InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Heart Within ❯ Chapter Twenty-Three ( Chapter 25 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Inuyasha or Yu Yu Hakusho. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.THE HEART WITHINSummary: She has carried vengeance in her shadowed heart for 500 years, sacrificing her self for that dream. Now, Sango just might get her chance… (IY/YYH crossover) A/N: Whew! It’s been a while, but I decided to meld two chapters into one, so you get a longer chapter to make up for the long wait. =) Thank you, everyone, for your continued reviews. They really keep me encouraged to continue this little story. (Fate)
WARNING! SPOILERS FOR YYH BLACK AND THE THREE KINGS SAGA, IY EPISODE “ONLY YOU, SANGO”

WORDS

daimyo - feudal lord
baka - idiot
Taiyoukai - demon lord

Chapter Twenty-Three

Closing her eyes and lying back so that her head rested against the smooth rock behind her, Sango sighed as the warm water sloshed around her. The tight muscles along her neck and shoulders ticked a few times before the heat of the hot springs penetrated enough for them to relax. She luxuriated in the feeling of liquid warmth all around her, letting it envelop her tired body and turn both her muscles and mind to mush. For the first time in far too long, she could simply let herself be, and it felt wonderful.

No wonder Kagome had loved hot springs. Her fondness for taking any excuse to dip in one had at first unnerved Sango, who had grown up in an era where regular bathing was considered a sure way to die. Damp clothing that took too long to dry could cause chills and fevers, which during those times meant death more often than not. But after Kagome had explained that dirt and infection could be prevented with simple cleanliness and boiling water to sanitize the area of germs, than Sango had seen the benefit. And after spending three years in the modern girl’s company, she had grown accustomed and even neurotic about regular bathing.

Opening her eyes, Sango smiled. Funny, but she had not really understood Kagome’s description of germs and bacteria. Back then, she could only equate them to tiny youkai---like flea demons, only worse---and that had been enough to convince her of the girl’s veracity. She knew now, of course, what germs were, but it was funny just how naïve she had been all those years ago.

The world had been such a simple place then, and her place within it even simpler. That had all changed, of course, after Naraku came. After that, nothing had ever been simple again.

Sango sighed, a line forming between her brows as she frowned unhappily. She wished, sometimes, that she could think of the past and not have it hurt or turn sour. There was such pain mixed up in all of it that she usually kept a tight lid on any of her memories, even the good ones---like her naïve belief in germy youkai, or when Miroku had first kissed her. It had been so sweet---a gentle press of his lips to hers. There had been none of the groping or urgency she had thought would happen when he did finally kiss her. She had been in such shock that his eyes had warmed with amusement. He had cupped her cheek in his bead-wrapped palm and kissed her again, mapping her lips with his but with that same light, gentle touch---as if he was stretching the moment out to savor it for all time.

Rough fingertips lightly touching her lips, Sango closed her eyes, refusing to let the tears that gathered there fall. She had shed enough tears for Houshi-sama, until her soul had been raw with the unending pain of it. She had vowed never to cry again, feeding her aching loneliness into the bitterness and hatred she had for the evil hanyou who had taken her love from her---taken everything from her, really. And that bitter hatred fueled the burning rage that kept her alive all this time. And she had not cried, not really---though she refused to consider the countless mornings she had awoken with her pillow damp under her cheek.

Sango stirred uncomfortably, wrinkling the placid surface of the water around her with the restless movement. The only reason she was thinking about Miroku’s first kiss was because he had been the only guy to ever kiss her---Lord Takeda notwithstanding. Kuranosuke Takeda’s kiss did not count. That had been an awkward misunderstanding as she turned her head away at the last minute, so that his wet lips had landed mostly on her cheek. He had been effusively apologetic and Sango had felt terrible about the whole incident. Stammering that it was her fault and giving her lame apologies, she had been more anxious to get away from him than in trying it again, as he was so intent on doing.

Thankfully, they had left not long after, and she had never seen him again. She wondered idly if the daimyo had eventually settled down with someone. Probably his clan had forced him to, and to someone with a substantial dower, as the clan’s coffers had been rather depleted. Takeda’s father had invested too much of his coin in bear tokens that had not sold well. Sango chuckled at the memory. Poor Kuranosuke. He had meant well, and his infatuation, while not returned, had given her at the time a badly needed reminder that she could be both a warrior and a woman.

Something she had not been for some time. Centuries, actually, for she had not let herself. Oh, there had been those from time to time who had made known their interest to get to know her better---to learn the woman behind the warrior. But Sango had turned an icy disdain on those bold enough to ask and that particular tactic had shielded her well. Her reputation among King Yama’s household garrisons had been formidable enough to keep such unwanted attentions away for the past hundred years or more, so that she had grown a bit rusty at deflecting unwanted advances...

She froze, hearing a noise that didn’t belong. Fingers automatically plucking free the small knife she had tucked into her loose bun, Sango warily regarded the silent woods around her. Not so much as a single leaf stirred, for the day was still and warm. Seitei had promised her privacy, and while she trusted the blind monk, she wasn’t so sure of the others. It had been rather foolish of her to drop her guard like that. She really should clean herself up and get herself out. There were plenty of others waiting to use the hot springs, for they were the only bathing facilities the fortress sported. Seitei had mentioned that a lot of the buildings had fallen into disrepair over the last century, as none of the warrior-monks had any real practical training. Aesthetic as they were in tastes and lifestyle, they didn’t see maintaining the indoor plumbing as all that important.

It was sad, really. This must have once been an impressive city. Although primitive by modern standards of plumbing and electricity, the stonework was both functional and sinuously graceful in its simplicity. The buildings appeared seamless, as if poured into being from whatever mold the original architects had designed. While time and neglect had taken their toll on many of them, there were hints of their former glory. Many had been made with different heights and needs in mind---probably a reflection on the diverse nature of demon-kind.

The city had never been more than a fortress, though. Form and function played more in its construction than appeal or luxury. Each of the seamless stone pillars could only be reached by a single door, which could be solidly barred at need, and the windows were mere slits where arrows or other items could be thrown out. Sango wondered how many wars the city had seen in its ancient environs, and how many times it had been laid siege to. She might never know, for she was too shy to ask Seitei---if the busy monk even had the time.

Aware how time was passing, Sango quickly, though thoroughly, washed herself, keeping one eye on the quiet forest around her as she did so. It was wonderful to get her hair clean, even if the shampoo looked a little old and dubious. It was overly perfumed with the scent of some strange flower, one that vaguely reminded her of some of King Yama’s concubines. Summoning a bit of the wind to help dry her hair helped dissipate the heavy fragrance, though it still lingered faintly around her.

Sango shrugged. She could hardly be picky. Her own supplies had run out quite a while ago and she didn’t know if she could buy more somewhere. They hadn’t encountered any towns or convenience stores, and she wondered if Makai really was like the modern world, though Jin had hinted as much. At least she had a clean robe to wear, another courtesy provided by Seitei. It was really thoughtful of him, as she had brought nothing with her but the clothes on her back. Those were currently being laundered along with the others’; yet another nice gesture on the part of their impromptu hosts.

Sango shook her head, baffled by how well they were being treated. The monks seemed to take their continued presence in stride. They had been rather nonchalant about the various wounds---some of them quite nasty---they had suffered at the group’s hands, when Yusuke had first confronted his ancestral father and she and the others had fought their way up the tower to Raizen’s throne room. She had never seen anything like it---though it could be the fact that the King had basically ordered they be made welcome as long as they chose to stay. And since it appeared to all intents and purposes that Yusuke had come to some kind of strange truce with the powerful Toushin and seemed in no hurry to leave, their continued presence in the city was taken for granted.

The fact that there was no antagonism, though, was just plain disturbing. It was as if Raizen’s men held no rancor for a battle well-fought, when there should have been some kind of reaction other than the quiet acceptance of their King’s decision. Maybe it was just a demon thing. Lord knows that even the nastiest wounds, short of a death-blow, could heal if given enough time. And none of the monks had died---though one or two had come close, thanks to Hiei. But there seemed no animosity between the two groups, even on her friends’ part, and she frankly didn’t understand it.

Like everything in Makai, it left her wondering if anything she knew as truth actually was. She didn’t like that uncertainty and was uncomfortable with the realization that she might not.

Knotting the simple white cloth around her, Sango fussed with the gaping neckline, for the robe was a bit too big. She stared at the murky, spider-shaped bruise between her breasts. Centered over the thin, white line of scar tissue that was all that was left to remind her of Shigure’s surgery, it had appeared not long after Kagura’s heart had been implanted within her. Sango loathed it for it was like, and yet unlike, the spider that had been tattooed on Naraku’s and his various incarnations’ backs. It was an ugly reminder of her most hated enemy, and symbolized her very real fear that Naraku might still have some hold on Kagura’s heart, and thus her. The remote possibility that it could made her blood turn to ice. But in the five-hundred years since the spider had appeared, it had never done anything but remind her of both her worst fears and her fondest, darkest hopes of finally attaining vengeance on the baboon-cloaked bastard.

It wasn’t always this dark a hue. Sometimes it would fade to a lavender birth mark, the spider’s outline indistinct. At others, like now, when her skin was still flushed from the heat of the hot springs, it would appear almost black, the shape distinct and ugly. She had never been overly conscious of her looks, but that hideous scar---after so many, since the ones she had received as a human woman had remained, only new ones healed with no marks after---was more than just a symbol of Naraku’s taint and her fear of it. It was a poignant reminder that she was not a woman who could care about such things, but only a warrior, a weapon, to wreak vengeance on those who had once borne it.

It was a hideous testament to what she was and what she could never be. Why she cared, though, that made her feel unworthy and shallow.

And yet still she did.

*I’m being ridiculous. I just want my own clothes back. I don’t like being dependent on someone else---even for a bath-robe.* She smiled faintly at her ingratitude and picked up her sheathed sword.

Only to have it free and held at the ready a second later as she whirled, her eyes flashing red at the sudden flare of jyaki behind her. Her spiritual sense screamed and she silently cursed, wondering how the Toushin had managed to hide his incredible aura from her so that he could take her unawares.

The razor-sharp length of steel glittered a bare millimeter from alongside the Toushin’s throat as she glared up at him. If he so much as moved, he would be shorter by one rather hairy head. Her steady arm and narrowed gaze told him as much, although he appeared rather unimpressed by the clear warning.

If she gave her mind time enough to really think about that fact, than she would lose her nerve, so she didn’t. “What do you want?” she spat, a red glitter to her brown eyes.

“Does he love you?”

“What?” His question took her completely by surprise, enough so that her sword dropped a fraction, though she quickly recovered it as his intense gaze locked with hers. The look in his eyes froze her blood, but she allowed none of her fear to show, keeping her arm rigid and her expression defiant.

“Huh.” A smirk curved the demon’s wide mouth, and he seemed amused as he looked down at her. Standing a good seven feet, he towered over her, his long, white hair wild all about him. Ruggedly handsome in both form and face, he looked capable of killing her with the casual flick of one long claw, let alone his bare hands. Sango refused to be intimidated, though, and stood her ground.

They stood like that for quite some time, until her arm started tingling from the strain of holding her sword up and still for so long. Sango ruthlessly thrust the pain away. He studied her, as if making up his own mind about something, and when he finally did, he disappeared.

Taken off-balance, she staggered forward a step. She looked around wildly, for his jyaki, though once more contained, was still there. It was a dark, ominous presence, like a storm sensed on the wind or a shadow seen out of the corner of her eye. She was ashamed to admit that she only sensed him behind her when he deliberately let a little more of his power go. Whirling around, she raised her sword, only to have it stopped by his casually pinching the naked blade between two clawed fingers. Her eyes widened, but she already had a knife free and twisted about to throw.

He laughed, then, a sound both raucous and delighted. “You’re young yet, girl, but quick. Given some time and training, you might even make a half-decent opponent.”

Infuriated by that sly remark, Sango’s eyes bled, but she collared her anger, knowing emotion would only get her killed. So as humiliating as it was, she accepted defeat and relaxed her stance minutely, though she still kept her guard up. This demon might be able to kill her any time he wanted to, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“You’re a prickly one, aren’t you?” Raizen smiled at her, pushing her sword away with a careless flick of his fingers. His offhand motion managed to wrench her arm as the blade swung wide. *Posturing bastard.* She didn’t particularly like him all that much, and was frankly unimpressed that he felt the need for it. *Typical arrogance for a male demon.*

Her scorn must have shown on her face, for he smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest in a casually dominant stance that reminded her all too eerily of Yusuke, for it was one of his favorites. The resemblance made her even more uneasy, rather than reassuring her. She kept her sword lowered but made no move to sheathe it or the knife still turned in her hand.

Raizen seemed hardly bothered by that fact. His eyes raked her with frank appraisal, the purple depths so dark they appeared black. His nose was even sharper in outline than Hokushin’s, and the dark blue tattoo on his left cheek stood out starkly against his tanned skin. His hair, as brilliantly white as the demon lord Sesshoumaru’s, was wilder than even Inuyasha’s, and barely contained by the yellow headwrap he used to keep it back. He exuded sensuality and brute male strength to a degree she had rarely seen, and many a woman would have found it attractive. But it actually had the opposite effect on her, making her even more wary and distrustful. There had been demons in plenty who had tried that typical ploy on her, but she wasn’t so easily bemused by such pathetic attempts to disarm her.

The blatant sexual allure was suddenly snapped off, and Sango’s eyes narrowed as he threw his head back and laughed, an annoying sound that rung throughout the glade. His eyes glinted as he grinned at her, this time with real warmth in the dark depths. She didn’t return it. Her suspicion and ire at his arrogance smoothed her face into a mask of icy disdain as she demanded, “What is it that you want, my lord?”

Raizen only smiled, his deep voice soft as he noted mildly, “You have her eyes.”

Sango’s eyes narrowed before comprehension dawned. It wasn’t that hard to figure out---Yusuke was, after all, the King’s son, if removed by several generations, and for that to have happened, than the demon king had to have lain with a human woman sometime in the past.

Being compared to the demon’s human lover didn’t sit too well with her, though, only making her even more tense and wary. He blithely continued, either unaware of her stiffness or not giving a damn---which was probably more the case, given his innate arrogance. “Though hers were blue, not brown. A beautiful blue, like the deepest sapphires…”

He seemed lost in memories and Sango stole the chance to step back. His head came up sharply, his nostrils expanding like a predator sniffing out its prey. That smirk was back. “You’re a bit warier than her. She had no fear or caution, of me or anything.”

“She’s dead,” Sango said flatly. To have no fear or caution was to be a fool who often got just what they deserved. She wondered if she had offended him, for he stilled, his eyes narrowing on her at the sharp reminder.

Surprisingly, he threw back his head and laughed again. It was just as irritatingly loud as before. He bellowed like a bull. He probably didn’t have to care how voluble he was---his arrogance would hold no room for discretion. She frowned in disgust. This demon’s centuries-long hunger strike had driven him completely insane. Sweaty palms tightening around the hilts she held, she swiftly backed away, summoning the wind to put even more distance between them.

Sango abruptly froze, her eyes widening as a razor-sharp claw delicately lifted her chin up. He stared down at her, his expression rather amused. One moment, he’d been standing there with his hands on his hips and his head thrown back in laughter as she retreated, the next he was directly in front of her, stopping her in her very tracks.

“I don’t know what your story is. To be honest, I don’t particularly care. But you are the first in a long, long time to remind me of my own personal tragedy---though you probably don’t care to hear that, either.” He grinned at her, his fangs sharp. His eyes were intense, belying the humor in the deep velvet of his voice. She could not look away.

“But I feel strangely impelled to tell you---though you can take my advice or not, I don’t really care one way or the other---that if you ever do find love, girl, than don’t let it slip through your claws, as I so foolishly did. Take whatever few moments the gods give you and don’t waste what little time you might ever have with them, for the only regret you’ll ever have is not taking the chance fate gives you.”

Sango flinched. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said hoarsely, for he had struck a nerve, a deep nerve, with his simple words. Jerking her chin free, she stumbled back away from him.

His smirk was tinged with self-derision, his eyes suddenly ancient and sad, though the expression was so brief she might have imagined it. His massive shoulders rippled in a shrug as he straightened, his eyes glinting as his lips quirked. “I don’t know why I even sought you out---except you reminded me of someone in my past, and I felt compelled to tell you not to make the same mistakes I did. You might think it simple demon arrogance---“ His eyes glinted, and Sango had the sudden sinking sensation that he had read her incriminating thoughts earlier. A demon of his strength and power probably took it for granted. She wondered uneasily what else he might have read there.

But he only shrugged again, the hard muscles across the wide length of him sharply defined by the casual movement. His voice was ironic, amused. He spared her one last smile, a gleam in his wicked eyes. “Perhaps it’s just the vanity of a dying man. Perhaps you’ll even humor him.”

And then he was gone, leaving her to stare at the empty spot in confused apprehension as her brows drew together. The wind rose, a mournful, lonely sound in its breath, and she shivered, her heart thudding loud in her ears as ice trickled down her spine. Dry leaves, spun up by the wind, rustled against each other, and she hugged herself, her brown eyes shadowed and distant as she looked unseeingly on the glade around her.


Inuyasha hated waiting. There was nothing more boring than sitting in a tree waiting for Kagome to get home from that stupid school she insisted on finishing. The miko had always been rather stubborn about it, and while there was truly no more reason for her not to go, Inuyasha still kept up the argument because…well…he missed her. Not that he was ever going to tell her that. She might start getting Ideas.

Not that she didn’t already know damn well just how much he loved her. But if he gave her even a single inch, that girl would take it for a mile, or however the stupid human saying went. Old Creaky---Kagome’s grandfather---had explained it to him once. The old man had nattered on and on but Inuyasha had gotten the gist of his sage advice on women within five seconds. It was good advice, too, though Mama Higurashi had shaken her head at her father, looking amused. She had told Inuyasha to follow his heart, and the rest would always work itself out.

That sounded nice in theory, but Inuyasha wasn’t one to sit back and wait. Except that was exactly what he was doing right now, damn it.

Drumming his claws against his crossed arms, Inuyasha frowned. He had never understood girls, especially Kagome. Like how she had said so sweetly that if he ever came and fetched her from school again she would sit him right into next week. Just because he had taken exception to that stupid Hojo-boy giving her orthopedic sandals and made it clear once and for all to that baka that he would rip out his jugular if he ever dared do it again. Damn it all, Kagome was his mate---or would be, once all this school stuff was done---and you didn’t stand around letting strange human boys smelling all aroused like that go sniffing around your future mate! Why, he had never let Kouga get away with that shit, and Kagome had always acted all flattered over it. Though, come to think about it, she had also sat him plenty of times for defending her from that mangy wolf.

Souta was right. Girls were weird.

What was taking her so long, anyways? She was usually good about getting her butt home, since she knew he would be anxiously waiting for her. Well, not anxiously, exactly, but damn it, where was she? It didn’t take this long to walk from her school. He’d timed it down to the second, even counting the steps she would take. Not for any particular reason---just because he was bored when she wasn’t around. Grandpa only let him do so many chores around the temple, and he hadn’t really put much thought into what he might want to do yet. Mama Higurashi was teaching him a little at home, making him sit down and read some of Kagome’s old textbooks. It was dull, and he didn’t like it, but this time wasn’t like the Feudal Era, where he could just go stake out a territory, build a house and provide for Kagome with his claws and his sword. Things were more complicated here, and it took time to get used to.

Not that he really had to worry about providing for Kagome. He had plenty of the paper money the humans valued so much, and that stuff could provide a lot, or so Kagome had told him. She‘d been awed by just how much of it he had, thanks to Sesshoumaru.

Now that had been a shock---that Sesshoumaru was not only still living, and in the Ningenkai, but that he had changed enough over the intervening centuries to at least make a token acknowledgement of their shared inu blood. While he was still a snobby bastard who had little love for his younger half-brother, he had felt duty-bound to sign over what amounted to a fortune in human terms. The letter that had accompanied the trust fund’s representative had been terse, only saying that the Taiyoukai had now discharged the last of his obligations, and that Inuyasha was on his own, to fail as he may. That last jab had been pure spite, letting Inuyasha know that no matter what, Sesshoumaru’s personal feelings regarding him were still the same.

He had to be grateful to the ass hole, though, because it not only took the worry for her daughter’s future with a rough barbarian of a hanyou from Mama Higurashi’s mind, but it helped fix up the family shrine, which subsisted on donations for the most part. And worse than that, he had to be grateful for the fact that Sesshoumaru had found and rescued Shippou all those years ago, when he had taken a dying Kagome down the well and it closed after them. They had thought all their friends had died in that last battle. Kagome, herself, had been in a coma for weeks, having lost so much blood. Explaining her condition had taken some fancy lying on Grandpa’s part, but the old fart was pretty good at it by now.

The real shocker was just how old Shippou was. The little runt was now older than Inuyasha, for what had been a few months to the hanyou was over five hundred years to the fox. The whiny brat he had known was now a handsome youkai with kids, for gawd’s sake. And crazier still was that pig-tailed brat Sesshoumaru had picked up in the Sengoku Jidai was the kitsune’s mate, and both of them lived near Sesshoumaru in some place half-way around the world called Canada. Although they hadn’t visited yet---as the kits were in school, just like Kagome---there had been many phone calls back and forth between Kagome and the two as they played “catch up.” There were plans for them to come visit during the next break, whatever that was, and Kagome could hardly contain her excitement.

Inuyasha hated to be indebted to anyone, especially his stupid brother, but the joy in Kagome’s eyes when she realized that one of their friends, at least, had survived that horrendous battle---well, damn it, he could forgive the condescending jerk a lot for taking the kit in. And although it would be weird to see Shippou and Rin all grown up with brats older than the fox had been when last he’d seen him, well…he was glad, too, that it had ended happily for them.

Now, if only Kagome would hurry her ass up, than he might be able to steal a little time with her before her mother had dinner ready and Kagome got distracted with all her stupid homework. What the hell was taking her so long? He’d better go check, just in case something had happened to her. No matter how many sits she gave him, he’d feel worse if something did and he wasn’t there to protect her.

Decision made, Inuyasha leapt out of the tree and hit the ground running. The sidewalk was too damn crowded, so he made good use of the stinky cars driving by on the street. Leaping from one metal roof to the other, he ignored the squeal of tires and indignant shouts of surprise behind him as he hop-scotched through traffic, attention focused on finding the beautiful, annoying girl who had so thoroughly stolen his heart and his sense.

He finally saw her, standing just outside her school and somewhat hidden by the corner she had been backed into along the rough stone wall. His amber eyes narrowed as a growl rumbled in his throat, for Kagome was being accosted by some huge brute of a boy with bright orange hair. He just knew it! Turn his back for one damn minute and all kinds of perverts started crawling out of the woodwork to harass his poor miko! Well, he was gonna show that big oaf just how stupid he was for picking on his Kagome. He was going to cram that ugly mug right into the back of his skull with one damn fist---

“Inuyasha!” Kagome shrieked, dropping her books and the papers she’d been extending to the boy, startled as he abruptly appeared beside her.

“Don’t worry, Kagome, I’m now here to protect you,” Inuyasha growled, pushing the girl back behind him with one arm while he glowered up at the ugly jerk.

“Hey! Who do you think you are, buddy? You don’t go pushing girls around like that---” the boy had the temerity to say, before he paused, his black eyes narrowing as he did a sudden double-take. “Wait a minute! You’re a demon!”

Quirking a thick black brow, Inuyasha cracked his knuckles menacingly. “So? What of it?”

“What? How can you tell, Kuwabara? Inuyasha has his hat on---” Kagome popped over his shoulder and Inuyasha shrugged her back, not wanting her to get in the way.

“Hey!” the boy protested, his jaw squaring stubbornly as he glared back at the bristling hanyou. “I don’t like guys who think they can just push girls around, and I definitely don’t like demons who think they can, either. You better leave, right now, or I’m going to have to teach you a lesson in manners, demon.”

“You’re going to teach me a lesson? Just who the hell do you think you are, gorilla boy?” Inuyasha demanded.

The boy drew himself up to his full six-foot-three, his meaty arms crossing over his barrel of a chest as he glared down at the silver-haired hanyou. “I’m the great Kazuma Kuwabara, and I have a big sword!”

“Big sword, huh?” Inuyasha’s eyes glittered as his hand went to the tattered hilt of his Tetsusaiga.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome protested, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she stamped her foot. She glared at both of them, her brown eyes snapping as her ire rose. “Stop it, both of you! What are you thinking---”

“Don’t worry, Kagome. I’ll take care of this stupid demon. He won’t be bothering you any more,” the boy insisted even as Inuyasha growled, “Don’t worry, Kagome, this idiot’s going down!”

“I can’t believe this!” Kagome looked heavenward before pointing a finger at Inuyasha as the easiest to subdue. “Sit, boy!”

“Damn it, Kagome!” Inuyasha managed to curse just before the glowing beads around his neck jerked him face first into the ground. Thankfully, it was just grass he ate and not concrete. He forced his head up, his baseball cap slipping off as he scowled up at the unrepentant miko.

“Woah!” The boy’s mouth fell open in shock. And then he folded over, laughing hysterically as Inuyasha hacked up several blades of grass and a clod of dirt, his ears flattening to his head in distinct discomfort.

“Damn it, Kagome, why do you have to pull that shit all the time?”

“I told you, Inuyasha, that the next time you came to fetch me from school---”

“Fetch!” Kuwabara howled, overcome with glee.

“Shut up, carrot-head,” Inuyasha groused, gingerly sitting up and eying Kagome warily in case she decided that growl earned him another sit.

Kagome frowned. Arms folding over her chest, she pinned both of them with a dark eye that abruptly shut the braying buffoon up.

“Uh…” Kuwabara rubbed the back of his head, clearly uneasy with the slender girl’s glare as she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“Now. I think we have a few things to talk about, hmmm?” Kagome said too sweetly for the twitching of her eyebrow. Sprawling back on his ass, Inuyasha didn’t bother to hide his annoyance as he sighed gustily. He straightened when Kagome rounded on him, and met a rather sympathetic pair of black eyes over the girl’s shoulder as Kuwabara made a motion not to push it. Inuyasha felt a sudden surge of camaraderie for the big oaf and shrugged.

“I think the shrine would be a better place to talk, don’t you?” Kagome went on brightly as she gripped Kuwabara’s arm. “You should come for dinner, Kuwabara. My mom makes the best oden…”


The Toushin’s words sat heavily on Sango as she finally gathered her things up and made her way back to the silent stone monoliths of the city. She used one hand to pull the loose neck of her borrowed yukata closed at her throat in a modest gesture that was more to hide the dark stain of Naraku’s spider from her own sight. It was an acute reminder of what fate had brought her, and what fate was now hers. She had known love ever so briefly with Miroku and she had wasted what little time she’d had. Raizen had brought that poignant fact sharply home to her, though possibly not in the way he’d intended.

She welcomed the deserted silence of the city and barracks, grateful not to encounter anyone as she slipped quietly inside her room. The stark furnishings held nothing for her, and she was glad, for her emotions were too raw and near the surface. Putting her sword and knives away on the armor stand, she folded the towel she had used and managed to comb her hair with the brush provided with the other feminine accouterments thoughtfully supplied to her. The rhythmic motions of the brush were soothing to her troubled spirit and she gave herself up to it for a time.

The respite was shattered by a light tap on her door. Snapped back to reality rather abruptly, Sango demanded with more irritation than she wished, “Yes?”

“Lady Anei, it is Seitei. I apologize for disturbing you, but---”

Chastened, Sango quickly opened the door to the blind monk. He bowed, his smile warm as he extended her folded clothes, freshly laundered, by way of explanation.

“Thank you, Seitei.” Sango blushed for her rudeness, glad that the quiet warrior-monk could not see it.

“My pleasure,” the monk assured her. He bowed again. “If that is all you require, Anei-san, than I shall depart---”

A sudden thought seized Sango and she reached out a hand to stop him. His skin was warm under her fingers, and she flushed at the familiarity as she withdrew her hand. “Uh, actually, Seitei, I could use your help, if you have a few minutes to spare?”

“But of course,” he replied courteously as she opened the door wider to admit him. “How may I assist?”

“I have---a few questions. About the…other kings. Raizen’s rivals.” She wasn’t certain if Seitei would even answer her, but he was already settling himself amicably enough on the tatami-matted floor. She hesitated before kneeling down across from him.

He must have sensed her trepidation, for he smiled. “There are no stupid questions---only arrogance to think one knows better than to ever ask.”

Sango found herself smiling in return, the tension easing out of her shoulders. “You know, my father used to say something similar. He said, ‘Only a fool never seeks wisdom from others.’”

“An enlightened man, your father. Was he a sage or scholar?” Seitei asked, purely out of curiosity.

“No.” Sango frowned, uncomfortably aware that her father would not have considered seeking wisdom from a demon, of all things. Perhaps she gave him too little credit, though, for he had been rather unusual, even among his fellow slayers. Training his only daughter in the art of war, for one, was not something “done” in the strict, gender-biased traditions of the Sengoku Jidai.

Seitei waited patiently for her to come to the point. Pushing her loose hair back over her shoulder, Sango began tentatively, though the monk’s calm presence eased her more than he could know. “Hokushin told Yusuke that demon world was divided between three Taiyoukai. I was wondering if you could tell me more about the other two kings. I’m seeking a demon, one strong enough and ambitious enough that he could easily gain power over other youkai.”

Seitei remained silent. Sango nervously filled in her uneasiness by trying to explain her reasoning, something she normally didn’t bother with. “You see, I knew him many centuries ago, in human world. He was powerful enough, then, to be feared by many demons, even though he was only a hanyou. He had---aid. He could control others, manipulate and use them, and even absorb them into his body to make himself stronger. He was both sadistic and cruel, and lusted after ultimate power. We---almost defeated him---but he fled to Makai, taking someone---something---precious to me with him. No one seems to know anything about him, but I think he might be hiding his true identity. He is more than capable of changing form and appearance---he has done so many times in the past. I just cannot see him disappearing or fading into the background. Naraku was too strong and narcissistic for that.”

She fell into an awkward silence, wishing she could take back half of her faltering words. It was not like her to blather on like that, but Raizen’s words had brought home to her just how much time she had wasted in trying to track Naraku down. She felt fidgety, wanting to be off and doing, and for some reason, her typical cool control had deserted her. Maybe because this was so important.

Seitei revealed none of his thoughts, his face remaining as calm and serene as always. His hands lay loosely in his lap, his back absurdly straight though his Indian-style position spoke of relaxed contemplation. Finally, he spoke, and Sango drew a quiet breath at his words.

“There may be one who matches what you seek. He is a demon known for his singular cruelty and thirst for power. He embraces the chaos of demon world and relishes in others’ torment. His tyranny and despotism are despised, but his power is respected by even our own King. He has no love of humans and no one knows where he came from---only that he emerged from somewhere in the north, fighting and fermenting rebellion against the old lords, taking their lands and uniting them under his own rule. He has continued to grow in strength over the last few centuries, consolidating his power and control so that his territory rivals in size to that of our beloved King’s.

“No one has ever seen his face. Although he takes a human form, that is not his true form---as is quite normal for demons.”

Here he granted her a smile that made Sango shiver, for she knew full well how youkai often hid their true natures behind an unearthly beautiful face. She had often wondered why it was they chose to emulate those they despised so much.

“No one has seen his face?” she asked, leaning forward on her knees, her hands wrinkling the white fabric of her yukata as she gripped it in dawning excitement.

“No, for he wears protective bandages and sacred sutras to hide his features, all except for a single blue eye that peers out, almost absurdly round and bulging. It glows red in anger---”

“Bulging, blue…covered in bandages---as if he were once burned?”

Seitei regarded her gravely. “No one truly knows.”

“Onigumo…” Sango whispered to herself, her breath hitching as she remembered how Kaede had once described the burnt, dying bandit who lay in a cave under the priestess Kikyo’s care. He had been covered in bandages, his bones broken, his skin burnt raw but for one single blue eye that leered feverishly out at the then-young Kaede, who had been deeply afraid of him. Onigumo had sold his soul to a horde of lower-class demons, becoming Naraku as they devoured his flesh and he took them for his new body, a body he could manipulate and change at will.

“Tell me, Seitei---who is this demon? What’s his name?” Sango demanded harshly, her hands curling into fists so that her short nails bit into her palms.

Seitei was strangely quiet, his sudden tension tangible in the small room. Sango flushed, her need to know rising up to beat a cold fury in her heart that she struggled to contain, for it was that same rage that had set a whole forest to madness. But her goal was so close, so very, very close. She could feel her chest tightening, her heart pounding with the possibility of finally realizing her vengeance after being denied it for so long. The spider mark burned between her breasts, darkening into an angry, purple color. She hardly cared, for Seitei could not see it, blind as he was.

Her desperation was so strong, she did that which she never. Grabbing the monk’s hand, she clasped it tight in her own, her voice fervent and whisper harsh as her brown eyes darkened. “Please, Seitei---I must know.”

“Such hate and seething anger.” He was solemn, his normally mild voice troubled, as if he felt the pain of her spirit. Sango’s eyes flashed, that anger boiling up. Damn him---she had to know. To save her brother, if nothing else. Her hands tightened on his, her lips whitening as her jaw clenched. By the gods, she would force it out, if necessary---

But her breath sucked in sharply as she felt his free palm suddenly pressing on her flesh, right over the very emblem of her seething hatred. Her heart sped up and she trembled as his fingers spread over the spider’s blurred outline. Her flesh burned beneath his touch and she was suddenly awash in a sea of memories. Myriad images flickered through her mind’s eye with the speed of thought, shifting and blurring into one another. She saw Naraku’s face---laughing, always laughing, evil and smirking. Her father, his eyes widening in shock as Kohaku’s scythe bit into his neck. Felt her own flinch as Kohaku’s weapon dug into her back, though somehow she survived. Saw Kohaku’s sudden horror at what he had done, his brown eyes widening just before the arrows struck him down. Saw the darkness closing in as the arrows hit her, too.

She felt the damp earth closing over her and her muffled screams as she tried to tear herself free from the its dark embrace. Saw Lord Kagewake and Naraku blur together---caught a glimpse of Inuyasha and Kagome, Kirara and Shippou. Felt her heart break once more as Miroku smiled softly at her, felt her lips form the beloved words, “Houshi-sama…”

Felt the wrench of renewed horror when she saw her brother, manipulated by Naraku, slaughtering village after village. Felt the shame and bitter tears falling down her cheeks as she was ready to end his life and hers, before Inuyasha intervened. Felt the constant shadow of her own weakness in not being able to free Kohaku, in not being able to save him or those he killed under Naraku’s influence.

She knelt by the graves of her massacred village, saw the desolate ruins of her once happy home. Saw again the savagery and terror that Naraku had inflicted on all those around her in that last, hideous battle. Felt again the burning agony as she watched Miroku die, sucked into his own accursed hand, her beloved nekomata disappearing into the black void as well. She saw Inuyasha cradling an inert Kagome in his arms as he fled down the well, the searing brilliance flashing one last time behind them as Naraku fled, taking her brother with him.

She saw again the beating heart bound in its grisly urn. Kagura’s heart---she glimpsed the Wind Sorceress’s hauntingly beautiful face, her red eyes flashing as she summoned the wind to her with a feather drawn from her hair to escape them once more. There was no escape for her now---Naraku had killed her in that last battle that had taken her most beloved from her side, both lover and companion, and even lost her the friends who had grown closer than brother and sister to her heart.

She felt her hands tightening around the urn and her eyes narrowing. She felt again her staggering steps as she lurched the last few feet to Shigure’s home---saw his smirking face, felt his despised caress of her arm just before he drew the scalpel down across her skin, cutting deeply so that the blood trickled out in a heady rush. And then the pain---the agonizing, never-ending pain that had turned her inside out as she succumbed to it. Saw his dark delight as he watched her reactions with studious interest. Felt the sublimation of her human nature as the fevered madness of her rejected demonic energy revenged itself on her hatred for demon-kind, feeding off of her own self-loathing for what she had become and knowing that she was still too weak to cross the kakai barrier and finish it.

Years passed by like the fanning pages of a book, countless years where the bitterness and hatred smoldered into a cold spark of fierce determination and grim survival as the loneliness etched icy despair into a hard shield over her sobbing soul. Felt again the elation at having won through the barrier, and the desperation and surprise and guilt encountering those three she now might consider even as friends. Felt the joy as she stood in the forest and embraced her true self, Kurama’s eyes flashing green, his hair a wild fire around him as Yusuke laughed and Hiei’s glaring red eyes burned into her very soul as the Dragon of the Darkness Flame consumed him…

“Enough.” Seitei pulled his hand free and Sango was suddenly back inside the barren room, tears running unheeded down her ashen cheeks. She drew back sharply, hugging herself away from the tired monk. There were deep lines running from his nose to mouth, and he took a deep, steadying breath.

“I must apologize, my lady.” He bowed low to her. Sango regarded him in mute shock. Anger would come, but later. She was too raw right now, her mind overloaded by too much emotion for her to be able to clasp onto any one feeling. No one, not even Hiei, had managed to pluck so deeply from her mind and memories, and the reliving of it all was too terrible for her to get past yet.

“I am, first and ever, loyal to my King. And I had to know, for myself, that if I am to betray his unspoken ally, than I must know that there is good reason for it. For although Toushin Raizen has his differences with the Lord Mukuro, he is actually the one my King favors over the other.”

“Mukuro…” Sango held onto that name, felt it burning across her mind, something tangible for her to grasp on to.

She flinched away from the calloused palm that suddenly cupped her cheek. His skin was warm against hers. His expression was grave, his closed eyes and the lines etched over his frowning mien compassionate. “I hope you find what it is you seek---but I don’t think you even know yet what that truly is, child.”

Sango jerked, as if struck, and Seitei sighed. Withdrawing his hand, he stood up and bowed as low as she had ever seen him, in both respect and apology. “Forgive me my intrusion, and please know it was only that I had to be certain. Please rest assured that I will tell no one---your secrets are safe, Sango.”

She flinched at the sound of her name, one she had not heard in over a century. Seitei paused just before leaving, a slight smile curving his lips. “That is one secret, my lady, that you might reconsider sharing. For a name is a powerful thing---an opened door through which many things might pass, things that might even surprise you.”

And with that cryptic advice, he withdrew.


Sitting at his ease on the bank of a small, secluded lake, Kurama looked up as he heard the scuff of Yusuke’s feet through the dry leaves of yesteryear that littered the ground all around them. The trees were ancient and weathered by time. Although not as thick or tall as those in the Forest of Fools, their branches extended up towards a sky awash in the ominous purple clouds that crisscrossed its fuchsia veil. Lightning flickered occasionally between them, but it was too high to really take note of. This arid land, with the surprisingly verdant valley cupped at its crest beyond Raizen’s city, would see little rain outside of the monsoonal season.

“Hey, Kurama.” Yusuke’s greeting was perfunctory as he drew up alongside the lounging fox. He surveyed the lake with hands on his hips, his expression both amused and wry. “I thought I might find you here. If there’s ever even a patch of woods, you and Hiei are in it.”

Kurama only smiled. He didn’t need to reply. The detective knew him well enough to know that, too.

Yusuke stirred, shifting from foot to foot as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. He pointedly didn’t look in the fox’s direction and a thin brow rose as Kurama studied his nervous friend. Something was on the detective’s mind, something that troubled him, and Kurama waited patiently for Yusuke to broach the subject.

He finally did so, and with his typical bluntness. “Aw, crap, what the hell.” He turned around, facing the fox with his arms crossed and his brown eyes intent. “I’m torn, Kurama, between staying here and helping these guys and just saying fuck it, and leaving them on their own. I don’t know what the hell to do. I mean---I came and did what I set out to do---well, not really, but---shit, Kurama, nothing is what I expected it to be.”

“Nothing ever really is, I suspect,” Kurama said, his words dry but his smile warm with sympathy for his friend’s dilemma.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yusuke grimaced. Picking up a handful of rocks, he sent a pebble skipping over the lake’s surface. The line of his shoulders was tight, the muscles in his arm standing out in sharp relief as he sent two more flying after it in quick succession. They barely skimmed the lake’s surface before finally plopping down into the water some distance from the shore. Yusuke frowned, still twitchy with the restlessness that indecision always gave him. The detective was made more for action than introspection---though Kurama always thought the detective gave himself too little credit in that regard. Yusuke had an innate gift for nailing those around him with an unnerving insight into their true motives, and was often able to see straight to the heart of a situation while Kurama was still trying to figure all the nuances out of it.

“So, you are concerned for the fate of Raizen’s men---if the rumors are true and the King really is dying,” Kurama quietly coaxed the ex-detective to continue.

“He is dying.” Yusuke scowled. “He says he has less than a year to live.”

Kurama sucked in his breath, more aware, perhaps, than his young friend what the terrible consequences of the Toushin’s death would have on the careful balance of power in Makai. “That soon?”

Yusuke looked unhappy. “Yeah.”

“It bothers you,” Kurama said, surprised by how much it did.

“I didn’t kick that bastard’s ass! I didn’t even come close, Kurama!” Yusuke suddenly burst out with the real reason that was making him so unhappy. His fist tightened around the pebbles in his hand, thoughtlessly crushing them into dust as his anger swelled. The brown eyes he turned on Kurama were hot with pent up emotion. “He almost beat the shit out of me, and there was nothing I could do but take it! He even had the gall to say I was pathetic, that he had to interfere with my battle with Sensui or I’d have been killed. Damn him, he might even be right. I just can’t know unless I beat him and prove to myself that he’s wrong---that I could have if I had been given the chance!”

Kurama should not have been surprised by Yusuke’s vehemence. His friend had always had the need to prove himself. Recklessly pitting himself against the odds, he was always searching for stronger and stronger foes to test himself against. Yusuke had seen Sensui as an ultimate test of his abilities, for the rogue detective had achieved a level of strength Yusuke had not even known existed until the Mazoku gene had awoken within him. The fact that Raizen had taken that fight from him was just a small bit of the very real curiosity the detective now had of just what he might be capable of. And really, the only worthy opponents Yusuke could now truly throw himself against were here, in Makai.

“Hokushin said I need training. Lots of training.” Yusuke made a face as he unclenched his fist, letting the gritty remains of the pebbles sift through his fingers. “It sure seems like I’ve spent half my damn life training new abilities. Whatever Hokushin has in mind can’t be half as bad as what that old bat Genkai put me through. That crazy bitch has a sick thing for torture.”

The detective’s fond smile for the elderly priestess belied his angry words, and the reminder of his strict mentor made the tension seep from his body. Wiping his dusty hand on the seat of his pants, he shook his head with a rueful expression. “Aw, crap, Kurama, I know just what Grandma would say. That I should stay here and learn all I can to control my new powers, before I go and do something stupid, like blow up the whole damn world.”

Yusuke laughed at the idea, but Kurama had the sardonic thought that that just might be the reason why King Yama feared the Mazoku so much. His new status as an S class demon was not one to be taken lightly by Spirit World.

Perhaps it would be best if Yusuke stayed here to train with Raizen’s men. Their Daoism might even teach Yusuke some restraint and caution, though that was a long shot---Yusuke had always marched to the beat of his own drum. But with the impetus of defeating Raizen to drive him on, Yusuke would surely benefit from even a few short weeks of training in the demon-style way of fighting.

Kurama knew Yusuke’s loyalties might be torn between staying here as he truly desired and going on to help Anei find her brother and this Naraku, wherever they were. But Yusuke discounted the fact that Kurama had no actual need to stay here and train---Youko had enough ability if he ever cared or needed to call upon it. And Hiei had made no bones about the fact that he disliked the fawning monks and their aesthetic philosophies, letting go a few snide comments about fools and their personal self-sabotage. Unlike Yusuke, Hiei never pitied the underdog; instead, he saw them as rather pathetic for putting themselves in such an untenable situation in the first place.

Kurama’s lips twitched at the thought of his cynical friend, and as if his thoughts had summoned him, the short apparition abruptly appeared on the tree branch above them.

Shielding his eyes, Yusuke looked up and grinned. “Hey, short stack. I wondered when you’d finally show up.”

“Hn.”

“Nice to see you, too, grouchy.”

The apparition leapt down, his black coat swirling behind him as he landed easily on the grassy bank. His third eye drooped half-closed, as if tired, though the demon didn’t appear fatigued. Stealthily testing the demon’s aura, Kurama surmised the youkai had been using the Jagan, and for quite some time. He gave the demon a questioning look and Hiei frowned, as if put out by his astuteness.

“Find anything?” Kurama asked rather mildly, his tone casual but the glint in his green eyes baiting.

Hiei gave him a cool look. “Not particularly. Just a vague sense that we should go north and east.”

Kurama wondered just how much searching Hiei had done for the Jagan to droop that much. He’d probably spent hours scanning the horizon, and although the fire apparition did not voice his frustration over what little information he had gleaned from his long perusal, the emotion spilled over from his mind into Kurama’s as he shared mentally, *There’s a possibility the boy’s shielded. Even from my Jagan.*

The fox knew the apparition didn’t particularly like that idea, that someone could shield themselves from his third eye. Hiei would take it as a personal affront. That sentiment might play well into what Kurama was about to propose. The fox was not averse to using whatever means necessary to persuade his friends that the best course might be for them to separate. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Yusuke behind, but it might be in their best interests for the former Spirit Detective to stay and hone his abilities. If Raizen’s death was imminent, than they might very well need the Mazoku’s power in the future.

“Doesn’t King Mukuro’s territory lie to the northeast? The other king---whose name escapes me---” Kurama frowned at the reminder, he should really ask someone, but Hiei distracted him from the idle thought.

“Is more south,” the demon growled, folding his arms and leaning one shoulder against the thick tree bole beside him.

“From what I remember, no one knows where Mukuro came from, and no one has ever seen his face,” Kurama said.

“Or lived to tell of it.” Hiei smirked.

“Gods, you have a sick sense of humor, three-eyes.” Yusuke shook his shiny head. The pomade the boy used to keep his hair back was stiff enough that not even a single black hair moved.

Hiei let the tips of his fangs show as his smile turned malicious. “I would find it quite funny, detective, to cut that flapping tongue right out of your mouth.”

Kurama sucked in his breath as Yusuke deliberately added fuel to the fire, a wicked gleam in his brown eyes. “Wow, you have such a charming way about you, Hiei. It’s no wonder you’ve never been laid.”

Hiei only gave the detective a scornful look, hardly fazed by the taunt. “Careful, detective, or I might decide something else needs to be chopped off.”

Yusuke blanched, his hands automatically cupping around the threatened area. “You’re a sick, sick bastard, Hiei,” he groused, even though a grin tugged at the corner of his mobile mouth.

“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?” Kurama deliberately intervened, and Yusuke shot him an unrepentant grin. Squatting down beside the fox, he said, “So you think this Mukuro-guy might just be the roach-monkey Anei’s looking for?”

“There’s the possibility,” Kurama allowed. Hiei looked at him in cool appraisal, a single brow rising.

“What if he’s not?” Yusuke demanded, playing devil’s advocate.

“Than he might be in the king’s employ. Mukuro has never been too choosy over his allies. Naraku could be one of the king’s advisors or captains. Hiei, you indicated that the feeling you got was to the northeast?” Kurama carefully diverted the detective’s attention away from himself.

Hiei nodded, his eyes flicking from the squatting Mazoku to the red-haired fox as realization dawned. He was abruptly inside Kurama’s head, as always his fierce presence as sharp as his frightening insight. *You do not intend the detective to go.*

*No,* Kurama said, and quickly related why. Hiei nodded once, a small motion Yusuke missed. The apparition’s final barb as he abruptly dropped contact made Kurama frown.

*Now you just have to get him to agree to it, fox. Hn. Good luck with that.*


Hiei waited impatiently for the others to say their lame goodbyes and catch up with him. It was ridiculous to make such a fuss over leaving. Hiei had never understood why people felt the need for it. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be seeing each other again. As soon as they found that pompously-named youkai and reclaimed Anei’s brother, they would return to collect Yusuke from his little Dao dojo and…well, Hiei didn’t know what he wanted to do after that, but probably the others would want to return to living world. He was in no rush, though, to return to that freakish place with its sheep-like people who didn’t even have the wit to realize the world around them contained far more in it than just their narrow-minded selves.

It was rather pathetic, really, how the humans could consistently lie so easily to themselves. Those few who knew of the existence of demons were always quick to say the secret was kept for the others’ own good. They might even be right---Hiei had little respect for all but a handful of humans, and staying in Ningenkai for the past year or so hadn’t improved his sour opinion all that much.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he expected to see the taiji-ya give Yusuke a last hug or something else as trite. Girls, in his admittedly limited experience, usually did stuff like that, making a big deal over nothing. But she seemed preoccupied as Yusuke clasped Kurama’s hand. The three monks, who had escorted them to Raizen’s territory and had come to see them off, bowed. Anei’s eyes kept straying to the mountainous horizon beyond him, and she seemed withdrawn. That didn’t stop Yusuke from tossing an arm across her narrow shoulders and saying something that had her stiffen right up and blush. Hiei smirked as he heard Yusuke yelp after she punched him. Turning his eyes back to the forested terrain, Hiei scanned their likely path. He heard the crunch of gravel as Kurama and Anei finally turned to follow him up the rocky hill that overlooked the green valley beyond and the distant mountains that separated Mukuro’s territory from Raizen’s.

*Finally.* Feeling them behind him, Hiei tensed to spring, determined to scout out the terrain ahead by taking to the trees. He paused, hearing Yusuke’s departing shot as the detective cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered his goodbye after him.

“Hey, three-eyes! Don’t forget the Visine!”

Mouth quirking in a faint smile, Hiei did not look back as he took off.