  Kurama was not, as he had anticipated, in his bed.  Rather, he was sprawled over his desk, a mess of papers pillowing his cheek.  His neck was bent at an angle that would doubtlessly cause him pain in the morning; a pencil lay lax in his hand, and his hair spilled in an unruly mass over one shoulder and onto the desk.

    Hiei was vaguely surprised to find the comfort-loving kitsune in such a state.  ~Hn.  Must really have been tired.~  He studied Kurama’s position for a time, noting that it was not one particularly conducive to normal sleep; and after a moment he was decided.

    His hand reached up and lifted his headband to partially expose the Jagan, and used its power to deepen his fox’s slumber a bit, ensuring that he would not wake.  Then he hoisted the redhead in his arms and took a single leap over to the bed.

    Here he stalled, unsure of how to go about it, but eventually elected to toss the covers back and put Kurama to bed fully clothed, laying the blankets loosely over him and allowing himself a slight, secret smile at his actions and Kurama’s gentle snores.

    Now he looked out the window, where a driving rain was in the process of drenching everything quite thoroughly and with a vengeance he had seldom seen in ningen weather.  Though it rained more often, it was usually gentler than the storms of the Makai.  Hiei found it a familiar, comforting white noise, and as he was tired himself, he selected his favorite corner and curled up in a comfortable ball.

    Feeling sleep take hold immediately, he gave a wry, internal chuckle as he heard in his mind what Kurama would say to him in the morning.  He even knew what his response would be.

    ~”Ne, Hiei, did you put me to bed last night?”~

    ~“Hn.”~

* * *

    Something nagged at Kuwabara’s subconscious; an oddly familiar feeling, but he couldn’t quite place it.  It was just barely there, too persistent to be a hallucination, but not strong enough to identify.

    “Oi, Urameshi?” he said.

    “What?”  Yusuke jumped, looking guilty for some reason and hiding one hand behind his back.  Suspicion rose, pushing the funny feeling into a mental corner.

    “What’s that behind your back?”

    “Oh, it’s nothing, just a stick I was messing with.”

    “Then why are you hiding it?”

    “Because I knew you’d ask stupid questions, that’s why!”

    “Whaddya mean, stupid?!”

    “Look in a mirror, dumbass!”

    “TEME!”  He made a wild grab for the stick, only to be swiftly clonked on the head with it as his friend defended himself.

    It was only after being assiduously trounced by Yusuke and having his black eye healed by Yukina that Kuwabara recalled his original question; but by then, the feeling was gone.

* * *

    Elsewhere in the Makai, a pink-and-yellow-clad figure flew speedily among tall pines, zig-zagging around limbs and needles, sweat standing out on her forehead.  Her only thoughts were to keep her target in sight and keep herself from being noticed—two objectives that were nearly mutually exclusive.  Only the memory of her promised penalty, should she lose him, kept her going beyond her physical body’s endurance.

    She would not fail.  Her soul depended on it.

* * *

    Back in youko form, Kurama glided noiselessly through gnarled, coniferous trees, heading as quickly as he dared towards the ice country.  He was hiding his youki as carefully as he had when serving under the two demons; it would not do to be found now.

    He was already wasting time starting out this far from the koorime’s home; Botan had insisted on his entering Makai at this particular spot.  Koenma’s last-minute orders, he speculated.  There was something they weren’t telling him, and this effort to stall him made him certain that they intended to prevent him from finding it out.  This bothered him greatly—he couldn’t for the life of him manage to think of what they might want so badly to hide.  He had proven trustworthy enough for the most dangerous of missions, hadn’t he?  Why keep things from him now?

    Letting his guard down cautiously, he did a quick sweep for Yusuke’s ki, and located him a few miles inside koorime territory.  Quickly he clamped down on his energy before he could be sensed, wishing he could leave himself open long enough to search out the others as well, Hiei in particular.  ~They should be where Yusuke is, in any case,~ he reasoned.  ~I can’t afford to take the chance of being caught before I can warn them.  I only wish I could have found out Donari’s secret; I’m certain Gendou is her subordinate, though why she granted him such power, I can’t fathom.  If only I’d had more time!~

    Caught up in his frustrations, he misjudged a leap and bashed his elbow against the trunk of a tree.  It came away bruised and covered in sap, and he swore softly but with feeling, halting on the crown of the next tall pine where the light was good enough to inspect it.  Normally, his youko form didn’t bruise nearly so easily, but he was low on energy, and had been going at top speed.  As it was, he was lucky it hadn’t broken the skin.

    He rubbed the sap off with his claws.  Noting the darkening sky, he surmised that it was time to take a rest anyway.  If he continued at this rate he would have no energy left should he happen upon an enemy; he also needed to be fit to aid in case Gendou reached the Tantei first.

    It was short work to find a moderately safe place to sleep; a collection of  moss-blanketed rocks would serve to hide and protect him, and the clearing they were situated in was reasonably defensible.  He vaulted down from the pine boughs and curled up under them with a weary sigh.

    As he drifted into a wary half-nap, he thought he felt a presence nearby, but dismissed it as nonthreatening and allowed sleep to claim him fully.

    He dreamed of black and crimson.

* * *

    If someone had flown high up, higher than the clouds and the tallest trees, they might have seen a most curious sight:  seven figures, alone or in groups, converging on a single point as if drawn by a force beyond themselves.  Some gave off sparks of frantic desperation; some were dim with worry and sorrow; still others glowed with anger and a vindictive desire for revenge.

    And if that someone had understood what the meeting of these figures could mean, they might have prayed, right then and there, for a swift end.
Chapter 5:  And Merry Meet Again


    The tiling was smooth and chill beneath his boots, squeaking faintly with each stride.  Even that tiniest of sounds echoed like a bell in the unusually, spookily quiet hall before Koenma’s office.  The oni that normally ran amok through the maze of desks and corridors were subdued—nearly afraid.

    And all of them were staring at Hiei as if he were the harbinger of the apocalypse.
    It irked him, and he turned to look one in the eye as he passed, giving the bespectacled creature a glare that would have frozen magma.  Though it lasted only a second or two, the oni yelped and fell over backwards onto his neighbor, triggering a domino reaction that scattered them around the room in panic.  Hiei snorted his derision and ignored them completely thereafter, pacing with stiff arrogance into the office of Reikai’s heir.

    The two boys were already there, he noted, and George was nowhere in sight rather than lurking in Koenma’s vicinity as per usual.  He paid neither of these observations a jot of attention, deeming them unworthy of acknowledgment at present, though his mind filed them into a neat mental cupboard to be examined later on.  He came to stand rigidly before Koenma’s desk, making certain his aggravation was clear in his stance and expression.

    “What it is now?” he asked, only half-feigning boredom.  “This had better be important.  I don’t have time for any petty missions right now.”  He let a hand dangle carelessly near the hilt of his katana.

    In the silence that greeted him, his nostrils flared suddenly.  Something wasn’t right—he could smell it.  Through narrowed eyes he reviewed his earlier observances.  Why would George, who was practically grafted to Koenma’s skin most of the time, be missing?  Why had the oni in their cubicles been so terrified of him?

    Now he actually looked at his two teammates, sharp eyes taking in their grim, taut expressions and white knuckles.  They weren’t even trying to affect their normal tough-guy stances, nor would they meet his eyes.  There was a peculiar air of skewed disbelief about them as well—one Hiei had only seen among ningens.

    His gaze zipped back to Koenma.  “Who died?” he asked frankly.

    The pole-axed look on the baby’s face confirmed it even before Yusuke haltingly answered him.

    “I—we—”  He drew a shuddering breath.  “Kurama’s ki is gone, Hiei.  There’s no trace of him, in Ningenkai or—or in Makai.”

    It was Hiei’s turn for shock—like electricity twisting his insides.  Kurama?  Anyone else—any demon, any ningen, any god even—he would have believed, but not Kurama.

    “That’s impossible!” he snapped at Koenma, recovering.  “You know where he is, he’s on one of your pathetic errands!  Nothing you could send him to would be more than he could handle!”

    Koenma winced visibly and with real guilt.  He was obviously struggling with his next words.  “I thought he could handle it, Hiei, but it appears I was wrong.  I’m sorry.  I wish I could have—”

    “I will not suffer being lied to!” Hiei snarled, cutting him off.  “If this is your stupid kami idea of a joke, I’m not amused!”  He spat the word ‘kami’ like a curse.  “Maybe if you’d sent the oaf here, he might have been killed, but Kurama is far too intelligent and resourceful to be in any danger!”

    “Stop it, Hiei!” Yusuke shouted at him, coming within arm’s length.  There were actual tears on his face.  “Do you think we’d invent something like this just to make fun of you?  This is hard enough to accept without you calling us all liars!”

    “I’m not calling you liars, I’m calling you bakas!  You’re all obviously too stupid to realize it when your weak ningen emotions have overridden your brains!  Kurama can’t possibly be dead, and the sooner you get that through your thick skulls, the sooner you can start figuring out where he is!”

    “I’m the ruler of Reikai, Hiei.”  Koenma’s voice, though quiet, sliced through the buzzing echoes of the Jaganshi’s last shout, firm and inexorable.  “Do you think I wouldn’t know?”

    Those words froze Hiei where he stood, another angry retort withering on his tongue.  Koenma kept speaking.

    “Ask Botan if you want; she’ll give you the same answer.  Kurama wasn’t perfect, Hiei, nor was he invulnerable to harm, and it was inevitable that something would happen that he couldn’t anticipate.  There’s nothing I can do for you now except tell you to move on, because he isn’t coming back.”

    Each calm, rational syllable gouged a hole in Hiei’s chest; he forgot to breathe as the full impact of realization struck like a blow to the gut.  His hand slipped from the hilt of his katana to hang lifelessly at his side.

    Of course Koenma would know.  Death was what he did.

    ~Then . . . he really is . . .~

    He rejected the thought violently, again clutching the hilt, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip and the wrapping digging into his palm.  His mind battled the concept as though it were the most reviled of enemies, a craven, twisted creature soiling him with its very essence; he would never accept it.  Accepting this meant accepting that he would never again tease the redhead about his ningen admirers, never take shelter in his room during a storm, never fight alongside someone he trusted with his back, never sit through another lecture on why he should tell Yukina that he was her brother.  The very emotions he despised as weak made his head throb and his throat constrict at the thought of that acknowledgment.

    That was something he wouldn’t—couldn’t—do.

    Whatever Yusuke saw in his expression made the boy reach out a hand, almost unintentionally, to touch Hiei’s shoulder.  The half-koorime felt a sudden spurt of terror, overlaying the leaden feeling; if he allowed that touch, he might lose control and give in to those emotions, disgracing himself and showing weakness.

    He bolted, ignoring the distressed cry that chased him from the office.  He felt the prickle of tears in his eyes, the first in uncounted years, and angrily dashed them away before they could crystallize.  That anger spread, encompassing the pain, until it was all that he felt.

    Damn Kurama.  Damn him.  ~How dare you, fox!~ he seethed internally.  ~How dare you die on one of Koenma’s idiotic missions!  How dare you!~

    The anger built, and with it came grief, and he just ran, no longer knowing or caring where he might be.  If he fled fast enough, far enough, maybe—just maybe—he could outrun his feelings.

    And so he ran.

* * *

    It was a dream just like all the others; he hadn’t known souls could dream.  Between visions now, he glided through a halfway place, where he could see his own being and all the dark places it contained.  A single thread, stretched thinner than the finest gossamer fiber, anchored him while he floated in the warm, dark water of his memories; yet, two other threads also extended from his soul, reaching out to—whom?

    He could see them in his mind’s eye.  One, he recognized; the soft, cool drift of ice-blue energy was unmistakable and comforting, one he had known for as long as his memory extended, and that had been at times the only thing keeping him from madness.  But the other puzzled him.  It was weaker and less bright, flickering in and out in pulses and bringing with it the dreams—he realized that it was the source of the memories he relived.  Its presence felt soothing, like a balm.

    He tried to see it better, to touch it and trace it to its origin.  A flash of gentle red emanated from it as he reached out, and he saw that something was wrong with it.  There was a dark place at its end, where it vanished into nothingness—into shadow . . . it would soon be gone forever, against its will.

    What was it, he wondered?  Who was it?  What was it for?  He searched among those memories for a name—

    Then something tore, like the wet rip of silk, and he knew.

    He turned and flung himself back into reality, falling towards the pain of light.  Though it was torture beyond any he had ever known, no choice was left to him.  His own soul had stolen that away—there was something he had to do.

    Then, after, he could rest.

* * *

    It was just past twilight.  The sky was dark blue satin interwoven with threads of metallic silver; but never had mere cloth been so alive with shifting lights, and the static shine of silver had never reflected as many dancing colors as these stars now did.  The skies of the Ningenkai had long since been obscured by smog and pollution—such a nighttime mural was only to be found in Makai, when there were no clouds to hide the perfection that seemed so incongruous for such a violent world.

    The fire was burning high but fitfully, as a chill wind did its best to snuff out what little light it afforded, and Yukina sat watching those familiar stars as Kuwabara fed it more of the fuel they had collected that evening.  They had camped less than a day from their destination; tomorrow would see them in audience with the koorime elders, if all went well.

    Indeed, they would have pressed on but for Kuwabara’s stubborn and unexplained insistence on camping in this precise spot, though it was hardly sheltered, nor easily defended should they be set upon.  Yusuke hadn’t argued as much as Yukina had come to expect—even he had learned that it was best to trust Kuwabara’s hunches.

    Sighing, Yukina set aside her bag of tear gems and inched a few feet away from the fire.  While she had become accustomed to the temperatures in Ningenkai, fire bothered her, and she found the familiarity of the snow around her to be much more comfortable.  Fire was angry and vengeful, and too bright for her sensitive eyes.

    Something caught her attention, and she lifted her face to sniff delicately at the frigid wind.  There was a strange scent on the air; she didn’t think the others had noticed it (although, looking at her companions’ shiny red noses, she doubted they could smell anything at present).  As it didn’t smell dangerous and she couldn’t identify it no matter how she puzzled, she kept it to herself, not wanting to alarm them unnecessarily.

    Her stomach was in knots.  It had been so long since she’d been home, and she didn’t have any illusions about the kind of welcome she was likely to receive.  An outcast by choice, gone on a mission to find her forbidden and condemned brother, bringing possibly hostile, ningen outsiders into koorime territory with her, asking an enormous favor of elders she hadn’t seen in goodness knows how long?  They would be openly scorned at best—and forced into a battle at worst.  Yukina was desperately hoping it wouldn’t come to that, placing dubious trust in the diplomatic abilities of two males who where used to solving every problem with a punch in the face and in her own history with her people.

    All in all, she felt she was justified in her apprehension.

    “Oi, Kuwabara?” Yusuke said from his seat opposite Yukina.  “I’ll take first watch.”

    “Sure,” replied Kuwabara absently, mesmerized by the capering flames.  His weary eyes made Yukina silently turn a grateful look on Yusuke, to which he replied with a slight nod and a smile that said he knew how truly out of it Kuwabara was.  Half a night’s sleep would do him good, and clear his head of any odd thoughts or feelings that might be straining on him.  By the time his watch rolled around, he would be in condition to do more than stare dumbly at any approaching youkai.

    Then Yusuke turned to Yukina.  “Hey,” he said quietly.  “Something on your mind?”

    The question startled her, and she blinked.  “Me?  Oh, it’s nothing.  I’m just worried about our meeting with the elders tomorrow.”

    “Ah, don’t sweat it,” he replied, leaning back against one of the large rocks and crossing his arms behind his head.  “We’ve all done enough worrying about something we can’t control.  You just sleep now.”  He laid a hand on her shoulder, smiled reassuringly, and tossed a tuft of snow at his other companion.  “You too, Kuwabara.”

    Yukina counted it as a bad sign that the carrot-top was too tired even to fling snow in retaliation; she moved over to sit next to him, snuggling a bit, and saw him blush before she closed her eyes and prepared for sleep.

* * *

    “Hiei,” Koenma said.  “Hiei!”

    There was no response.  The fire youkai was sitting in a corner of the prison cell with his back against the wall, staring vacantly into empty space; the utter absence in his half-lidded eyes sent a crawl up Koenma’s spine.  His arms were limp at his sides, hands curled flaccidly on the smooth floor, and there was a peculiar, eerie sort of half-smile on his face.  He seemed to have passed into some kind of trance in which he was unaware of anything except his own internal pain.

    Most uncanny of all, his Jagan eye was glowing, a soft but definite blue that showed through the headband and brought out frightening shadows on his face.

    When George had reported the state Hiei was in, Koenma had come raging down here in a huff to see for himself, certain the oni had exaggerated.  This was clearly not the case.  The floor was littered with heaps and scatters of priceless black tear gems, and stains of moisture remained on the Jaganshi’s pallid cheeks—to have produced so many, he had to have been crying nonstop for an unimaginable length of time.  More frightening was the glow of the Jagan; without the youki of a physical demon body, it shouldn’t have been able to do anything at all, rendered as inert as Hiei now appeared.

    “He’s been like that for a while, sir.”  George leaned over to speak to his ruler.  “We haven’t been able to get anything out of him since he stopped laughing.”  He shuddered a bit.  “It was really creepy, sir.  He was sitting there, laughing his head off and dropping those jewels everywhere, and suddenly he leaned back against the wall, muttered something and was just—gone.”

    “This is terrible!” stated the god, disbelief and a touch of panic coloring his voice.  “The laughing was bad enough, but I had no idea he was this unstable!  He may be the Tantei’s last hope—we can’t afford to have him lose his mind now!”

    “Just what are we going to do about it?”  George sounded rather skeptical that anything *could* be done.

    “I don’t know!” Koenma whined.  He slumped down in front of the cell door.  “I’ve had no experience in dealing with suicide cases!  They usually just go where they’re supposed to, but I had to yank him here so we could get him to come back to life!  Now I don’t know what to do with him!”

    The oni shuffled his feet uncertainly.  “Well, I’ll have someone look into his file; maybe we can find something he’ll respond to.”  He turned and ran down the hall towards Records, obviously grateful to get  away from that blank, unnerving stare.

    His flunky gone, Koenma, still on his knees, turned to regard the unmoving prisoner, studying him for a long moment.  He then reached out and opened the cell door, carefully and deliberately setting the half-koorime free.

    There wasn’t even a glimmer of reaction.  Hiei merely sat there, looking at nothing.

    ~What could possibly be going through his head to make him like this?~ Koenma silently asked of those vacuous eyes.  ~It’s like he doesn’t care if he stays here for all eternity; it’s like he isn’t there anymore.  If I’d known that something like this could push him over the edge, I’d never have made him one of the Tantei, punishment or no punishment . . .~

    The pounding of bare feet signaled the oni’s swift return.  He was empty-handed.  “I’m sorry, sir, but his file doesn’t have anything in it that could help.  It’s mostly a description of the time he stole the Koma no Ken and some of his past missions with the Tantei, and there aren’t a lot of details about him, mostly because we still don’t know very much.  He’s been very secretive, and has never cooperated with questioning.”

    “I’m afraid this may be a lost cause.”  The words were reluctant.  “We may just have to send him to his place in Reikai and try to find someone else to help the Tantei.”

    “But who, sir?”  George cringed at the daggered glare he received for his question, and mumbled a hasty apology.

    “At least Kurama will be there soon . . .”

    At those words, pressure suddenly crackled to life, culminating in a sensation like an internal snap, nearly audible in the small, close cell.  It made Koenma’s ears pop, and he spun to face Hiei.

    “What’s going on?”

    Slowly, something began to visibly flow into Hiei’s eyes.  His odd smile vanished and he inhaled sharply, coming back to himself in a process that was painfully hard to watch, and tilted his head to look at the two outside his cell.  There was nothing in his expression now that Koenma could read.

    As the ruler and his oni stared, stunned, he sat upright.  “Where is Kurama?” he asked, his voice containing an odd, indifferent quality.

    “Sir, you did it!” George cried happily.

    “I did?” Koenma said, puzzled.

    “Where is Kurama?” Hiei repeated without an ounce more inflection.

    “In the Makai,” George supplied helpfully before being bonked by Koenma.  He lost his balance and landed with an “Oomph!” as the teenager snapped an order, ignoring the Jaganshi’s question.

    “Get up, George!  Go get his file right away!  And bring whoever processed him as well!”

    “Yes, sir!”  The oni leapt to his feet and sped off down the corridor.  Koenma turned his attention back to the prisoner.

    “Are you all right?”  This seemed an odd thing to say, even to him, but he felt compelled to ask it.

    Hiei shook his head.  “That is not important.  Where is Kurama?”

    “Aren’t you going to say anything else?” Koenma demanded, edging farther out of the cell as he recalled that the door was still open.  He nervously calculated the odds of getting it closed before Hiei could reach him, and was not reassured.

    Very calm, very lucid red eyes stared at him.  “Kurama needs help.”  It was not a question; the Jaganshi’s voice was clear and strong, and oddly flat in its conviction, as if he were giving an order that could not be disobeyed.

    “How do you know—yes!”  Koenma snatched at the opening, recovering his lost equilibrium swiftly.  This was his chance to make it work, and if he blew it, he might as well send the worlds to hell by his own hand.  “He does!”

    “I already said that, fool.  Now tell me where he is.”

    There was no turning back now.  He threw everything into this last-ditch effort, wishing he weren’t a god so he’d have someone to pray to.  “I can help you find him, but the only way for you to help him is to return to life!  You have to consent to—”

    “I will.”

    The quiet words caught the godlet in mid-speech.  He stared with incredulity at having so quickly gotten what he had hardly dared to hope for, and it took him a moment of floundering to come up with a reply.  “You—you will?  I mean, that’s good, but I didn’t expect—”

    And then, abruptly, anger.

    Hiei was on him in a movement that must have been twice as fast as even his usual lightning speed.  He had Koenma by the collar before the ruler had even seen him move, and his eyes were truly on fire.  Short as he was, he seemed to tower over the taller princeling, Jagan seething now with a golden aura and teeth bared in a fierce snarl.  All hint of listlessness had been erased instantaneously; he was in full demon fury, a killing rage that was frightening to see.

    “I said,” he hissed, “I will.”

    And he dropped Koenma in a heap and stalked past him, out of the cell.

    “Ow!  My tailbone!  I’ve got to stop letting him do that!”

    “Are you all right, sir?”  George, just returning with another clerk in tow, dashed up.  The blue oni pounced on his boss in concern and got a jawful of shoe for his trouble.

    “I’m fine, you idiot!  Just help me up!”  George hurriedly complied, and Koenma straightened his clothes with a smile of satisfaction.  “Well.  I don’t know who it was before, but that is Hiei.”

* * *

    It must have been two hours into his watch that Yusuke nodded off.  He hadn’t meant to; the cold was getting to him, or so he rationalized as he groggily started from his doze, unsure what had woken him.

    He glanced at Kuwabara and Yukina.  They both still slept, looking rather nauseatingly saccharine cuddled up together as they were, and Yusuke couldn’t help but grin.  ~Well, at least they’re still asleep, so no one will know I screwed up.~

    And then he saw something.

    A shape was flitting through the trees, approaching fast.  He couldn’t quite make out what it was, but an aberrant tingle in the air suggested power—which suggested danger.

    “Kuwabara!  Wake up!”  He kicked the blue bundle when it did nothing more than groan.  “I said wake up!”

    “Ow!  Urameshi, what are you—”

    “Shh!”  Yusuke held up a hand for silence.  “We’ve got a visitor.”

     The two newly-awakened sleepers were instantly quiet, though Kuwabara slowly rose to his knees in the sound-eating snow.  His eyes scanned the surrounding forest until he spotted the shape, and his lips narrowed down to a thin, grim line, tempered with an odd quirk to his eyebrows that looked almost like surprise.  Yusuke grunted, not realizing how like Hiei he sounded.  ~Why surprise?  After all, why should youkai attack us in the middle of the night in Makai?  How rude of them; didn’t their mothers teach them better than that?~

    “This guy feels weird, Urameshi.  We should be careful.”

    Yusuke nodded.  “Get ready,” he murmured as the figure came closer.  He still couldn’t see it properly because of the lack of light—it also seemed to be the same color as the snow.  ~A koorime scout?~  He dismissed that.  ~Nah, coming from the wrong direction.  Besides, even koorime need light to see, and this guy apparently doesn’t.~  He frowned as he realized the advantage that would give the intruder.

    It was an eternity as they waited—but then, wasn’t it always?  Anticipation traversed his adrenal system with its familiar vibration, and his reiki flickered in impatience, reined in only by caution.

    The figure came closer, and closer, and closer, until they could almost see its eyes—

    “Rei gun!” he yelled, loosing the bullet with accuracy.  It exploded in the figure’s face with its familiar blue flash, and the figure dropped soundlessly to the snow, sliding into the darkness.

    “Hah!  Got him!” Yusuke crowed, lowering his finger and giving his head a satisfied toss.  Yukina put a hand to her mouth, her expression anxious and frightened.  Kuwabara stepped forward with uncharacteristic caution to get a closer look at the intruder who lay prone in the shadow of a snowy tree.

    He bent over to see its face—and shrieked.

    “Hey!” Yusuke yelled as his friend fell over backwards onto his rump, an expression of unmitigated terror on his face.  “What is it?”

    “Th-th-that’s impossible!” Kuwabara stammered, his face as white as rice paper.  “He can’t be!”  His pupils were nearly nonexistent and his nostrils were flared like a wild animal’s.

    “What is wrong with you, Kuwabara?” the brown-eyed detective demanded with badly concealed impatience.  “It’s not like it’s Toguro or anything!”  ~I really, really, really hope it isn’t, anyway . . .~

    “It’s a ghost!” the carrot-top shouted, scuttling crab-like over a snowbank and falling backwards off the other side with a painful nose.  Yukina followed him over with a little squeak of distress.

    Yusuke relaxed minimally.  “Of course he’s not a ghost, you dumbass.  I hit him with my rei gun, so I think that means this guy’s pretty solid.  Besides, even you can’t see ghosts—I oughta know.”  Receiving no response save smothered splutters, he sighed and strode over to the fallen figure, peering through the shadows to see its face.

    He gasped.

* * *

    Botan flipped open her communications mirror and hit the button.  She was shivering from cold as Koenma’s face appeared on her screen.

    “What is it, Botan?”

    “They’ve made contact, Koenma.  Kurama tried to sneak up on them and got knocked unconscious by Yusuke’s rei gun.  He was out for about ten minutes; he’s just waking up now.”

    “What was Yusuke’s reaction?”

    “Not good, I’m afraid.  He and the other two are having a difficult time dealing, to say the least.  I don’t think this is going to be pretty—especially since the first thing Kurama is going to ask them is where Hiei is.”

    Koenma sighed, the sound coming through as a static whistle.  His face was bleak.  “Just keep an eye on them, and only interfere if something drastic comes up.  I’ve been working on a solution to our problem, and we may have a chance at making our initial strategy work, so wait for my call before trying anything of your own.”

    Botan’s eyes widened in understanding and she nodded.  “Yes, sir.  Botan out.”

* * *

    Kurama awoke slowly, not realizing he’d been asleep.  In fact, the last he recalled, he’d been drawing close to Yusuke’s camp, darting by moonlight through the frozen forest.

    Then he groaned, both in realized pain and realized embarrassment.  Of course.  He’d been neatly felled by Yusuke’s rei gun, and was just recovering from unconsciousness, not sleep.  ~Small wonder.  Why did I try to approach them in the middle of the night, with my ki masked, no less?  I suppose it’s nothing more than what I deserve for such a foolish move.  I’d nearly forgotten how powerful the rei gun truly is.~

    Stretching kinks from his arms and shoulders, he sat up without opening his eyes, dreading the headache that surely awaited him once snow-glare kicked him the face.  His sensitive ears heard breathing, and his nose picked out cold-dampened scents.  ~Yusuke and Kuwabara, of course—but that doesn’t smell like Hiei.  Yukina?~

    He reverted to human form to dim his sight and cracked his eyes open at last, wincing in pain.  A simple punch in the nose would have hurt less, but he didn’t blame Yusuke for being paranoid.

    The object of his thoughts came into his field of view, sitting down cross-legged in the snow before him.  Kurama blinked until the dark-haired boy stopped wavering, then gave him a tired smile.  “You needn’t have knocked me out, you know; I was quite tired enough to sleep without help.”

    Yusuke didn’t answer him, only stared at him with flat, emotionless eyes.  Kurama slowly let go of his smile, letting a worried frown replace it.  “What is it, Yusuke?  I’ll admit my arrival is somewhat abrupt, but I have something important to tell you, and my mission for Koenma took an unfortunate second place.”  Still the boy gave him no response; Kurama began to get anxious.  His glance darted around, noting the odd, indecipherable expression on Kuwabara’s face and the plain fear on Yukina’s.  ~This can’t be normal.  What’s wrong with them?~  “Where’s Hiei?” he asked, attempting to divert the subject a bit, not to mention satisfy his almost desperate desire to know.

    The silence following his words was absolutely stifling.

* * *

    “Sir!”

    A mauve-colored oni scurried into Koenma’s office, skidding to an abrupt halt when confronted with not only his boss, but Hiei as well, leaning against one wall and looking sullen.  The clerk swallowed convulsively and doggedly continued with his message.  “Sir, we’ve got a problem!”

    “I’m busy right now.  Can it wait?”

    “Um, not really, sir—it’s about that scout you sent to the classified sector, and he—”

    Koenma sat up straight, his expression akin to terrified.  “A problem?  With him?  What kind of a problem?”

    “He was found out by the rogue demons, sir!”

    “But I would have known if he were dead—”  Koenma stopped.  “Has he been captured?”

    The oni nodded unhappily, glancing at Hiei with nervous eyes.  “We think they’re using him to track down the other operative, but we don’t know very much else.”

    The kami considered for a while, looking troubled, but then his face cleared.  “Thank you, you may go.  I’ll take care of this shortly.”  He, too, glanced at Hiei as the messenger gratefully escaped.  “Retrieving the scout will be your first priority after you return to life.  That’ll make it harder for these demons to find the Tantei.  Understand?”

    Hiei’s eyes flashed, but he said nothing.  Koenma nodded satisfaction.  “Good.  Then let’s get started.”

    He did not see the calculating look on Hiei’s face as he turned away.
Chapter 6:  Ice Dance


    Reality . . . was this reality?  Perhaps he was dreaming, still locked in a stupor of servitude, still waiting for the weary sun to rise on another weary day of subterfuge and frustration.  That reality seemed far more potent and tangible than what he was confronted with now.  Yet the light had already burgeoned over the lustrous, snow-veiled horizon in the time that had elapsed since Yusuke had begun to speak, and Kurama’s mind purled like churning water, refusing to settle into any form of complacency.  This—this was unimaginable, but he had to be imagining it; it couldn’t be really real.

    ~Myself presumed dead, Koenma confirming it, and . . . Hiei . . .~

    Memories overtook him, mercilessly replaying, battering him with the knowledge that the happy times they represented would never come again.  Hiei, dead by his own hand—in a way, it was what Kurama had feared most ever since they had become friends, and now he had caused it to be true.

    ~This . . . is my fault.~

    He looked up at Yusuke, resisting the insane, triple urges of laughter, tears and rage; Yusuke stared back at him with eyes made black by the tale he had told, watching the kitsune for—what?  Damned if Kurama knew.  Kuwabara and Yukina sat just in sight at the edge of camp, leaving Kurama and Yusuke to talk alone at Yusuke’s request; he could feel their eyes on him as well, and felt a need to say something, anything.  And yet he was unable to utter a word in this numb state, where his mind floated just an inch above his body and refused to return until he convinced it this wasn’t happening.

    Yusuke finally broke the silence.  “We missed you, Kurama,” he said quietly.  “We all missed you, Hiei most of all.”

    Kurama felt a lance of guilt and grief, unable to meet his friend’s eyes as iron bands constricted his chest.  “Yusuke, I—”  His attempt at speech ended there as his airway closed itself off abruptly.  Shock had stolen coherent thought, and he wasn’t even sure what he had been about to say.

    The raven-haired detective put a hand on his shoulder.  “You don’t have to say anything, Kurama.  I know you didn’t know.  Koenma lied to you, just like he lied to us.”  He spat Koenma’s name with a hatred Kurama hadn’t heard in a long time—not since the death of Genkai at the Dark Tournament.  His grip tightened and his voice began to rise as he spoke again.  “That son of a bitch.  This is all his fault, he screwed us all over, and we trusted him!  I’ve been feeling responsible for everything, and it’s because of him that Hiei—”

    “Don’t,” Kurama interrupted him softly.  “I can’t—I can’t imagine why he would have . . .”  Tears appeared in his leaf-green eyes and made them bright.  “This doesn’t seem real,” he whispered.  ~Not Koenma’s fault.  Not his.  Mine.~

    The hand abruptly withdrew, and Yusuke looked guiltily away.  “I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly.  “We’ve had a lot of time to—adjust, and I shouldn’t have dumped it on you so fast.  I know you two were close—kisama!”  He punched the yielding snowbank, leaving a foot-deep hole in its crystalline crust.  “None of this is coming out right!”

    Kurama winced; though his own grief made breathing an ordeal, for Yusuke, this was like ripping open an old, half-healed scar.  He regained control with an iron will, forcing down the tears.  ~I shouldn’t make this harder for him.  I’m youko; I don’t have to give in to my emotions, and he needs the stability more than I.~  “There is no need for that, Yusuke.  It’s difficult for both of us.  I just wish I’d been here, or that I could have known.”

    Yusuke gave him a startled glance, obviously surprised by his sudden coherence, and after a moment warily shifted subjects.  “Where were you, anyway?  All we knew is that it was a mission.”

    Kurama’s expression was something less than a smile.  “There is not much to tell.”

    “I wanna hear it anyway,” Yusuke persisted, seeming more like his old self.

    “Very well then.”  Kurama drew in a long, slow breath through his nose, releasing it in a loud sigh.  His voice, when it emerged, was a harsh whisper.  “I’ve been in the—employ, shall I say, of two youkai named Donari and Gendou.  They were, up until a little over two months ago, the lowest class of demon, barely fit to survive in the Makai.  They were lucky to have lived long enough to form a partnership.”

    “Employ, huh?  Sounds fun.  But why bother with them if they weren’t even a blip on the radar?”

    Kurama gave a dry chuckle.  “They became, quite suddenly, a very large ‘blip,’ Yusuke.  Do you recall the killings near the eastern sector of Makai?  Hiei spoke of them before I left.”

    “You mean the ones Koenma told us not to bother investigating?”  His eyes widened as sudden understanding struck.  “Inari . . . that was them?  Gendou and Donari?  All those massacres?”  Yusuke shuddered, then stiffened as another thought occurred to him.  “Koenma said not to worry about it—that was because he was sending you, wasn’t it?”

    A nod.  “Because Gendou and Donari had gone from negligible to such high-level youkai, Koenma was worried that they might become arrogant and attack the Reikai.  Moreover, he was certain that somewhere still in the Makai was whatever had made them so powerful in the first place, and that it might well be in the worst of hands.”

    He paused before continuing.  “I was sent to be their slave, to gain their trust and to perhaps discover the source of their power.  However, because of your arrival in the Makai, I was forced to leave before I could learn much of use.  The only thing I know for sure is that they are perhaps the most dangerous youkai currently alive; they have virtually no knowledge of either the Reikai or the Ningenkai, though it is rumored that they have spies in both, and they know no more than rumors of the Tantei as we are.”

    The fox gave his companion a wry, mournful glance.  “I don’t think you realize how significant that might be.  As powerful as they are, even I could not hope to stand against even one of them for long, but this lack of knowledge could prove their only exploitable weakness.

    “The information they have is very much out of date; I suspect the underlings they have acquired as spies are deliberately omitting key facts, trying to make them more vulnerable.  I seriously doubt that they even know your name, as they referred to us merely as a group of exceptionally strong ningens, which gives us the advantage of surprise.  However, it may not last long—they are bound to find out sooner or later.”

    There was an interim of silence then, during which Yusuke assimilated all of this information.  When he spoke again, it was the question Kurama had feared most.

    “Why didn’t Koenma tell us?  Why would he hide something like this?”

    Kurama glanced at him, his eyes full of pain.  “I don’t know, Yusuke,” he replied quietly.  “I only wish I’d been aware enough to see it sooner.  I could have come back; I could have—”

    “Don’t you dare,” his companion interrupted, forcing Kurama to look him in the eyes.  “Don’t you dare blame yourself.  There was no way you could have known.  Besides, you know how hard it was to talk Hiei out of anything.”  He chuckled sardonically.  It didn’t quite sound like a laugh.  “If you’d shown up and told him not to, he’d probably have done it anyway, just to be an ass.”

    That struck Kurama through the heart, but he managed a wan almost-smile for Yusuke’s benefit.  “Perhaps you’re right.  I just can’t help but think that I might have done something to prevent it.”

    “I know how you feel.  Trust me—I know.  There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought of something that could have saved him, if only I’d known.”

    The mutual silence that came after lasted for a good while, long enough that Kuwabara and Yukina began to edge closer to see if the two were finished talking.  Yusuke gave them a ‘one minute’ sign and turned back to the kitsune.  “We’re going to see the koorime elders today.  Are you coming with us?”

    “Certainly,” Kurama replied, a shade startled.  “Why would I not?”

    “Thanks,” Yusuke said with obvious relief.  “We could definitely use you; neither of us—” he jerked his thumb to include Kuwabara in that statement “—is any good at talking things out, and it could get pretty messy with the elders if Yukina can’t smooth things over.”

    “Are you talking about me, Urameshi?” Kuwabara demanded from across the clearing.

    Kurama managed a genuine smile at that, and nodded affirmatively.  “I’ll help as much as I can.  Be assured of that.”  Then he frowned.  “But you’ve been up all night; are you sure you don’t want to sleep first, and see them when you’re not so tired?”

    “You do have a point,” the boy conceded, glancing over at the other two party members.  “Oi, you two, is it all right if we go see the elders later tonight?  We need to get some sleep.”

    “Uh, sure, that’s fine, I guess,” Kuwabara called back, after watching Yukina for assent, which she haltingly gave.

    “Then let’s do that.  I’ll stand first watch.”

    “No, Yusuke, let me.  I have—things to think about.”

    Yusuke searched his expression, and did not argue, only nodded.  He got up, and went to settle by the now-dim campfire, leaving the redhead alone in the creeping light of dawn.

* * *

    Walking down unfamiliar, smooth-floored corridors in Reikai’s palace, Hiei was beginning to have serious misgivings.

    He had been wondering for some time exactly how Koenma planned to restore his life.  He had been dead for days—weeks?  His sense of time seemed to have departed with his breath, but he guessed that at least five or six days had gone by.  A body, even a youkai’s, would certainly begin to decay in that amount of time.

    Then, listening to Koenma’s stream of babble, he heard a passing reference to ‘stasis’, and felt a flash of anger.  They’d been keeping his body preserved, expecting him to cave, had they?  And what was worse, he had.  His pride smarted, stung by his weakness of will.

    But the sense of urgency that had prodded him to agree now pushed against his mind, screaming that all this was taking too long.  He didn’t have time to wait around Reikai while his body realigned itself—that could take days or even weeks, and the premonition of imminent danger refused to be stifled.  He was becoming more convinced, with each moment, that if he waited that long, he would be too late; he didn’t know how he knew, but the certainty of it was bone-deep.

    ~It all comes down to choice,~ he reflected sardonically.  His first choice, to die, had boxed him into a corner.  ~I can either go through with my return to life and be too late to do anything, or I can escape now and risk being unable to do anything anyway.  I see Inari’s sense of humor hasn’t improved since I was alive.~  He already found it easy to think of his life in the past tense.

    Koenma, preceding him down the hall, stopped at a door and turned around.  “This is where your body’s being kept.  We’ll have to take it back to Ningenkai before you can be resurrected.”

    Hiei snorted.  “Why Ningenkai?  Can’t you let me have a shred of dignity about this whole business?”

    The toddler gave him a disgusted look that said it should be obvious.  “Because that’s where you died, and that means it’s the only place where you can be brought back to life.”

    This was news to Hiei, who did not deign to reply.  He waited with as much patience as he had left while Koenma pulled out a key and inserted it into the heavy brass lock, pulling the door open.  “Follow me,” Koenma said, and they went in.

    The stasis room, as it turned out, was a most singular place.  There were no lights, and yet there was light, coming from nowhere Hiei could see; the walls of the oddly ovoid room were a queer, off-color white that reminded him of eggshells.  In the center of the room was a table, and on it a pallet.

    There Hiei’s body was laid out lengthwise, a strange humming coming from it that resonated along his every nerve.  The body was dressed in Hiei’s customary black cloak, with his katana in its sheath lying detached next to the place where it ought to be belted to the waist.  The eyes were closed, the face peaceful—and covering one wrist and hand, clearly visible in the merciless, sourceless light, was a latticework of thin red scars.

    That sight hit Hiei harder than he could ever have expected.  The body lying there didn’t look like him—it was a prison he had escaped, and yet he felt drawn to it.  He froze, torn in an instant between an instinctive, soul-deep yearning to be merged with his empty vessel, and a revulsion almost like terror that welled up in his throat like bile.

    He vividly recalled his first few moments of death, hovering in the black of Ningenkai’s night and looking down at the pitiful, tearstained form that had lain so still in the darkness, blood gleaming wetly in the wan illumination of the moon.  It hadn’t seemed so real, then; he had felt little else besides an aching relief, knowing that it was finally over, and a strange sense of shame.  Now it hit him like his own Kokuryuha—and fear triumphed over longing.

    ~I—can’t go back!~

    Oblivious to the youkai’s discomfiture, Koenma struck up his monologue again.  “By my calculations, your body and your soul should be realigned in about seventy-two hours.  Since your companions are all busy right now, we’ll have to cheat a little; I can change some of my own energy into youki that is compatible with yours, so I’ll be transferring the life energy to you myself.  This does mean I’ll have to kiss you, but I hope you won’t fault me for the necessity of—”

    Turning around to face Hiei, he broke off suddenly.  He was talking to an empty room.

    Hiei heard the alarm being raised as he fled, but he was already out of the palace and heading for the portal that would take him to Makai—and to Kurama.

* * *

    Yusuke was of the opinion that the only reason the koorime “escort” hadn’t attacked them outright was that Yukina was with them.  The two females were surly and hostile towards everyone else, acting as if the Tantei would backstab them any second, and though they were hardly civil to Yukina, at least they didn’t growl every time she moved.

    He glanced again at the scouts.  They were dressed far differently from Yukina, in short white tunics that bared their long legs and with hair hacked functionally short, arrow quivers across their backs to accompany bows that had been drawn since they had spotted Yusuke and his group.  They would have presented next to no challenge for him—but he wasn’t about to fight them.

    He had long ago decided that this was the stupidest thing he had ever elected to do in his life, both before and after his resurrection.  Sure, suicide moves were his specialty, and he made a hobby out of risking his neck for trivial reasons, but he usually stood a good chance at accomplishing whatever goals he had set.  Anything that brute force could solve, he considered as good as done.

    However, this was an entirely different matter.  This required tact, skill, and quick, smooth thinking and talking.  It wasn’t as if he could just punch the elders out, though it might be satisfying to try; he had to admit, to himself if to no one else, that he was terrified of botching things up.

    ~It’s just a routine mission,~ he attempted to tell himself, but it wasn’t working; something that could make Koenma so nervous was on par with some of his first big cases, such as the menace of the Four Saint Beasts.  That was not reassuring.

    Now, as they approached Yukina’s village, he became quite sure that he ought to have insisted on her going it alone.  He had briefly broached the subject and braced himself for the inevitable, which had come in the form of Kuwabara’s violent protest and Yukina being unable to get a word in.  Yusuke thought sourly that if she’d been allowed to talk, she would probably have agreed with him, but by now it was a very moot point.

    Kurama’s presence was the only thing stopping him from attempting to escape his near-hopeless situation.  The kitsune was unfailingly suave and persuasive, and if all else flopped he could probably filch the item from under the koorime’s noses without them ever noticing.  As such, Yusuke was perfectly ready to sit back and let him take care of it.

    ~Interesting how I just fall right into the old habit of relying on him to back me,~ Yusuke reflected.  ~It’s like he was never gone—or at least, kinda like that.  More like he was just gone on a trip or something, and we’d expected him back all along.~

    Then again, he hadn’t ever really gotten out of that habit; every discussion he had had with Kuwabara before the youko’s return had been laced with intermittent pauses, as Yusuke stopped talking and waited for Kurama to offer advice or make a comment.  Those intervals had echoed emptily then, but now that he was back they were again filled, and it was as natural as breathing.

    His thoughts had carried him all the way beyond the village boundary, and he paused in them to look around.

    The koorime settlement itself was surprisingly simple, the dwellings unobtrusive and elegant without sacrificing comfort or practicality; the forest was such an integral part of the construction and atmosphere that they might as well have lived in the trees themselves.  It all managed to look sophisticated and yet rustic, perfectly designed and yet haphazardly spaced—the resulting sense of anachronism made Yusuke’s head hurt, though that might have been partially due to cold and fatigue.  None of them had slept overmuch that day.

    There were no koorime about save the ones leading them, which he found hardly surprising considering the hatred for men these apparitions harbored, but the overall effect was of a ghost village—deserted and creepy.

    It became obvious that they were headed for the largest structure at what appeared to be the village’s central square, or at least central clearing.  ~Huh.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that’s where the elders are.  Well, here goes.~  Yusuke squared his shoulders and strode boldly where he was led, walking without an ounce of hesitation into the building.

    He almost stopped short as a blast of cold air slapped him in the face; it was even colder inside than outside, if such was possible.  The ceiling was high and domed, with cleverly constructed arches of ice supporting it, making it seem overall to be more spacious than its plain exterior had hinted.  Opaque ice panels sectioned off part of the main structure, creating an atrium effect.  Yusuke shivered.  The koorime looked so human; for some reason he had expected their architecture to be somewhat less—well, alien.  Moreover, the use of ice as a permanent building material made him nervous—it looked far too fragile to be holding as much weight as it was.

    The two koorime escorting them proceeded to the partition and halted, turning to flank it like genuine door guards.  Yusuke blinked, but wisely elected to say nothing; one of them raised an imperious hand and rapped once on the pane before her.  A tone like a bell thrummed dully through the air, and Yusuke realized that this antechamber had been specifically designed for that effect.  Then a door-shaped opening seemed to melt out of the ice, and he forgot to be reserved and stared.  ~This stuff is amazing.  I didn’t know you could do so many different things with just ice.~

    He glanced at Yukina, who was looking suspiciously misty-eyed, as the last ringing echoes faded from the room.  ~I hope she and Kurama can get us through this.  If not, we’re so screwed it isn’t even funny.  I hate to think what’ll happen if we can’t get that artifact back.~

    One of the koorime glanced at them with eyes as cold as the room.  “If you’ll follow us, please?” the scout said, directly to Yukina, looking past the males as if they didn’t exist.  Kuwabara stiffened at the implied insult, making as if to move forward and stopping at Kurama’s restraining hand on his shoulder.

    Yusuke didn’t bother watching his two teammates any longer; taking a deep, slow breath, he followed Yukina as she in turn followed her fellow koorime through the doorway—and he halted.

    He had expected (there was that word again) the remainder of the building to be one huge, echoing, intimidating room, perhaps with pillars and intricate ice carvings to enhance the effect; this room was smaller than the entryway and unequivocally bare.  A semi-circle of knee cushions were placed against the back wall, a low table in the center, and on those cushions sat seven stately koorime.

    Yusuke was abruptly tongue-tied.  He had had a sketchy sort of speech planned out, but he couldn’t recall a word of it.  Panic began to rise in his throat as the women stared at him coolly, appraising him.  ~Come on, Yusuke, snap out of it!  This is the crucial point!  You can’t afford to screw it up!~

    Just as something, probably the wrong thing, was about to claw its way out of his throat, Yukina stepped up and executed a graceful, low bow.  “Elders,” she said respectfully.  “I have come to ask a favor.”

    The center of the seven replied, in a deep, feminine voice, “Yukina, Hina’s daughter.  You bring men into our village, a thing that is against our laws.  By what right do you ask indulgence?”

    The black-haired Tantei saw her flinch slightly—she’d been expecting this, no doubt.  “I had no choice, honored Elders,” she said, and to her credit, her voice did not waver.  “They were sent to accompany me by the great Koenma-daiyo, son of Enma-sama, ruler of the Reikai.  It is on his behalf that I ask this boon.”

    Yusuke held his breath as they appeared to consider this, exchanging mysterious glances among themselves though not speaking.  He felt slightly relieved that he hadn’t had to take the initiative; indeed, he might not have to at all.  Kurama was there as backup for Yukina if she needed it.  He looked over at the redhead—Kurama seemed utterly unperturbed.

    ~That’s a relief.  If he’s not worried, things’ll be fine.  I just hope he knows what he’s doing, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t have a clue.~

    After an eternity during which Yusuke began to wonder how long it was possible to go without air, one of the elders spoke again, this time the one on the leftmost end.  “Very well, Yukina.  You may ask, though compliance is by no means assured.”

    Yusuke’s breath whooshed out, just short of audibly, and he gulped more air as his starved lungs complained.  No one appeared to notice, though Kurama’s eyebrow quirked as he glanced over.

    “There is an artifact belonging to the Reikai that Koenma-daiyo believes is in your possession.  He merely asks that this artifact be returned to him.”

    “And what is this artifact of which you speak?”

    Here Yukina stalled, unsure of what to say, and Kurama stepped forward.  “If I may, honored Elders,” he said smoothly.  “I realize that you have little love for men, but the honored Yukina-san is not fully aware of the details.  Will you allow me to speak on her behalf?”

    The center koorime arched a delicate brow, somehow conveying vast, expressive distaste.  “And you are?”

    To Yusuke’s surprise, the calm, composed redhead almost seemed to wilt a little under her gaze, and his voice, when he finally spoke, was defeated.  “I am called Kurama, esteemed Elder,” he replied, speaking directly to her in response rather than the group of them as a whole.  Yusuke almost expected him to include that he was the famed thief Youko, though that would hardly have been intelligent.  “I am in the employ of the great Koenma-daiyo and his exalted father, Enma-sama.”  He paused once more, then sighed heavily.  “I humble myself before you in my unworthy state, and ask forgiveness for the temerity of my request.  I withdraw it.”

    The detective nearly choked.  ~Withdraw?!  What the hell does he mean, withdraw?!  We need him, dammit!~

    But that specific response seemed to placate the elders, and after another silent conference the third from the left replied, “You shall be permitted to speak, but only on those things that Yukina cannot.”

    Yusuke finally relaxed fully as Kurama curtly related the particulars.  ~If he can maneuver them into letting him talk so easily, he’s got his work cut out for him.  Thank the gods.~

    He let what followed pass largely unnoticed as he cast about with his gaze, trying to see if the artifact might be in this room.  He trusted Kurama to handle things from there.

* * *

    Kurama, on the other hand, was quite perturbed, contrary to Yusuke’s assessment.  He had so little to work with that it made even him nervous—if Koenma had told them how the koorime had come into possession of the artifact, or even hinted at its appearance, he might have been more confident, but this was a dance of words that left him precariously close to slipping up.  Protocol was of the utmost importance here, deference an art, placation and flattery interweaving like melody with harmony.

      Keeping up the conversation, he activated multitasking skills long unused and began to cast about with his gaze for objects that could possibly be their target, relying on minute muscle control to make each eye movement almost imperceptible.  He immediately ran up against two problems:  one, he didn’t have the slightest clue what to look for, and two, there didn’t seem to be anything in the room at all besides them and the elders.

    ~So—perhaps they have it.~

    He studied the women as unobtrusively as possible.  They weren’t exact clones of one other, he noted; there were subtle differences, although he supposed that could be because they had made different choices in life.  The one on the far left end had angular shadows in her cheeks, and looked worn around the edges, as if she were under too much stress; the one next to her seemed less noticeable in an odd sort of way; the third from the left had softer eyes and seemed nearly as gentle as Yukina.  Each one had a remote variation that made them easier to identify as individuals—but the one in the center was the one that caught his attention.

    The youngest-looking one of the seven, she reminded him of Yusuke’s friend Keiko in a strange way, though this powerful woman was no young girl.  She wore the same fine kimono as the others, a combination of silver and powder-blue with a lovely scarlet obi, but around her neck was a necklace; the cord looked like woven silver, and the pendant was a half-globe of faceted amber that seemed curiously burnt and ragged around the edges.

    ~Ah.  There it is—I can feel its power now that I’ve seen it.  Excellent.~

    With an invisible smirk, he turned his full attention on his words, and the negotiation began in earnest.

* * *

    Koenma let loose a ripe oath that made George’s eyes go wide and threw his remote control across the office.  It struck the wall with a satisfying swack and clattered to the floor, where it was instantly forgotten as the godling cast about for something else to fling in his ire.

    “I’M SICK OF THIS!” he hollered for the third time, his voice cracking as it hit volumes several decibels above its normal capacity.  He knew he’d have a sore throat for weeks after this tirade, but at the moment he didn’t care.  “I’m SICK of ALWAYS being DISOBEYED!  I’m the KAMI here, you’d think I’D know best, but Enma forbid anyone actually LISTEN to me!”

    His questing hands found yet another miscellaneous object, which joined the rapidly growing collection of banged-up odds and ends on the floor by the far wall.

    “I FINALLY get him to agree, and then he RUNS OUT ON ME!  How am I supposed to save the worlds if EVERYONE keeps DOING that?!”  With that, Koenma slumped down in his office chair, energy spent for the moment, and saw George edge closer tentatively.  “George,” he whined, “do you have any ideas?  I’m all out right now.”

    “You mean you’re actually asking for my opinion, sir?”  The oni sounded genuinely shocked by the notion.

    “Unfortunately, I’m currently that desperate.  Do you have any ideas or not?”

    George considered.  “Well, why don’t you just bring him back to life anyway?  I mean, if his body is realigned and the life energy is donated, why does it make a difference if he wants to or not?”

    Koenma glared.  “If it didn’t make a difference, do you think I would have spent all that time trying to convince him to agree?  Life energy and alignment don’t mean a thing if the will to live doesn’t exist.  Haven’t you ever heard of people willing themselves to death?”

    “Well, sort of . . .”

    “Well, a person who’s coming back to life has to will himself back, and I can’t do it for him.”  He sighed.  “Hiei’s just too stubborn.  He’ll never come back now.”

    “If I may ask, sir, why is he so important, anyway?” asked George inquisitively.  “If Kurama and Yusuke are working together, can’t they handle things?”

    This was the last straw, the cap to a truly terrible day.

    “DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND ANYTHING?!” Koenma exploded at his personal clerk, spittle making arcs across the room.  “Those two youkai Kurama was working for are DANGEROUS!  Even WITH Hiei, the Tantei might not be able to handle them alone, and if they lose then ALL THREE WORLDS ARE SCREWED!”

    The oni gaped, eyes as big as saucers, and nodded vigorously to show that no further bombardment was necessary.  Koenma, however, was not mollified.

    “And it’s all HIEI’S FAULT!”

    SWACK.

    Beep.

    “Sir, your mirror is going off!”

* * *

    It seemed an age before Kurama finally slowed, his pulse automatically quieting in response to his change of pace.  He halted near a large tree and waited for the others to catch up.

    Yusuke came into view first, breath huffing out in little intermittent puffs of vapor like a ningen steam engine.  The boy skidded to a stop, creating long furrows in the slushy snow, and immediately put his back to the nearest tree-trunk, sliding down to sit in the wet and focus on catching his breath.  Just behind him were Kuwabara and Yukina; the former dragged the latter along by her hand, as she seemed to be frozen in a state of static horror and disbelief and was incapable of autonomous movement.  They, too, sat and panted for air.

    “Well,” Yusuke said, still breathing hard, “that was exciting.”  He tossed a glance at Kuwabara.  “She awake yet?”

    “Shut up, Urameshi!” Kuwabara hollered at him.  “She’s upset, okay?  We just stole something from her elders!”

    “Well they wouldn’t give it to us, so what were we supposed to do?”

    “I don’t know!  Something else!”

    Kurama grinned openly at the two bickering fighters, who were regaining their normal oxygen intake far more quickly this way than by just sitting, and clenched his clawed fist around the small amber object.  In truth, he was rather pleased with the way the theft had gone off; he would have liked to have more time to plan it, but all in all it had been most effective.

    Yusuke, of course, had provided him with a much-needed distraction—though Kurama regretted the demolishing of that lovely ice architecture.  Thankfully, the property damage had been minimal, considering the circumstances.  He had taken advantage of the confusion to purloin the necklace from the elder’s neck without her even registering his presence, and they had escaped with all due haste, pursued by a pack of angry, bow-wielding archers.

    Though his youko side still preened with glee at the success, his more diplomatic half was still sighing over the necessity.  All had gone well, until he had named the specific object—and discovered that it had been a peace-gift from a powerful demonness.  As such, the panel of elders had unanimously agreed it could not be parted with, and all his attempts at renegotiation had been for naught.  A desperate glance at Yusuke, and, well—that was how it had gone.

    “WELL IT’S TOO LATE NOW!” Yusuke roared, cutting off further protest and incidentally echoing Kurama’s thoughts.  “There’s no way to go back and fix it, so we might as well just take the thing to Koenma so we can all go home!”  As Kuwabara lapsed into sullen silence, the coal-haired detective turned to Kurama.  “Do you still have your communication mirror on you?  Mine got snow in it and I think it’s busted.”

    Kurama nodded woodenly, mind now caught up in a very different train of thought.  ~Koenma.~  He snarled inwardly, youko memories offering him many methods of revenge, all suitable for traitors of the highest degree; he had to force them down, remind himself that it was not that simple, that he couldn’t just kill or torture Koenma for what he had done.  ~I’m not going back there.  Never.  If I go back, I’ll kill him.~

    “Whoa, whoa, did I say something wrong?”

    Yusuke’s voice brought him back to sanity, and he realized that his fists were clenched as if he were about to rip into his friend.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “Here.”  He handed Yusuke the mirror, steadfastly ignoring the puzzled concern directed his way.

    There was a slight beep as the mirror was flipped open.  “Hey Botan, you there?”

    “I’m not Botan, you ignoramus.  What is it now?”

    Yusuke blinked into the screen.  “Koenma?  Since when do you answer the mirror?”

    “Stop wasting my time and just tell me what you want!”

    “Oi, chill out, I was just asking.  We’ve gotten that magical thingy of yours back.  At least, we think so.”

    “Good!”  Slightly surprised delight had entered the highly irritable voice coming through over the tiny speaker.  “What’s it look like?”

    “A shiny yellow jewel thing.  That’s the right thing, right?”  Warning crept into Yusuke’s tone, as if daring Fate to screw them over once more.

    “Of course it is!  You’ve done well—bring it back to me at once!  Botan will be with you shortly.”

    “Can do.  Be there in a bit.”  His voice changed abruptly, becoming steely hard.  “And then, we’ll talk.”

    Yusuke closed the communicator with a soft click, cutting off the startled yelp, and turned to hand it back to Kurama.

    Kurama wasn’t paying attention; instead, he stared into Yusuke’s eyes so intensely that the youngster flinched back.  “I’m not going with you, you know,” he said, heading off the inevitable question.

    “Say what?” Kuwabara interjected.  He was ignored.

    Yusuke instantly recognized that he was serious.  “But can you afford not to?”

    Kurama tossed his head, his youko half projecting utter disdain.  “Koenma can punish me as he likes—if he can catch me.  He betrayed me, Yusuke, and I do not take betrayal lightly.”

    A nod.  “I understand.  Just try to stay in touch, all right?”

    “I will.”  Kurama let his eyes and his expression soften just the tiniest fraction; he would miss the close, easy companionship.  “Be well, Yusuke.  Make sure my kaasan doesn’t worry.”

    And with that, he vanished into the frozen forest, leaving not even a footmark in the snow to show that he had ever been in the clearing.

    Night was falling.

* * *

    It was a distinctly surreal experience, flying over the forests of the Makai like some fantastic, invisible bird.  Few of the youkai he encountered were able to sense his presence at all, and none did more than look over their shoulders nervously as if feeling an unexplained draft.  He passed places both familiar and foreign on his way.

    It was just like his life in the Makai:  forever watching his back, scanning with his senses for pursuit, flitting about with all his speed and agility and never staying in one place for long.  That he did not require sleep was an asset; that he fled from his Reikai prison rather than other youkai, of no consequence.  The same instincts that had availed him well in life did likewise now.

    It bothered him somewhat that he seemed to be skulking for nothing—as yet there had been no sign that he was being followed or tracked.  Then again, that monitor in Koenma’s office might make it a moot point; Hiei had no idea whether it could home in on him if his precise location was not known.  He chose to believe it could not, and continued to keep up his erratic path to throw off his (literally) phantom pursuers.

    One facet of being dead was irking him, however—his inability to sense ki.  This handicap forced him to systematically search every inch of forest, cutting into precious time that he did not have to spare, and he grew more irritated by the hour.  ~Where is that blasted fox?  Of all the times for him to be finally hiding himself properly—~  Not to mention that the thrice-damned forest seemed a lot smaller when viewed from above than it actually was.

    Something—he could only call it an instinct—caused him to slow, then stop, hovering over a dense thicket of snow-blanketed pine trees.  It was well into the night by now.  This was terrain he knew all too well; koorime country.  ~He would be here of all places,~ Hiei grumbled, swooping down low to phase through the canopy.

    Kurama was asleep beneath a tall tree, curled up catlike in the hollow created by the tree’s root system.  A stray beam of moonlight that managed to pierce the thick cover played on his silver tresses, and his ears twitched in his sleep like a kitten’s.

    Hiei stared at the slumbering kitsune for a long time, watching each intake of breath, each quirk of the fuzzy ears, each minute movement that signalled life.  A strange emotion kept him immobile.  It was as if he were suddenly filled with intense happiness for no reason, and moving might fracture it like pressure on too-thin ice.

    Finally, shaking his head and smiling faintly, he settled onto the ground cross-legged beside his once-companion.  “Hello, fox,” he whispered, and plunged into Kurama’s dream world.

* * *

    Formless flashes coalesced in his vision, forming a soft, rosy brilliance that was not light; he couldn’t be certain what it was.  It felt comforting in an obscure way.  He smiled as calm descended like a fog.

    Then things changed.  The not-light began to shift, into true light—into sunlight.  Trees waved to the motion of a cool breeze, casting dappled shadows on the downy grass, and the odd songbird let loose a gay trill into the fragrant air of high noon.

    Kurama blinked.  He was in the park.

    “You look lost, fox.”

    He spun, looking about for the owner of the voice, and spotted a dark-clad figure leaning casually against the trunk of a shady tree.  “Hiei!”

    The Jaganshi smirked, pushing away to step into the sunlight.  He was dressed in his customary black cloak, but his katana was absent from his side.  “I see your gift for the obvious is intact.”

    Kurama ran to him, heart bursting with joy, reaching out to grip his shoulder—and stopped, his outstretched hand hovering in midair as he realized.  “This is a dream, isn’t it?”  He let the hand drop, struggling with his emotions.  It seemed so real, as if any moment, Yusuke would appear and tell him it had all been an elaborate practical joke; that Hiei wasn’t dead after all.

    Hiei shrugged indifferently.  “So what if it is?  I’m here, aren’t I?”

    Kurama paused, remembering.  ~Yusuke said a dead person’s spirit can enter the dreams of a living person.  So this really is Hiei!~  “Yes,” he replied simply, gentle tears stinging his eyes even as he smiled.  “I’ve missed you more than you can know.”

    “And—I you,” Hiei replied quickly, as if getting the words out of the way as fast as possible, a faint blush decorating his pale face.  He looked away awkwardly for a moment, and Kurama had to resist the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to embrace him.  ~Dead or not, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it.~

    “Yusuke misses you as well,” he said instead.  “Even Kuwabara—and especially Yukina.  She still does not know.”

    Hiei grunted, but his gaze softened.  “Hn.  Just as well.”  He gave Kurama an abrupt, piercing look, then asked carefully, “How are you?”

    This was so banal, so utterly un-Hiei that the kitsune almost took a step back, studying the youkai uncertainly before answering, “I’m well, more or less.  What—what about you?”

    “Well enough for being dead.”  Hiei actually laughed.  “It’s not quite what I was hoping for, but not too bad.  I should have asked Yusuke about it first.”

    He said it so cavalierly that Kurama flinched and dropped his gaze, tears clogging his throat.  He wanted desperately to ask Hiei why, to know the reason for his friend’s self-murder, but was afraid of the answer he might receive.  He was terribly certain that it was his fault for leaving, and he couldn’t bear to hear those words of condemnation from Hiei’s lips.

    The half-koorime seemed to read his thoughts, and snorted derisively, startling Kurama into looking up at him.  “Stop blaming yourself, baka.  It had nothing to do with you.  I was sick and tired of being alive, and having to be around the fool constantly didn’t help; I could just as easily have killed him instead, but everyone seemed to think that was a bad idea.”  He laughed again, his tone acquiring a ring of self-mockery.  “It turns out it would have landed me in jail either way.”

    Words made it past the lump in Kurama’s throat.  “Jail?  What do you mean?”

    “Koenma had me thrown in Reikai prison until I agreed to return to life.”  His voice dripped venom.  “I considered killing him, but it didn’t seem worth the effort.”

    “Then—you’re going to come back?”

    Hiei glared at him in disgust.  “Do you really think I’d do that after all the trouble I went through to die?  Don’t be an idiot.  I escaped.”

    Burgeoning hopes fluttered and died, replaced by a deeper sadness and some alarm.  “You could be sentenced to eternity for breaking jail, Hiei!  It isn’t safe for you to be here—they’ll catch you for certain!”

    “Do you think I care?” Hiei retorted.  “Why do you think I’m here?  For a casual chat?”

    Kurama was taken aback.  “Well, I—”

    The fire youkai cut him off.  “I’m here because I knew you’d be sitting around like a lump, blaming yourself for the least little problem, and you’d need me to knock some sense into your baka head.  If you don’t pay attention to yourself for once instead of worrying about everything else, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

    As Kurama stood watching, slightly stunned, Hiei tilted his head back to look at the sky.  “There’s something big coming, fox.  I don’t know what it is—but you do, and I advise you to remember not to drop your guard.  After finding out what death is like, the last thing I want is for you to be stuck here with me.”  He dropped his gaze to capture Kurama’s, giving him a rare, playful smile.

    The kitsune couldn’t stop tears from rising again, and they cast subtle rainbows in the light as they rolled over his cheeks.  “Why, Hiei,” he managed, trying to return the playfulness despite the tears, “I didn’t know you cared.”

    Where Kurama would have expected a simple “Hn”, or at least a denial, Hiei rolled his eyes.  “That’s because you’ve always been a stupid fox.  Stupid foxes believe too much of what they hear.  If I didn’t care, why would I bother?”  The Jaganshi looked away again, a streak of red touching his cheeks once more.  “We share a bond, fox.  I don’t know why, but we do, so be sure that I’ll know the minute you do something foolish.  I don’t want to find out that I’ve wasted my time coming here.  Stay alive.”

    And with that, he turned his back, and walked off into the trees.

    “Wait!”  Kurama stumbled into a run, tripping on a tuft of grass that seemed to rise up in his path.  “Hiei, wait!  I haven’t—I didn’t—”

    But the thin black form had melted into the shadows, and the kitsune couldn’t see him anymore.  The ground beneath him was shifting, dissolving into muted shimmers of that terrible not-light, and he fell . . .

    What he saw next was nothing more than snowy, shadowy forest, the trees forbidding and dark in Makai’s night.

    Kurama reached up and brushed a vermilion hair from his eyes, smiling faintly when his hand encountered dampness.  He could almost hear Hiei teasing him gently about his tears as he drifted off into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

~tbc~

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