Mukuro's Favor

by anthropologicalhands

Summary:

“I do not joke about guests,” she said sternly. “I don’t know what brings him here, or what scheme the two of you have hatched, and I don’t care as long as it doesn’t get you arrested by Natsume’s forces. But, if Kurama will be spending time in Makai, he is welcome to rest here. Frame it as a favor, if you wish.”

~

Mukuro invites Kurama to her fortress.

 ~

“I’ll be gone for the next few weeks.”

Hiei offered no greeting, or even the pretense of opening comments—just the declaration, delivered almost as a challenge.

None of that was strange to Mukuro, and nor was his abrupt appearance in her bedroom late at night, detaching himself from the shadows as if he hadn’t just used the door. But usually, he treated her space as his own, perching on whatever piece of furniture suited his whim at the moment.

What was strange was how he was now keeping his distance: standing at attention, arms crossed, scowling deeply.

“Oh?” Mukuro asked mildly, shifting to sit up straight in her bed. “What’s the occasion for the warning?”

One of the key principles of their relationship was that Hiei could come and go as he pleased. Explanations for his disappearances were never asked and rarely offered. As long as he wasn’t shirking his patrol duties or wreaking havoc like a rabid dog, Mukuro paid those absences little mind. There might be a sharp pinch under her ribs occasionally, when he stayed away for months on end, but for the most part she spent her time as usual: sparring, swapping stories with Shigure, and otherwise enjoying life as an ex-King.

“My business is not worth your concern. I just thought you’d prefer to be informed than left stewing.”

Mukuro’s eyes narrowed. Nevermind that every other word out of Hiei’s mouth was usually some form of insult: that could conceivably be a slight. Which meant he was trying to distract her, and quite poorly.

How unusual for Hiei to try to use words to deflect her, rather than his fists or the sword still strapped to his hip.

“Very well,” said Mukuro, still mild. “But so soon? You only just returned.”

And from a particularly long absence from which he returned not revitalized, but drained. Usually, he was full of ready complaints over the inconvenience and softness of Ningenkai. This time, nothing.

There were always signs that let Mukuro predict when Hiei would be skipping out to Ningenkai. An additional brusqueness in his manner, insomnia, active irritation when she turned down his requests for more training. None of those had preceded his absence. But he had been in Ningenkai. Like always, in the days after his return, he had smelled strongly of roses.

The barest trace of scent still clung to him even now—foreign, but not unpleasant.

Hiei smiled, an unkind flash of sharp teeth. “Worried about me? You should know better.”

Well, yes. Usually, she might reach out to brush his mind, get a glimpse into his internal state beyond what his youki and general mood might convey. But these last few days, her telepathic touch came up against a wall in Hiei’s mind, without seams or cracks. He wasn’t hiding anything of himself behind it, and the fact that she encountered it at all spoke to the health of their usual bond.  But there was a wall, now, where there wasn’t before.There was something he wanted to keep private.

“Oh, I do,” she asked, too sweetly, and rewarded by how Hiei stiffened at her tone. “I suppose that you’d rather I take you at your word?”

His eyes, still a vivid crimson even in the dim light of her room, sharpened their focus, reminding her of carbuncles from her treasury.

“You seemed not to have trouble before,” he said, with a practiced sort of carelessness.

“But usually you’re not so thoughtful, Hiei. To whom do I owe my thanks?”

As expected, Hiei twitched at her unsubtle insinuation, though his glare didn’t waver. Nor did he answer.

 Mukuro allowed the silence to sit between them a little longer, then relented.

“I see. Well then, would it pain you to tell me what side of this border you’ll be on, at the very least?”

He grunted, unamused. “I’ll still be in Makai.”

“Training?” Mukuro guessed, though she doubted it was the right answer. The next Makai Tournament was still a year and a half away—far too soon for Hiei’s usual training regime to start.

He shook his head.

“A mission?” she probed. Also unlikely. Hiei still got roped into occasional assignments for Reikai, but he was usually vocal in his complaints, enough that she tuned him out more often than not.

He shrugged.

Revenge she rejected as similarly unlikely. If one of Hiei’s Ningenkai-dwelling friends had died, she would have known. Or anything bad enough that might drive Hiei to attempt revenge: he would have sought her help. Or he would have already taken it. But she would have known.

So, whatever the intention was behind this impending absence, it was sufficiently outside the realm of appropriate demon behavior that Hiei was unwilling to explain himself.

Mukuro’s eyebrow ticked up in disbelief, and she crossed her arms, leaning back against her pillows. “Are you really going to make me guess, Hiei? I thought you weren’t fond of these games.”

“What does it matter if I do? Will you demand that I stay?” asked Hiei sardonically.

Oh, now her little shadow was taunting her. Trying to provoke her into a fight. Another distraction tactic, a little more effective, but not enough.

“I know better than that,” she said smoothly, consciously leaning back. That unnerved Hiei—good. Served him right for trying to pick a fight. He had a better grasp of strategy now than when he did when he first met her, but his immediate reaction was always to provoke, to find a bruise or wound and press in deep.

She wondered if this tendency irritated Kurama as much as it irritated her. Now there was a demon who, even with his human body and perspective, certainly knew how to keep a good poker face.

Well, if her hunch was correct, perhaps this was as good an opportunity as any to find out.

“Quite the opposite, actually. You know I have no interest in controlling your movements, and I don’t appreciate you implying otherwise.”

Hiei reacted, but not as she expected, his face twisting most curiously at her words: his frown softening, eyebrows furrowing, his expression shifting to one of familiar, fond exasperation.

It vanished just as quickly, but she’d caught that expression from him before, when he thought she wasn’t looking, when he complained about Kurama.

“I only ask so that I can reassure my men that you have not suddenly gone rogue on me, Hiei. You are being kind enough to forewarn me—I just want to make sure I have enough information to be considered forewarned. Will there be anyone else with you, on this business of yours? I’d rather know that you were meeting with the enemy than get a frenzied accusation from one of Natsume’s bureaucrats less than two weeks into your absence.”

Hiei glared outright. He did hate to explain himself, and he refused to lie outright. But they had lived together for long enough that she had no concerns over his discomfort.  And really, it was one of the only explanations she could think of as to why he would warn her of his absence.

“I won’t be alone,” he acknowledged through gritted teeth.

“Will you be with Kurama?”

She could feel his desire to lie lance out, visibly suppressed, his pupils contracting to pinpricks despite the darkness of her room.

“I will.”  His acknowledgement was barely audible.

Mukuro could hear Hiei’s teeth grinding, annoyed that she divined something of his plans so easily. And that was how you flanked him, she thought, not bothering to hide her smile. He ought to have done more to wash the scent of roses from his hair, if he hadn’t wanted her to know.

Especially when Kurama hadn’t spent more than a few weeks in Makai in the last twenty-five years—why wouldn’t she find that fascinating?

“Now, was that so hard? No need to look so grim—I’m glad to hear of it. Of course, now that I have heard of it, I do have a request for you.”

Hiei gave a short, harsh laugh. “Why am I not surprised? I told the fox you would.”

“It’s hardly anything dangerous, Hiei. This request is of you, not of him.”

“And what would that be?”

“Extend him an invitation to the fortress to be my guest.”

Oh, that was a fun expression now painted across Hiei’s face. She waited, patiently, for him to gather himself again.

“You must be joking,” said Hiei at last. “Did a gear come loose in your head? You might want to speak with Shigure to get it fixed.”

Mukuro frowned, rankled not by the childish jab but the doubt on her sincerity.

“I do not joke about guests,” she said sternly. “I don’t know what brings him here, or what scheme the two of you have hatched, and I don’t care as long as it doesn’t get you arrested by Natsume’s forces. But, if Kurama will be spending time in Makai, he is welcome to rest here. Frame it as a favor, if you wish.”

Hiei said nothing, still eyeing her suspiciously. Well, she couldn’t entirely blame him. Their arrangement worked very well when his lovers were split between worlds, but bringing all three of them under the same roof was potentially….volatile.

Still, her intentions were honest.

“And if he doesn’t accept?” Hiei challenged. But his hand had fallen away from his sword.

“I won’t be offended. But let him know that it’s a standing invitation.”

“Why?”

“Why...what?”

“Why do you want to see him now?” he elaborated. “You never seemed to have any particular interest in him before.”

“It wasn’t a lack of interest, just a lack of opportunity. Besides,” she added, a little amusement coloring her voice, “I never thanked him properly for his part in your birthday gift. It’s very fine work—my father is still just barely alive, and still suffers so exquisitely.”

That reasoning, half-serious as it was, did seem to appease Hiei.

“...I’ll mention it to him. But I won’t make any promises.”

She didn’t ask for any, but if Hiei had denied spending time in Ningenkai before this, that kind of phrasing would have signaled it to her—he tended to pick up turns of phrases after spending time with his former team and their families.

“Thank you.” She leaned over to pick up a small clockwork mechanism Hiei had brought her a few months back; signaling that he could consider himself dismissed. “But if he accepts, please use your new courtesy and warn me about when he will come. Don’t just show up unannounced with a fox. That would be bad manners.”

He snorted, amused.

“I’ll try.”

Then he was gone. Perhaps he was already on his way back to Ningenkai to convey her invitation. No other reason to escape so fast.

~

Hiei’s message was delivered into her mind right as the blood-red sky blackened to night.

The fox conveys his thanks, and accepts your invitation. We’ll return in two days.

Hiei’s tone was curt, crisp, and conveyed absolutely nothing more about how he felt than the words.

I’m glad to hear it, she replied, not hiding her amusement. Hiei’s mind snapped its sharp jaws at her and closed the connection, leaving her laughter echoing in the void.

Well, this would be interesting.

Even if Kurama hadn’t been Hiei’s, Mukuro would have found him fascinating. Not only for his history with Yomi and his role in the Makai Tournament, but for the bare facts of his current existence. Mukuro had her weaknesses, and creatures half one thing and half another ranked high among them. Reinvention of the self was difficult, and here was one who pulled himself through it in a remarkably short period of time. She had respect for that.

Her men, however, were less sanguine about his impending arrival. Mukuro silenced their protests with little more than a sharp glare, and the simple order that there was to be no challenges, ambushes, or political maneuvers of any kind with her guest. She stressed that her order was for their sake—the quiet life in Ningenkai had done nothing to diminish Kurama’s power, even if he was not at the levels that Hiei seemed to believe him to be capable of.

“Their concerns are not unwarranted,” Shigure observed from behind her, after she sent her troops scurrying out with the threat of her disapproval. He was resting in the shadows at the back of the room; Mukuro gestured for him to join her.

She heard his quiet sigh as he straightened, and the tinkling of the chains, bells, and other adornments shifting as he approached her desk. She turned up to meet his gaze, silently requesting further explanation.

“Youko Kurama was not known for his binding word, and even if his new life has changed him, it didn’t seem to have any effect on his strategic mind. And he had no problem turning against Yomi. If he did wish you harm, he could cause significant damage.”

Mukuro smiled.

“You think I don’t know that?” she asked playfully. “If that were truly the case, I think Hiei would’ve warned me. Unless you think his loyalty is in question.”

“Of course not,” said Shigure immediately, so sternly that Mukuro’s smile widened. He fell quiet for a moment, running his thumb down the curve of his blade, thoughtful. “But, it does raise suspicion that there might be potential for conflict of a more personal nature.”

Mukuro laughed outright, though Shigure didn’t, and grew serious again.

“Soldiers will always gossip,” she said firmly. “If you hear anyone speaking such drivel, teach them a lesson, would you?”

“Of course, Lord Mukuro.”

“In regards to your other point, well. I can’t ignore it, but you and I both know Yomi’s methods are not always the most upfront, either. Kurama seems content with his mortal life. I sincerely doubt that he intends to use my invitation as step one in some elaborate plan to take over Makai. Even if he did, he’s still not strong enough to defeat me. No offense meant to you.”

He laughed, the sound creaking. “It would take more than that for you to offend me, my lord.”

“I hope so. You did cast yourself to certain death when he defeated you. It was very difficult to put you back together. I’d rather not repeat it.”

He smiled, as he often did when she rebuked him.

“Of course, liege.” Shigure inclined his head to her, and left.

Now that she was alone—truly alone, for Hiei’s mind was still closed to her—Mukuro stretched back in her chair, mechanical joints creaking, and contemplated her imminent guest.

It was strange how little she really knew of Kurama beyond his reputation. Oh, Yomi had his stories, and she witnessed the fox demon’s agile mind in action for herself at the Makai Tournaments held over the years. But those fragments didn’t reflect a full picture. Youko Kurama would have never made his home in Ningenkai, or sought to protect it as fiercely as this new, redheaded incarnation did. She knew a few more details than most from Hiei, but Hiei was still sparing in his accounts, and his mind closed tight on any secrets Kurama might have shared with him.

It would be lying to claim that her interest in Kurama was completely divorced from his own relationship with Hiei. But then, that was the same for any of Hiei’s relationships, whether with Raizen’s brat, or Yukina and her husband, or the other humans in Ningenkai—all of those who kept drawing him back to a world he claimed to hate.

For someone of split nature himself, Hiei was remarkably resistant to admitting that her home wasn’t his only one. She looked forward to meeting the other half of who Hiei considered home.

~

When Hiei and Kurama arrived, Mukuro was not inside her fortress but running outside, keeping pace with the giant beetle as it wove through the nearby forests, testing her new armor modifications. She caught two trails of burning-bright youki signatures, mixed with the scents of smoke and roses and the metallic tang of Ningenkai.

Welcome home, she greeted Hiei. Both of you.

He reached back in wordless response, brushing her mind briefly in reassurance, but did not redirect their path toward her. She grinned to herself and kept running, pushing to see how far her new limits could go.

Give them some time to adjust.

When she finished, she swung back into the jaws of the beetle, her body buzzing both with adrenaline and anticipation, whether from her exercise or Kurama’s presence, she wasn’t quite sure which.

She could feel her guards and Shigure in their usual places, with Hiei somewhere in the upper chambers. As for her new guest…

She frowned. Kurama’s youki, green and healthy and muted, could be traced to her receiving room, the one that connected to her bedroom. Not exactly off limits, but most knew to ask permission.

Idly, she reached back out to Hiei. Letting your lover have free range without you?

His reply was immediate and sulky. He wanted to speak to you alone.

Well, Kurama was a fox. They had a near-deadly sense of curiosity. At least she had a good idea why Hiei might have sent him here.

When she entered the room, Kurama only glanced briefly back at her, offering a small smile,  before returning his attention to Hiei’s birthday gift, resting in its place of honor. That glance made her falter, just briefly. Not his expression, but an impression of exhaustion, and not the kind that might be expected from a long journey.

She joined him, folding her arms across her chest, admiring the gift, restoring her composure before speaking.

“I forgot to tell Hiei to warn you,” she said, keeping her eyes before her, “but I don’t like illusions in my territory. If you would oblige me, I’d prefer you show your true face here.”

“Shuuichi Minamino is forty years old,” replied Kurama, a shadow of red at the corner of her vision. “This is how I would look now, if I was fully human. But, of course, I’m happy to oblige my host.”

Now when she looked at him, and the Kurama standing beside her now was the one she recognized—a young face, older than when she first met him, but without gray in his hair or lines at the corners of his eyes.

“Of course, if you wished to see Youko Kurama, I’m afraid that I will have to disappoint you,” he continued, green eyes keen and calm, though the impression of exhaustion did not dissipate with his older looks. “I don’t wear that skin anymore.”

“I’ve heard.” It was a persistent sore spot with Hiei, in fact, and even Yomi brought it up on the rare occasions they met. “This one will do perfectly well, thank you.”

Mukuro went back to observing the gargantuan mass of the man who called himself her father, how it convulsed in time with the Death Tree’s flexing grasp. She wasn’t entirely sure how alive he was anymore, but the sight still comforted her.

“How does it look?” she asked, a sardonic lilt to her voice. “Am I feeding it enough?”

Kurama chuckled, the sound as crisp as dying leaves. “I didn’t know you were a budding horticulturist, Mukuro.”

“Oh, you know. The lack of strife around the border might be good for your Ningenkai, but it leaves me in dire need of a hobby.”

Kurama smiled and cast his eyes down, shaking his head; she grinned and continued, “A plant seemed to be a good start, but I’m not sure what I’ll do once his life energy runs out.”

“I see. The color is very good—it will be another handful of years at least before you need to feed anything else to it.”

“Good.” She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t believe I ever thanked you for your part in bringing him here.”

“No need. I simply provided the plant,” Kurama demurred. “It was entirely Hiei’s idea. I can hardly share the credit.”

“You could have refused.”

“Oh, I could never refuse Hiei anything,” said Kurama, in a slightly self-mocking tone. She felt a flare from his youki—nothing showy, but enough to make her skin prickle, and she had to consciously restrain herself from matching him, rising to some instinctual challenge.

Mukuro held back from her usual rejoinder; Kurama had only been in her fortress for under an hour. It was far too soon to take offense to such a small thing.

Besides, it’s not like she was any better about denying Hiei.

He sighed, shoulders drooping, ducking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“My apologies for my rudeness, Mukuro. It’s been a long day. For what it’s worth, Hiei didn’t tell me exactly who this man was to you. But the little information he provided was enough for me to agree that the Death Tree seemed an appropriate fate.”

As if she needed Kurama’s reassurance that Hiei’s loyalty was anything but absolute, but she liked the gesture.

“Accepted.” Now that he wasn’t looking at her, Mukuro studied him. There was something...thorny about him. The handful of times they’d met before, he was reserved and watchful, but not as sharp. On edge.

“How much of the fortress has Hiei shown you?” she asked, turning her back on the Death Tree.

“Just the entrance area, my quarters, and this room.”

“I can probably give you a better idea of the layout so you can avoid getting lost.”

“I would appreciate it.”

There was the fox’s good manners.

Kurama kept his hands clasped behind his back as they walked through the fortress—a regular habit, or a courtesy to assure her that the former thief wouldn’t try anything rash in her view? She didn’t know.

“Are your quarters to your liking?” Hiei had requested a separate set of rooms to be made up—Mukuro had wondered who he thought he was trying to fool, but now that she had a taste of Kurama’s youki, she could see that the rooms might be less for a pretense of propriety than a refuge for the fox to use as needed.

“They suit me very well,” said Kurama. For the first time, she caught the spark of mischief glimmering as he continued, “And I can promise that all of your ornaments will be right where you left them after I’m gone.”

Hmph. Cheeky fox.

She grunted. “Too bad. It means that taking a full inventory of the treasury last week might not have been necessary.”

That startled a true laugh out of Kurama, and Mukuro felt her own unease ebb away.

“I suppose I deserve that.”

“You do.” Dancing around a subject had never been her forte—might as well ask now. “Still, even with the danger you present to our more valuable pieces, I’m honored that you accepted my invitation. What brings you to Makai?”

That surprised him; he wasn’t looking at her, but she could see him frown. “Didn’t Hiei tell you?”

“No details,” she said, and Kurama gave a small huff at her echo of his words. “I don’t think he was going to reveal that you two were traveling together until I asked him directly. You know how he is.”

“I see.” Kurama tilted his chin down, casting his face in shadow. “Ningenkai has been a little overwhelming, lately. This is a break of sorts.”

“A break?”

“For some time now, I have been meaning to retrace my steps to some old caches, deeper in Makai than I have been since I incarnated. The eastern lands—the furthest boundaries of Yomi’s territory, when he was a king.”

“That’s not exactly an oasis of calm.”

“No. But I knew it well, once. There are some items I would like to retrieve.” Kurama’s tone shifted, became reflective. “I don’t know if that’s still true, but I know Hiei has been curious about some of the early treasures I stole. I haven’t seen that part of Makai in six centuries. I can’t imagine how much it might have changed.”

He hadn’t actually answered her question, but Mukuro didn’t press the matter further.

“You’d be surprised. Things don’t change as quickly around Makai as they do in Ningenkai,” she said instead. “Even if things are picking up speed these days.”

“So Hiei tells me.” Kurama stopped walking, and Mukuro stopped with him. “I do have a rather impertinent question for you, Mukuro.”

“Oh?”

“Did you truly invite me here as a courtesy, or to torture Hiei?” Kurama looked appropriately concerned, eyebrows raised.

Mukuro didn’t believe it for a second. There wasn’t any emotion behind it—it still felt like there was a pane of glass between herself and Kurama, dimming any insight beyond the surface.

“Oh, both. I’ve come to appreciate efficiency these days,” said Mukuro drolly. “I’m sure you still do as well, which is why I will take inventory of every shiny object in this fortress after you leave.”

Kurama laughed again, and they resumed walking. This time, Mukuro noticed that Kurama wasn’t quite as careful about maintaining distance between them.

“I don’t think I would have the energy for such a thing,” he assured her, smiling. “I do think it will be nice for us to spend a little more time together.”

“Agreed.” A thought struck her. “Forgive me, have you eaten yet?”

“I haven’t,” he admitted.

“Then the kitchens will be our next stop.” Mukuro looked forward, where a familiar short figure in black had appeared at the end of the hall, and was now waiting with his arms crossed. She grinned. “And it seems like Hiei has finally deigned to pay attention to his guest.”

Kurama didn’t reply, but she saw how his expression curved in fondness at the sight of Hiei, and felt a similar fondness in turn.

Hiei didn’t say anything when they reached him, merely heaving an exasperated sigh, as if they had kept him waiting, and falling into step to join them. Mukuro did not miss how he placed himself between her and Kurama, and she wondered what, exactly, was going through his head about the two of them.

~

Mukuro wasn’t one for ceremonies, finding them extraneous at best and laughably dull at worst, but she did insist that they eat together for the first night. Hiei blanched, but Kurama, with an amused glance down at the agonized demon between them, accepted.

Mukuro didn’t know why Hiei was so on edge; it was a perfectly pleasant meal, with Kurama graciously answering her questions about life in Ningenkai, and occasionally requesting Hiei’s assistance in recalling particular events or trivia that her lieutenant provided only grudgingly. Frankly, it was rather rude of him.

She didn’t think her request that audacious—the dinner doesn’t even last the hour, with Kurama the first to excuse himself, pleading exhaustion.

Hiei, naturally, accompanied him, and Mukuro went to her library, seeking out folklore and stories that she had not heard in years, records of Makai’s history that she would have once considered worthless, but now the leisure of retirement taught her to appreciate.

Back in her room, she was leafing through a particularly interesting account of an area in Raizen’s former territory, when the main door creaked open a sliver and then shut again just as quickly. She waited until Hiei stopped right before her bed before flicking her eyes up to meet his unsmiling face.

“How is our guest settling in?”

“Well enough. He said he appreciated the soundproofing wards, not that he believes his trivial matters would interest any spies.”

Mukuro gave a noncommittal hum, her finger holding the spot in the book where Hiei interrupted her. If Kurama actually believed that she thought his affairs trivial, then he was much stupider than she had any reason to believe him to be.

“You do know that Kurama has no ulterior motive for being here, right?” said Hiei, raising his voice slightly, as though he were issuing a challenge.

“Of course,” said Mukuro lightly, as if he had simply inquired about the temperature of the room. “I’ve only taken normal precautions with him, same as any other demon.”

Well, maybe more than just the normal precautions, but nothing was paranoid when your guest could turn weeds into weapons.

“He’s not after any of your property.”

There was an amusing double entendre somewhere about whether Hiei could be considered her property, but Mukuro held her tongue. Hiei’s aggressive protectiveness was endearing under most circumstances, but there was something particularly audacious about his current claim.

“I don’t think he is,” she said, holding her calm, letting the pause stretch between them as she chose her words. Hiei shifted under her gaze, uneasy, sensing something of her sharper interest, not the lighthearted curiosity she had prodded Kurama with earlier in the evening. “However, I can tell that there is more to his presence in Makai than what either of you are saying.”

Hiei stiffened, shifting his stance out as if for a fight. Mukuro didn’t return the favor; she wasn’t interested in such a distraction.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, but now without the edge; a blade held in defense, not to attack. He had gotten better at that, over the years. No career in diplomacy was likely, but enough to contain himself.

“There’s something off in his youki.” She didn’t reach out to Hiei’s mind; he deserved a little privacy in this. “Something heavy swirls in him. He’s powerful as ever, but he’s not in fighting shape.”

“You noticed.”

“Just barely. Again, I don’t care about your plans, as long as it doesn’t cause trouble for me.”

“It’s better than leaving him to steep in it,” Hiei deflected. “And you underestimate his strength. Fight him yourself and see.”

Mukuro allowed a bare flicker of a smile at Hiei’s proposition. “It’s an appealing idea, but I don’t know if that would be more for my pleasure or yours.”

Hiei flushed red, glowering at her. “Don’t say such stupid things. Just remember that Kurama is of no concern to you.”

He turned to go.

“You’re wrong,” said Mukuro, now shutting her book and rising, to approach him where he stood immobile, awaiting her. His shoulders were tense—she could feel the corded muscle under her hand when she turned him back around to face her. “His wellbeing is of great concern to you.
Naturally, it would be of concern to me. You just haven’t had us both under one roof before, so you’re only now hearing it.”

Hiei’s eyes gleamed, and he gave a mocking smirk. “And for good reason—this was clearly a mistake.”

“How so? Because I’m pointing out your irrational behavior?”

Hiei’s eyes narrowed. “Irrational? You speak of something you don’t know, Mukuro.”

“Your protectiveness is sweet,” she brought her hand to his cheek, tipping up his chin so that he wouldn’t look away so easily. Carefully, his unbandaged fingers came to rest over her hand, letting her hold him there. “Your possessiveness, on the other hand, is only flattering in the right mood. Think very carefully about what you want from this, Hiei.”

Mukuro knew she was overstepping, so she didn’t blame Hiei for how he twisted and stepped just out of her hands. Such a beautiful creature, she thought, even when he refused to see sense. Perhaps she was also too soft with him. Still, she had done her part, letting him know what she noticed. It was up to him and Kurama to see how that would play out in practice.

Hiei’s presence vanished down the hall. She returned to her bed and her book, reading for a while longer. Then, out of idle curiosity, she reached out with her mind to see if she could feel his youki settled back in his rooms, and smiled in amusement when she felt nothing.

Out of deference to her guest, she didn’t bother checking Kurama’s, and read until the candles burned low.

~

As expected, Kurama was an unobtrusive guest.

He continued to keep his youki masked; Mukuro interpreted it as a courtesy, though it made her men jumpy, peering suspiciously at any signs of greenery that might be making its way into the fortress. The only clear sign of his presence, really, was the scent of roses that permeated the air.

She gave him free range for a day, then went and followed the roses. What was the point of having a guest, after all, if she didn’t talk to him?

She traced him to her library, one of her maps spread out over the main table.

“Good day, Mukuro,” he said, straightening as she approached. He looked better today—the sense of lethargy much reduced.

“Kurama. Checking your facts?” she gestured to the small, human-made notebook open in front of him, with notations in an unfamiliar script.

“Refreshing my memory,” said Kurama, with a slight smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I want to get my bearings before attempting a visit.”

Mukuro bent over the map, following his finger as he traced a circle over a territory deep in the eastern mountains—nowhere that she ever spent much time. It might have been part of Gandara during Raizen’s era, but it wasn’t the part that Yomi had worked so hard to build up.

“Can I ask what specifically is in there, or is that one of Youko Kurama’s secrets?” she teased, noting how Kurama braced himself, then relaxed, puzzled—reading her body language. The dim light of the library cast shadows across his hair, dying it a deep blood red instead of its vivid crimson.

“Truthfully, I don’t actually remember,” said Kurama simply. “But I have a couple of ideas. You were right—the area hasn’t changed as much as I thought it would. It feels like the right time to return. Old enemies dead, old wounds having scabbed over. Perhaps I’ll see it in a new light.”

Mukuro couldn’t imagine doing the same thing with the lands of her youth, unless it was to burn down everything that made her early life so hellish, fueled her with the hate she needed to claw herself into a new identity. But she remembered Yomi’s comments about Kurama, the few times they discussed him, regarding Kurama’s decision to return to Ningenkai. The fox was a collector, a distiller, who could no more destroy his own roots than she could undo the damage she’d wrought to herself.

“You should visit the King of Makai sometimes,” she said. “They’ve been making noise about properly mapping out the world these days, for administrative purposes.”

“Sounds like you don’t think much of the effort.”

She shrugged. “I can see the utility behind it, but I think it’s more of an excuse to keep adventure-hungry younglings busy. I doubt Makai even has a concrete shape—they’ll learn something from their efforts, but it won’t be everything, and they are fools to think so.”

A smile touched Kurama’s lips. “I agree, more or less. It wouldn’t be the Makai without a level of chaos. I used to enjoy the challenge. But these days, I prefer the ability to plan ahead.”

“Ah, but where’s the challenge in that?”
 
“I take it that perspective is why I hear that you regularly ignore the Makai King’s requests to take on a greater role in her government?”

Shadowed as his face was, Mukuro could see the amusement dancing behind his eyes. Facetious fox.

“I get restless,” was Mukuro’s only reply. “Besides, as much as I enjoy teaching ambitious upstarts a lesson every now and then, I have better things to do with my time.”

“Really?” Kurama rifled through the cubbyholes again, hands passing efficiently but delicately over the ancient papers, before he found what he was looking for. “Given your reputation, I thought that most fighters would still move cautiously before challenging you.”

Spoken with his back deliberately to her, Mukuro had to admire his gall, especially when he turned around and his expression was only politely inquiring. He unfolded the new map on the table, on top of the others; it showed a more detailed study of the region, close enough to map rivers and caves.

Well, he was her guest; perhaps it was just a calculated risk rather than an insult.

“Yomi’s made himself scarce these last few years, and Raizen’s brat lives in Ningenkai. I’m an easy target. Besides, I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

Kurama looked up. “Enlighten me.”

It was hard not to laugh at that wide-eyed innocent look, knowing it to be an affectation. Hiei was right; Kurama’s human face completely belied what she knew it to be.

“There are many demons who believe I lost my edge,” said Mukuro simply. “That just because I am no longer driven by a hatred of those who might encroach on my actions, my power has been diminished.”

Kurama was frowning now, his youthful face rippling. He added a few new marks in his notebook before setting down his pen.

“Now I remember hearing something of that sort,” said Kurama. “I dismissed it as pure foolishness. I’m sorry to hear otherwise.”

She shrugged. “It’s annoying, nothing more.”

“Still, I empathize.” Kurama smiled up at Mukuro, and she felt a…retraction in the air, as if a careful veil had been drawn aside. “Since I’ve returned to Makai, I’ve had to confront similar accusations myself. For different reasons—for a long time, my human body was far weaker than the original—but it does tire one out.”

“That it does,” agreed Mukuro, after a short pause. Hiei spoke often of how Kurama’s new appearance led others to underestimate him; she hadn’t thought that it would irritate him in a similar way. “It’s strange. Once, I had to fight for every inch to myself. Now, even though I don’t have a territory anymore, I feel like I have more to call my own. I prefer it.”

Strange thing to admit, even stranger to admit it to Kurama, who seemed to understand.

“It’s remarkable how few demons understand that a desire to protect can be an equally powerful motivator. But I do.”

He seemed to want to say more, but then stopped; Mukuro felt it too, the searing, crackling energy of Hiei’s youki, filling the room just moments before he did.

“I hope you aren’t talking about me, Kurama,” Hiei cut in, scowling deeply. “I only ever said you were soft hearted. Nothing about your power.”

Kurama frowned at Hiei’s interruption, but his eyes were soft, and Mukuro could feel how his youki extended toward Hiei in greeting.

“But you said it so often it was impossible to ignore.” Mukuro fought hard to restrain her amusement at how Hiei’s eyes reflected red, like an angry cat’s. Kurama added, “Not that you need to worry—we were speaking of other things.”

We really were, Mukuro offered helpfully. Hiei met her gaze to check for any tells and, finding none, fixed his gaze back on Kurama.

“I thought you’d be done by now,” he said, moving around the table to Kurama’s side to look over his work. Mukuro felt his youki reach out and twine briefly around Kurama’s—a rather intimate gesture, for company.

“Forgive me, I didn’t realize we were on a schedule,” said Kurama laconically, raising an eyebrow at Mukuro over Hiei’s head. “What am I missing? Your next unfortunate enemy’s disembowelment?”

Mukuro gave in and laughed outright; Hiei looked singularly annoyed, glowering up at Kurama.

“Blame me if you must, Hiei,” said Mukuro fairly. “I just wanted to see how my guest was settling in and ended up distracting him.”

“Well enough,” said Kurama. “Your fortress is remarkable. I must ask, though, do the eyes embedded in the corridor actually watch you when you pass through, or are they simply for decoration?”

Mukuro couldn’t tell if Kurama was being sarcastic or genuine, but she could definitely taste Hiei’s impatience, radiating off him in waves; he wasn’t tapping his foot, but it was a very near thing.

“Does it matter?” she asked, imitating Kurama’s tone, the teasing cadence familiar. “That’s why I have Hiei. His Jagan will see all, even if they do not.”

Hiei’s annoyed bark cut across both her and Kurama’s laughter. “I’m not going to stick around for this idiocy. Kurama, when you’re done fooling around, you know where to find me.”

He stalked away, annoyed.

Kurama gathered up his materials. “I should follow him. I hope you don’t mind.”

“We can talk another time,” agreed Mukuro. Kurama gave her a sheepish smile, and headed out in Hiei’s wake.

It was nice to see that Kurama was willing to be unguarded in her presence, she thought, bending over the map herself, tracing the bend of an old and familiar river with the tip of her finger. Were it not for Hiei’s interruption, they could easily have kept up a civil conversation.

It was good knowledge to have. Almost comforting.

~

It didn’t surprise her that Hiei and Kurama were gone the next morning. Mukuro spent the day reviewing reports instead, trying to find a tactful way to turn down Natsume’s latest invitation to stay at her capital as a guest. She wouldn’t mind a good fight if the current King of Makai was in the right mood but, as she told Kurama, political maneuvering did not especially entice her at this time.

(Maybe she was getting old. Pathetic.)

It was a good day, if a mostly sedentary one, and by late afternoon her muscles were beginning to itch, her body reminding her that she hadn’t done her training exercises yet.

However, as she approached the training chambers, it surprised her to sense Hiei’s youki already there; he had returned without tripping her awareness earlier.

He wouldn’t have noticed her; Mukuro usually masked her youki, even within her own fortress. Half out of habit, the ability to be undetected to the last possible moment, and half out of amusement. Her staff might not appreciate their liege appearing out of nowhere, but she enjoyed making note of their various reactions. She didn’t do it out of distrust; truthfully, she didn’t care what her men got up to when she wasn’t around, as long as they fought competently and were not actively plotting treason.

Hiei was rarely bothered by this quirk of hers; she found she startled him more by confronting him directly. But for now, this allowed her to approach and observe without being observed in turn.

Hiei had his back against one of the many columns in the training chamber, knees drawn up, looking more relaxed than she had seen him in the past few months. Kurama was settled in front of him, with his back to Hiei’s chest. Both demons looked weatherworn, battered from the elements, not a fight.

“—don’t see why you thought I might get upset,” Kurama was saying, but without bite. His eyes were half-closed, and he seemed not to be keeping any weight off Hiei, leaning fully into the smaller demon. Hiei didn’t seem uncomfortable, his summoning hand twisting gently in Kurama’s hair, combing through it in an almost shockingly intimate gesture.

“I won’t have you accuse me of being free with your secrets, Kurama,” said Hiei, and there was more of a reproach. Mukuro watched with interest as Kurama winced; Hiei’s grip on his hair must have tightened.

“Careful,” said Kurama, a note of warning edging in, and Hiei relented on the pressure.
Kurama slumped back even closer against Hiei, enjoyment rumbling through him.

“I appreciate your concern for my privacy,” he murmured, his voice low enough that Mukuro almost couldn’t make out the words, and wouldn’t, were it not for her mechanical ear. “But Mukuro has been very gracious these last few days. There was no reason for you to be so defensive.”

Hiei gave a dismissive grunt, and Kurama laughed.

“I don’t see why it matters, fox. I thought you preferred to keep your true motivations obscured.”

“Well, yes, when I’m fighting, or I think someone will do me harm if I give them the right opening. Do you think that Mukuro would do me harm?” Kurama asked the question lightly, but Mukuro saw how Hiei tensed behind him, his usual frown firming into a thin line, his gaze intent on Kurama, not that he could see it.

“He knows I wouldn’t,” interrupted Mukuro, giving up and cutting through the center of the chamber. There were not many boundaries between herself and Hiei—what could be discussed, actions to be taken. But it was not worth it to risk angering him if this conversation was one of them.

“Mukuro.” Kurama made to sit up straight, but Hiei’s eyes flashed and his grip tightened and Kurama fell back against him. Mukuro cocked her head, intrigued by the reaction. Hiei wasn’t tensed for a fight, but he jutted his chin out at her as if in blatant insubordination. Focused on her as he was, Hiei didn’t see how Kurama twisted his head to look back at him, brows furrowed.

“That was rude of you,” said Hiei. Mukuro studied him, thoughtful. He didn’t look worried, but there was something flagrant about the way he kept Kurama to him. She was familiar with most of Hiei’s reactions to being surprised—this one was some synthesis of defensive and careless, and she filed it away for later consideration.

“I thought you found it refreshing,” said Mukuro pleasantly. Kurama’s shoulders shook with his amusement, and this time when he shifted to untangle himself from Hiei, her lieutenant permitted him to do so. She looked to him, and his open human face. “And I’m not offended, Kurama. But I’m not a patient grudgeholder. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you myself years ago.”

Kurama inclined his head, lowering his gaze for a breath; a brief show of submission. “I have no doubts on that matter.”

His voice was still pleasant and even, and gauging from Hiei’s lack of reaction, nothing to worry about.

Mukuro smiled. “Good. I’m surprised to see you back here so soon.”

Hiei grunted, and pushed himself to his feet with the aid of his sword. Kurama followed suit. “We just did a quick survey of the territory. Nothing interesting yet.”

“It was good to get reacquainted with the area,” Kurama offered, smiling slightly. “But your fortress covers ground very steadily, and we didn’t have the materials to be left behind, so we thought we would call it a day and plan for later instead. We were about to spar—you’re welcome to join us, if you wish.”

Mukuro waved them off. “Perhaps another time. I have my own exercises to go through today.” The mechanism in her shoulder felt a little off and needed testing—perhaps she should take the time to see Shigure about getting it fixed.

Still. Just because she won’t participate this time, doesn’t mean that she won’t take pleasure in watching.

Hiei’s feelings about fighting Kurama were complicated, though he hadn’t said it in so many words. Even when they had been preparing for war, and she had enjoyed the puzzle presented by Hiei’s Ningenkai team, that reluctance had always puzzled her. It was, without a doubt, one of the fascinating contradictions of Hiei, who seemed ready to fight anyone with a pulse and a modicum of strength.

She was very curious what non-serious fighting looked like.

~

It was spectacular.

Her fights with Hiei regularly pushed them both to near fatal limits, all in the sake of surpassing the old hurts and wounds and fears that might rear up and make them freeze at the moment it mattered most. It was a comfort, exhilarating, to fight him like that.

Hiei and Kurama’s fight was not nearly so brutal. They seemed to employ a system of points and touches to shift and pivot on offense and defense. Hiei did not unbind his arm even once, relying on his sword and his less lethal fire techniques. Kurama, who could end a fight before it ever started, also limited himself to reforming his plants as weapons themselves, rather than molding the very environment to suit his needs.

Another courtesy she appreciated; if he destroyed or otherwise impaired her beetle fortress, accidentally or not, she would be very put out.

Here in the chambers where she first tested Hiei’s power, where he became the first person to open up to her completely, she now watched him fight with a vitality and a light in his eyes that gave her heart to see. With such life, there was no danger of him leaving this plane before his time, so long as a chance for another fight like it might exist again.

Eventually, she turned her attention back to her own exercises and finished them, but the spectacle of a good fight was too stimulating, too engaging to want to return to the outside world.

Instead, she reached out telepathically to Shigure, tending to something in his own chambers.

Come see this.

The surgeon’s mind was well-guarded, so the telepathic touch was more akin to a knock than a command. But she barely had to wait; an affirmative pulse answered, and before long, she felt his physical presence draw up to her side, arms folded, to watch with her.

Kurama and Hiei have been aware of their audience, but gave no sign that it affected any of their calculations as they moved through their steps.

“Impressive,” murmured Shigure, his voice low so that only she could hear him.

“I thought so,” she agreed.

“Was there a lesson you wanted me to take from this, Lord Mukuro?”

“None in particular. More of a request, actually. A good fight begets a good fight.” She looked askance at him, admiring Shigure’s profile, the precious metal studs in his lip and face and ears. “And it’s been a while since we’ve fought.”

He looked down at her, his face calm and thoughtful.

“I could never refuse such a request from you,” he agreed, unhooking his blade from where he usually kept it over his shoulder.

She felt her blood quicken under her skin, and bared her teeth in anticipation.

“Good,” she said, and lashed out with a fist. He dodged, jumping to put distance between them, moving toward the further left section of the training chambers, where they could fight without interfering in Hiei and Kurama’s own duel.

She grinned, and followed.

~

“I may need to ask Kurama the story behind his whip before he leaves.” Shigure remarked later, when he was tending to her armor in her chambers, expertly repairing the damage he wrought. Not that Mukuro was willing to give him all the credit for her incapacitation—there had been something wrong in the mechanism in her shoulder, and it malfunctioned at a critical moment.

“If you ask, I’m sure he will tell you,” replied Mukuro, wincing as Shigure placed both hands on the joint for her shoulder and wrenched it, pulling at the edges of her scar tissue despite his care. “He’s not shy with his explanations, even when he’s keeping secrets.”

Shigure laughed. “I cannot blame him. None of us have lived this long without holding a few of our stories close.”

“No, but you seem determined to pry them out of us anyways,” retorted Mukuro. Shigure merely smiled in response. It wasn’t a strictly true statement—she’d known since he first entered her service that it was the story of the bandaged king that Shigure wished to unravel, rather than a bid for the prestige of serving her. She’d wondered idly at times if Shigure ever resented Hiei for getting to it first, but thought it unlikely; for Hiei it was a gesture of trust and shared pain. For Shigure, his interest was in finally hearing the story itself.

“Only because you have lived a remarkably rich life, Lord Mukuro,” he replied. “Every fragment you’ve seen fit to share with me now would be disassembled for a great lesson.”

Shigure’s concept of beauty was not always the same as Mukuro’s, but she did love to hear him speak of it, the reverence he had in his fascination, whether with words or with his hands, like how he assessed her now, checking carefully for anything out of place.

 “How does your shoulder feel now?”

“Better.”

Shigure nodded in approval, and removed his hands from her shoulders; immediately, she missed their firm weight. “Then I will take my leave.”

He made to stand and she stopped him. Her mechanical misfire had cut their spar short, but her blood was still thrumming and restless.

“Are you taking your leave because you wish to, or because you think I wish you to?”

Shigure did not shift away. “I assumed that you would wish to be alone. Of course, if I’m wrong…”

Mukuro smirked at him. “You are.”

A similar smile tugged at his own mouth. “Then, in that case, I will stay.”

~

Later, pleasantly aching, Mukuro watched lazily as Shigure redressed.

He was silent, then shifted to his feet, the only sound the rustling of cloth and the gentle metallic sounds from his adornments.

“What story is being told here, Lord Mukuro? With this fox under your roof?”

Mukuro reclined back on her bed, considering the question. “I’m not entirely sure. Hiei is up to something, but I couldn’t tell you what.”

“You have your suspicions.”

Mukuro inclined her head. He faced her fully.

“Are you concerned?”

“Kurama is my guest,” said Mukuro simply. “He’s not a snake in the grass. I have a particular interest in him because of Hiei’s welfare, but I don’t think there’s anything untoward. Let me know if you happen to observe anything to the contrary, of course. But I would prefer that you do not offer any speculation of your own.”

Shigure’s mouth gave a sardonic twist, though his eyes still watched her keenly. “I had no intentions of playing a part, Lord Mukuro, beyond what you designate for me.”

Mukuro flicked her fingers at him, pointedly rolling her eyes. “Oh, enough with the obsequious attitude. Good night, Shigure. Thank you for your company.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Mukuro,” said Shigure quietly. He placed his fist over his heart, bowed, and departed.

~

Hiei and Kurama set out for the eastern mountains the next morning, and were gone for a full three days. They returned late in the afternoon on the third day, battered but pleased, laden down with a small fortune of precious treasures divided. Hiei, she would go so far to describe as relaxed, at least in the sense that he didn’t feel the need to justify himself with his usual insults.

Once a thief, always a thief.

They retreated to their quarters, and Mukuro assumed that they wouldn’t be available for the rest of the night, so she was startled when passing through that hall, that Kurama’s door was open, and that he stuck his head out as she approached.

“Lord Mukuro? Do you have a moment?”

Surprised but curious, Mukuro entered Kurama’s room, following him to the desk set up in the corner of the room. Across its surface was an alarming quantity of jewelry, tangled in a great snarl. A number of smaller pieces had been carefully extracted and laid out in a row at the bottom—rings, earrings, necklaces, and other materials. One piece in particular drew her eye—a curl of jade, studded with pinpricks of gems, meant to rest in the curve of the ear.

“You’ve been busy,” she observed, keeping her hands behind her back as she leaned forward, taking in the pieces. Her mechanical eye could detect nothing enchanted about any of these objects—valuable for trade and interest, but not useful. “Are these yours, or did you relieve some unfortunate creature of his riches?”

“Oh, these are from my own stores in the mountains,” said Kurama, smiling. “Some new bandits had moved into the area and tried to protest, but we were able to handle them.”

“Of course.” She straightened up. “I’m surprised; I thought that Youko Kurama had an eye for more potent magical treasures.”

“We all start somewhere. These were from my youth, before I really started building a reputation.” Kurama’s eyes were soft with memory, a gentle smile across his lips. “I have not been to that part of Makai in some time. It was more beautiful than I remembered. Greener.”

He scooped up a few of the detangled pieces and held them out to her.

“I hope this isn’t your way of trying to repay my hospitality. I’m not looking to indebt you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of insulting you in such a way,” Kurama assured her. “Besides, I’m sure that Hiei has already deposited most of his share into your treasury. I’d rather have your eyes: how do these pieces look to you?”

Mukuro blinked, briefly confused. She didn’t wear jewelry—first because she’d never owned any, then because they seemed likely to get in the way during a fight. There was Hiei’s tear gem, but it was passed between them as a promise, rather than adornment.

“Shigure actually wears jewelry,” she observed drily. “He might be a better judge of what looks right for you.”

Kurama’s smile took on a hard edge. “I don’t think Shigure and I are yet on casual terms. I was considering bringing some of these pieces back to Ningenkai as gifts.”

“And I am a paragon of women’s tastes?”

Her tone was intentionally bone dry, and Kurama shook his head, amused.

“Not that, though I do value your opinion. On these pieces, do you notice anything strange with that eye of yours? I don’t sense any particular curses, but one can never be too careful with these things. Do you?”

Ah. Now that made more sense. Mukuro looked closely, at the pieces Kurama had separated out, and shook her head.

“Nothing is giving off any warnings. As you said, these are just very fine pieces, but they have no particular properties.”

“As I thought, thank you.”

“Who are these for?”

“My brother’s wife, his daughter. Yukina—though I’ll ask Hiei what he thinks—and Shizuru. Keiko is the one I am the least sure about.”

“Keiko…” Mukuro repeated, frowning. She remembered the name but took a moment to place the face.

“Yusuke’s wife,” elaborated Kurama. He held up an oval piece of aquamarine, nested in a simple silver setting. “Yusuke likes to get her blue pieces, so I thought I’d show this to him and see if he thinks she would like it.”

“It seems nice.” Mukuro offered, a little awkwardly.

“I think so, too.”

“How is Urameshi doing these days? I’ve hardly seen him at the last few tournaments.” The inquiry slipped out before she really consciously considered it.

“He’s well. Very preoccupied with his children—they are half-grown now, very smart and prone to mischief. Same with Keiko, though she’s still teaching. Still doesn’t let Yusuke get away with anything.”

“Good. Raizen’s boy deserves a good smack from time to time.” Mukuro grinned. “She’s human, right?”

“Correct.”

“How does Yusuke manage that?”

Kurama gave her a long, considering look. “Better, I would say,” he replied. “He grew up as a human. Being reborn as a demon doesn’t have much of an effect on his family life.”

“And in the future?”

Kurama’s hands and smile both faltered, and Mukuro saw the lively spark behind his eyes dim, and then return, and he kept sorting through the treasures as if it hadn’t happened.

“Now, that question is not one that I cannot answer. He’s said that he expects to return to Makai after everything, but if truth be told, Yusuke doesn’t like to talk of death with me, or anyone. He very much lives in the moment. Much like Hiei, actually.”

“Hmph, that does seem right.” She watched Kurama, and how he was turned away from her, head bent over the treasure, meticulously starting to take out the smaller pieces, unsnarling the mass of wealth into smaller, individual pieces. “Do you have your own ideas?”

He shrugged, but the casual motion was uneasy on him. There was that strange pulse in his youki again, twitching, restless. “We’ll see. Yusuke has died twice, and knows it more deeply than even I do. But I don’t think he’ll handle Keiko’s death, or Kuwabara’s, with such equanimity. He’s impulsive. I am…concerned for him. But, even if age does temper his reactions, I don’t know if he would return to Makai while his children lived.”

“What about you, who doesn’t have children? Unless Hiei has forgotten to mention any…”

Mukuro’s amusement spilled over, unable to maintain her mask of neutrality at Kurama’s annoyed glance, though she could feel the irregularity of his youki smooth back out. She reached out to unhook a handful of gold cords from the pile and started to systematically pull them apart.

“Don’t give me that look, old fox. No need to puff up like that. I only mean to ask about your own situation, if you had similar plans.”

Kurama reflexively put his hand through his hair, as if grooming himself; belatedly, the back of Mukuro’s neck prickled as her fight-or-flight response kicked in, remembering that gesture from how many fights…but no, the way he carded his fingers through his hair was not to grasp a seed. Just self-consciousness.

“I’m aware,” said Kurama, still mild, though the annoyance in his eyes was not. He pulled out the chair by the desk and took a seat, crossing his legs, gesturing for her to sit as well. She remained standing, though she angled her body toward him; no need to guard herself here, or to give any suggestion that she was wary.

“I don’t mean to unsettle you, Kurama.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s entirely true.” His voice was flat. Fair enough, it wasn’t, but given that unsettling others was a particular hobby of Kurama’s, Mukuro didn’t feel any particular need to justify herself to him.

“I’m just interested in your plans because it tells me something of what Hiei will get up to in the next few decades. If he’ll actually try to become the next King of Makai, or if we’ll just stick to patrol duty.”

“What does Hiei have to do with your patrol duty?” asked Kurama, tilting his head. “I thought you preferred it to bargaining.”

“For me, it lets me have my independence,” she said simply. “Most demons aren’t jumping at the chance to look after a few stray humans, and keeping this assignment makes it that much more difficult for Natsume to try to strong-arm me into any other duties in the Makai government. As for Hiei, It’s remarkably easy to pretend you don’t belong to two worlds when your life is already spent along their border.”

“I did wonder about that,” said Kurama, more to himself than to her. Out of courtesy, Mukuro did not offer a reply. “If you’re waiting for me to return fully, then you have at least half a century to relax.”

“Hmph. That will annoy Hiei.”

Kurama’s eyes glittered. “As Hiei often reminds me, fifty years is hardly any time at all. I’m sure he can wait. I intend to slip out only when I’m no longer needed.”

Mukuro sensed that she was quite possibly about to tread on a fox’s tail as it were, and to best tread wisely.

“And when will that be, exactly?” Hiei drawled from the doorway, before Mukuro could respond.

“As long as it takes,” replied Kurama evenly, though Mukuro saw how his hands closed tightly in his lap.

 Hiei—who had no compunction about treading on tails—closed the door behind him (though how he opened it without alerting either of them was an open question) and wandered over, his hands in his pockets.

“Even after what you’ve seen these last few days? You can’t tell me that human business of yours is more interesting. You might actually die of boredom if you wait out your intended time there.”

“Well, no, I think that might be a little much,” said Kurama. His faint exasperation told Mukuro that this was a familiar argument. “I have some plans that will make it easier for me to withdraw from the public eye. But I won’t leave them hanging.”

There was that prickle in her neck again—that was challenge in Kurama’s voice, directed right at Hiei, not quite as playful as usual. Hiei’s eyes flashed, and Mukuro subtly shifted back on her heel; she wouldn’t interfere in a fight that wasn’t hers, but that strange thing that she had been sensing since Kurama’s appearance here was prickling at her.

Then Hiei gave a small snort of laughter, breaking the subtle tension in the room.

“As if anyone would be enough of an idiot to persuade you otherwise,” he said. Kurama blinked, his expression softened with a confusion that Mukuro was sure was mirrored on her own face.
Oblivious to both of them, Hiei turned his attention to the treasures, head cocked. “Are you almost done yet? We let the day get any later and your old eyes might have trouble hunting in the dark.”

Belatedly, Kurama shook himself out of whatever caught him offguard. Then he smiled, serene mask back on place. Or so Mukuro suspected—nothing had been resolved, just set aside for another time.

“Patience is a hunter’s best weapon,” he retorted, gathering up the chosen pieces in his hands again, accepting the neat bands of gold that Mukuro had untangled. “Give me a minute to get this sorted out, and I’ll be ready.”

Hiei simply grunted, turning his body to lean against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for Kurama to finish his work.

Unbidden, he asked, since when do you and Kurama need to speak alone?

Jealousy does not become you, was her tart reply. He scoffed. From the corner of her eye, she saw how Kurama’s hands hesitated, as they swept the jewelry away. She wondered if he held a similar connection with Hiei, before dismissing it; Kurama’s human and demon forms were so densely interwoven that mindreading would be a near impossible task. Even if it wasn’t, the fox was a little too private for regular telepathic contact.

“Enjoy your kill. Try not to get too much blood all over my floor when you bring it in,” she said, moving to stand properly, and leave the room.

“Mukuro.”

She turned back. Kurama had straightened from his task, the desk now clean, and approached her with his hand extended.

“For you,” he said, and she looked down and saw the little jade ear ornament resting in his palm, the dragon’s garnet eyes glittering up at her. When she looked at him in askance, he smiled and said, “It is a beautiful piece. I think it would suit you very well.”

She took it from him, the jade warm in her own palm. She ignored Hiei, now standing upright, and held the ornament up so that its eyes were level with her own, then carefully affixed it within the shell of her ear. The weight wasn’t unpleasant; most wouldn’t be able to even see it, the way her hair usually fell.

“What do you think?” she asked Hiei, who watched the exchange with narrowed eyes.

But then he seemed to lose his annoyance and inclined his chin in a tiny nod.

“You can usually trust Kurama’s taste in these matters,” he said. “If not in clothing.”

“No need for insults, Hiei,” chided Kurama, pure affection in his tone, and Mukuro felt the balance in the room stabilize.

For all of her love of chaos, Mukuro did not fight her way into kingship of a third of the known territory of Makai without a very sensitive ear for politicking and power struggles. While she preferred to fight her way through a problem, she was careful with how she paced her actions, however carelessly she spoke of battle and slaughter.

It was a game Hiei could play as well, though not nearly with as much subtlety, though she would give him credit for doing so well in a game with a thousand year old fox. He recognized that his usual displays of power were useless and plotted accordingly.

~

Hiei and Kurama’s next excursion lasted longer—nearly six days this time, after two full days of planning. The few times she saw them together before they left, they behaved with the familiarity she expected, even with occasional moments of intimacy that spilled out into the open, like that first moment in the training chambers.

What did surprise her, was how Hiei seemed to take initiative in these moments. It was a…a display of some kind, though she didn’t know if it was for her, or for the other patrolmen and underlings that inhabited her fortress and included Makai’s top fighters. Mukuro doubted that Hiei could fake affection, whether duress or his own inclinations, but she could sense something else roiling underneath, something that made Kurama’s eyes go flinty and give the impression of a caged animal. It wasn’t a fight, exactly, but there was some strange dynamic shifting between him and Hiei, and she couldn’t figure out what it was.

~

Somehow, it was entirely unsurprising that Yomi would be the one to crack it all open. For a demon with such a restrained, orderly mind, he certainly hadn’t lost the ability to stir up trouble.

Mukuro and Yomi were not close. But they understood each other, in the way that only ancient enemies locked in a centuries-long stalemate could understand each other, so perhaps it didn’t matter.

Either way, he occasionally turned up for a visit. Unlike Mukuro, he hadn’t kept his men or fortresses, renouncing them all for the sake of his son’s development. Considering his love of technology, she was impressed by how easily he turned up in the wilds of Makai, remarkably put together.

However, his manners did not extend to advance notice for any of his sporadic visits; he just showed up when he was ready. And, rather conveniently, he showed up in her receiving chamber barely an hour after Hiei and Kurama’s own return.

What the hell is he doing here? Hiei snarled at the back of her mind, barely seconds before her guard announced Yomi’s request to enter.

Sometimes, she truly loved how much Hiei hated other people. It gave her such peace of mind. Yomi must have masked his own youki—unfortunately, he had picked up that trick from Kurama in the past, because she doubts that either of them would have concealed that from her.

There were coincidences, of course. Mukuro did not believe Yomi to be capable of them.
In the shadows behind her chair, Shigure shifted, ready for her signal, if she cared to give it. She didn’t give it, but it was good to have him nearby.

It’s sweet that you think I know. We’ll find out, she said to Hiei, before turning her full attention back to Yomi, halfway out of his elegant bow.

“Don’t bother with pleasantries,” she said, before Yomi could even open his mouth. Two steps behind him, his son snickered, though the boy had the sense to cover his mouth. Mukuro honored him with a cursory glance; he had grown significantly since the last time she’d seen him, only half a foot of height separating him and his father now, his hair starting to grow long. Were it not for his eyes, still vivid and insouciant, it would be difficult to tell them apart.

Yomi did not react so visibly to Mukuro’s interruption, though the corners of his lips tipped up into a rueful smile.

“My dear Mukuro. Quick as ever. Corralling humans has certainly kept you sharp these last few years.”

Mukuro wondered if Yomi could hear her rolling her eyes. It wasn’t improbable. She hoped he could. Bastard.

“Is this a social visit?” she asked, reclining back in her chair, her face cupped in her palm, hooking one knee over the other. “Or is there a purpose to this appearance?”

Yomi inclined his head at her. “I did hear that Kurama was staying with you,” he said, utterly calm, like a mirrored lake. Mukuro longed to chuck a rock at him, see if it would break. “If he wishes to see me, I am happy to speak with him. I wouldn’t dare impose on your hospitality if I wasn’t wanted.”

Oh, he was so full of shit. Mukuro smiled at him, showing all of her teeth, enough to make Shura take a hasty step backwards, though Yomi remained where he was, waiting politely for her response.

What do you think? she asked Hiei, who was seething.

I don’t want to see him, snarled Hiei.

What about Kurama?

There was a sulky pause—presumably, Hiei speaking to Kurama; Mukuro made a point of not listening in. Instead, she waited, drumming her fingers against the arm of her chair. Yomi did not even twitch, as if he was perfectly comfortable to spend hours in that position, awaiting her verdict.

Then Hiei’s consciousness brushed hers, prickly with irritation. Oh dear.

The fool is on his way down, said Hiei tightly, before snapping off the connection. Mukuro restrained her wince, though she frowned slightly at the abrupt closure of their mental link.

Yomi was already turning toward the main entranceway, as Kurama and, somewhat to Mukuro’s surprise, Hiei stepped through. Their grim expressions were twinned between them, though where Kurama’s youki was still a picture of calm restraint, Hiei’s was bristling.

“Kurama.” Yomi’s voice was warm. Conciliatory. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed.” Kurama inclined his head to Yomi—an acknowledgement of familiarity, if not friendliness. Hiei circumvented Yomi and Shura without acknowledging them and took his usual place at Mukuro’s side, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His expression was flat, as if bored by everything about this situation, even if his stance and youki hadn’t very much announced the exact opposite reaction.

“I didn’t realize that your travels had taken you to this part of Makai,” said Kurama. Mukuro didn’t know him well enough to translate if Kurama’s tone was sincere or indicated that if he had known Yomi would be around, he would’ve turned around and walked right in the opposite direction. His hands were still folded behind his back; in the corner of her eye, Hiei’s grip tightened on his sword.

“Oh, they usually don’t,” said Yomi, still pleasant. “I try not to incite Lord Mukuro’s anger any more than necessary.”

That was true enough, Mukuro was forced to admit, though she didn’t offer any verbal confirmation. Hiei scoffed. Mukuro reached out, and found his mind was still shut to hers.

What was getting him so upset? It would be an intriguing puzzle, if Yomi wasn’t right here in the room with them.

“How thoughtful of you.” Kurama nodded at Yomi’s son, with considerably more warmth. “It’s good to see you again, Shura.”

“You, too, Kurama.” Shura returned with a flash of teeth. “You owe me a rematch.”

“Shura,” warned Yomi.

“What?” demanded Shura, reddening a little. “I thought you said this was a good chance to have a real opponent.”

Mukuro’s lips twitched, despite her determination to maintain her unimpressed mask. It was difficult for her to picture Yomi as young and hotblooded once, but Shura certainly helped her form a fairly accurate picture.

“Well, if that’s all this intrusion is about,” drawled Hiei, stepping forward. “I heard you can actually last a few minutes now without getting knocked on your ass, brat. I’ve had a long day—that might give you a fraction of a chance.”

“Easy,” said Mukuro, at the same time Kurama said “Hiei,” with the exact same intonation and it shouldn’t be funny, how Hiei’s face flushed and his head snapped between the two of them, but it was. Shura visibly brightened.

“Hell yeah! You’ll need your dragon if you want to take me on,” crowed Shura, and a smirk twisted up Hiei’s face and now Mukuro was definitely sure if that this wasn’t a good idea.

Yomi, the bastard, remained unperturbed.

“Shura, you can’t just challenge for a fight. It’s rather rude.” He hadn’t looked away from Kurama. “I just thought we could catch up. It won’t take much time at all.”

Now he turned away, toward Mukuro again—not that it mattered, but she appreciated the formality of it.

“Mukuro, if you’re busy—”

Kurama’s face was set with his icy mask, but when Mukuro looked directly at him and arched an eyebrow, his expression softened, and he gave a tiny nod. So he wanted to see this through. Very well, he was her guest.

“Even if I was, how could I refuse?” Mukuro cut him off, as if wondering aloud. She rose from her chair. “Let’s go down to the training chambers, then. There’s plenty of room to fight or talk, if you’re so inclined. But no offense, Yomi; I’d rather not let you out of my sight.”

“Of course,” agreed Yomi. He turned to look at Kurama again. “I was going to suggest that you watch, anyways. Shura’s technique has improved greatly from his training with you—enough to make any teacher proud.”

“I would be honored,” said Kurama after a moment. He was still wary, his frame tense, but not quite as intent as it was when he first saw Yomi.

“Then shall we?” asked Mukuro, and headed out without waiting to see if any of them would follow her; they would.

Her fortress, her rules.

~

Shura charged at Hiei as soon as they entered the training chambers, and Hiei reacted in kind, blurring as he dodged, goading Shura toward the central area. Shigure circled toward the opposite wall of the chamber for his observation; Mukuro stayed near the wall, arms folded, watching. Yomi and Kurama stood apart.

It was a good demonstration—Shura moved faster and with more precision than when Mukuro last saw him fight. Hiei was holding back, but Mukuro could taste the sharp ember spike of his youki, rising to match an opponent worth the effort. Still not his full power, but he was taking Shura’s strike seriously.

If only she could pay full attention, but the conversation to her left was too concerning. Mukuro kept her eyes on the fight; while a normal demon might not hear as well at this distance, her augmented hearing could pick it up just fine. It wasn’t an ability she broadcast widely, but it came in useful at times like this.

“What’s your assessment?” Yomi was asking Kurama now. “He’s improved, hasn’t he?”

“Indeed,” said Kurama, allowing his own surprise to show. Real or strategic? Mukuro wasn’t certain. “You’ve done well with him over the years. His discipline is greatly improved.”

“A high compliment, coming from you,” said Yomi, as Shura unleashed a blast of energy that sent Hiei through two pillars. He didn’t seem put off, only grinned wider and levered himself off the ground with his sword, leaping forward with a fist of black fire. Shura yelped as he was pushed to the defensive, dodging and weaving through the room to avoid being scorched. “He still has a ways to go.”

“Of course. But he’s quite young. He has a while yet to find his feet.”

“That he does,” said Yomi, and was that real pride in his voice? Mukuro smiled privately to herself; how strange to hear Yomi be warm. “Parenthood is not what I expected. Though I assume most offspring don’t regularly offer their parent an honorable death.”

“It suits you.”

“I suppose.” There was another silence, perhaps contemplative, but Mukuro tensed. It felt like waiting for a snake to strike. She could feel Kurama’s own stiffness even from this distance. He tensed further at Yomi’s next words.

“It’s a strange bond, between a child and a parent. Even if our circumstances weren’t so unusual, it’s more than I expected.”

“Indeed.” Kurama’s voice could have frosted the forests outside. Mukuro repressed a shudder. In front of her, Hiei’s assault stuttered, giving Shura an opening to strike back.

“What are you trying to say, Yomi?” asked Kurama, his voice like ice.

“Just that I think I understand your choices better now than I once did,” said Yomi. “And with that understanding, I wanted to offer my condolences.”

Mukuro could hear Kurama’s teeth grind, with how tightly he clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax. “Who told you?”

“Some mutual friends.”

“That’s impossible.” Kurama’s voice was glacial. “What new strategy are you gathering information for?”

“Relax, Kurama. I didn’t invade your privacy. I’d heard that you’d taken a leave of absence from your responsibilities in the human world, and that you’d been unreachable for the last few months before that. I’ll admit I was curious, but I promise you, it was nothing more than that.”

Yomi actually sounded sincere. From her mechanical eye, hidden behind a glass, Mukuro saw Kurama’s surprise, then wary acceptance.

“It was…sooner than we expected,” said Kurama, his own tone still carefully guarded. “I appreciate your sentiment. Thank you.”

Mukuro frowned. There was that exhaustion again in Kurama’s voice, but deeper. He sounded old now, closer to his true age. His youki had unraveled, like that first night, like that occasional other times when it seemed…strange.

She turned to observe them properly. No point in hiding—if they wanted this to be a private conversation, they could have had it somewhere else.

“Now that she’s gone, when do you plan to return to Makai?”

“You sound like Hiei.” Kurama shook his head. He didn’t seem to notice Mukuro watching them. Or, more likely, he noticed, but didn’t care.

“Hm, I’m not surprised. He seems like an impatient one. You certainly had a type, don’t you, Kurama?”

Kurama’s youki spiked again, quickly smothered, but Mukuro nearly flinched. The fight stuttered and moved faster, blurs of black and purple moving even faster around the columns, even smashing some.

“I don’t see how that matters to this conversation.”

“It doesn’t. It’s just an observation.”

“I have a life in Ningenkai,” said Kurama, clipped. He took a deep breath, binding his youki close to his skin. “I intend to see it through before returning to Makai. If I do.”

“What other choice would you have? Wasting away in Ningenkai? You’re still a demon.”

“I never said I wasn’t. But human affairs are complicated. I still have some that I intend to see through.”

“I would have never imagined it, not with such short lifespans. But I could hardly expect anything else from you.”

“Nor I from you.” Kurama’s voice was tight.

“Your heartrate’s accelerating. Am I troubling you, Kurama?”

“You’re annoying me, nothing more.”

“I’m not trying to anger you.”

“Perhaps not. But forgive me if I’m still a little wary about hearing you speak of plans with me. Once you start calculating, you’ve never stopped.”

“It’s a difficult lesson to unlearn. And, frankly, the same could apply to you. Makai has only grown more complicated since you’ve been gone, Kurama.I assume that you’d want to plan your reentry carefully.”

“What does it matter if I did?”

“Well, then I’d want to pay attention to what you’re doing here, and what games you’re playing as the pet of Mukuro’s top warrior.”

“Yomi.”

“Merely an observation, Kurama. Given his aspirations to win the Makai Tournament, and your own theory about second in commands, you must admit my conclusions are not unreasonable.”

“I’m nobody’s pet.”

“Don’t I know that well. But you’ll be alone in Ningenkai, soon. Now would be as good a time as any to plant those seeds, as it were.”

Kurama’s youki snapped, again, and fuck it. Mukuro turned to cut in, at her limit, but a loud blast interrupted their conversation.

Hiei stood before them, sword out, and gestured toward Yomi. His eyes were sparking. Beyond them, Shura lay crumpled in a heap, out cold, dispatched with Hiei’s usual efficiency. Yomi started forward, face tight, but his path was blocked by Hiei.

“He’s not bad,” said Hiei, smirking widely, youki pouring out of him in wide arcs. “Now it’s your turn.”

The creases on Yomi’s face deepened momentarily, before being replaced with his usual inscrutable mask, smooth and lightly pleasant.

“Why, Hiei, is this how you treat all of your guests?”

“Yes,” said Hiei, and attacked.

~

That fight was briefer, and far more deadly. However powerful Hiei had become in the intervening years, he wasn’t ready to face Yomi at full strength.

“No internal injuries,” Shigure reported, helping a conscious Shura to his feet. “He expended a lot of youki, but nothing that a couple days of recuperation shouldn’t fix.”

Kurama hovered over Hiei’s still form, forming a sort of oxygen mask from a seed in his hair. His eyes, when his gaze met Mukuro’s, had the cold glow of crystals.

Mukuro turned stonily to Yomi.

“You need to leave.”

~

“What the hell were you thinking?” asked Kurama, afterwards.

Mukuro wanted to know the same thing, which was why she refused to leave the room. Yomi and Shura were long gone, Shura restored by Kurama’s healing, Yomi only lightly singed. Kurama had not offered to heal him, and Yomi hadn’t asked.

Now it was just the three of them in Hiei’s room. Hiei wasn’t injured enough to require time in her healing tanks, but the simmering fury between him and Kurama as Kurama tended to him promised blood, and she preferred to be nearby if she had to intervene.

“What were you thinking?” Hiei snapped back. “Letting yourself be drawn back into Yomi’s games.”

“It’s different. I have no quarrel with Yomi.”

“Oh really?” Hiei’s words were tight and clipped—whether from anger or withheld pain was unclear. “Then what did he say?”

Kurama’s hands never stopped in their quick, efficient motion as he bandaged Hiei’s arm. “Nothing of importance.”

“Don’t lie to me. Your youki spoke plenty.”

“That is no reason to strike at him. Yomi is not to be trifled with—”

“I didn’t trifle with him.”

“No?” asked Kurama curtly, grabbing Hiei’s arm and twisting it, hard, to reset. Hiei sucked air through gritted teeth at the pain, somehow making it sound like a wounded cat. “All you did was prove that you still had a temper.”

“He was trying to provoke you, wasn’t he?”

“Not any more than usual.”

“That’s not an excuse—”

“You don’t have an excuse,” said Mukuro, cutting between the two, and the identical offended faces that met her interruption was almost funny. “Not one worth using, at any rate.”

“This conversation doesn’t involve you,” Hiei snapped.

“No, but there is one I need to have with you.” She looked to Kurama. “He’s not in danger of bleeding out. Give me a minute alone with him.”

“Take your time.” Kurama’s voice was clipped. “I need to make a poultice for whatever’s left of his back.”

“End of the hall has spare supplies, if you need them,” said Mukuro. Kurama gave her a curt nod in acknowledgement, and quickly left the room, and Hiei’s burning stare.

Kurama’s steps faded down the hall as the silence grew between Mukuro and Hiei. Hiei’s arms were loose in his lap, but his entire body was taut with tension.

“Well?” Hiei demanded. “What are you going to say?”

Mukuro approached Hiei, and took a seat on his bed. It felt strange; she didn’t often spend much time in his private quarters. Long after they had warmed up and become so integral to each other, this space had always been understood to be his alone. How interesting, that Kurama kept bringing her to these parts of Hiei, previously unknown.

She reached out and wound a fist in his hair, bringing his face close to hers. Hiei permitted it, glowering.

“I have no intention of interfering in whatever argument is between the two of you.”

Hiei snorted. “Could have fooled me.”

She gave him a little shake. “Regardless, it’s true. But it’s impossible not to notice how you’ve been acting out. I told you that possessiveness wasn’t your best quality, so what are you trying to do, Hiei?”

He held her gaze without blinking. Then he surrendered, closing his eyes and heaving a deep sigh.

“I’m not trying to be possessive,” he muttered. “I was useless in Ningenkai, with all those human rites and customs. And they weren’t helping him— so I told him he should come here. I promised him that no one would bother him. It’s my responsibility.”

Mukuro nodded, and released her grip on his hair, carding her fingers all the way through instead. Hiei exhaled in relief, wincing as her fingernails scraped at his scalp.

“And pushing for him to make Makai his home?”

Hiei bared his teeth in a passable grin. “It’s an old argument, Mukuro. But Yomi’s wrong; Kurama’s not alone yet, and won’t be for a number of years longer. Even I know that.”

“I understand. You were still out of line in attacking a guest of mine.”

“Under no circumstances could Yomi ever be a guest.”

“Regardless, you do it again and I will punch another hole through your chest myself.”

Hiei laughed, doubling over to hold his ribs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When he straightened up, he was turned intently toward the door again. Mukuro didn’t need to reach out with her own youki to know it was Kurama, even before she heard his footfalls into the room, a fresh set of bandages in his hands.

“Ready to apologize?” Kurama asked lightly, like a glass knife.

“No,” said Hiei. Kurama’s face darkened.

“Hiei—”

“He was hurting you.”

Kurama’s hands hesitated, and Mukuro watched Kurama’s face soften briefly, before the mask was clipped back into place.

“Just so you know, this isn’t the better alternative,” Kurama informed him, though this time when he pulled Hiei forward, to tape a medicinal patch to the open wound at Hiei’s back, he handled him far more gently. His youki was smoother when it reached out to intertwine with Hiei’s as was normal.

“I agree with Kurama,” said Mukuro, relaxing as the tension diffused.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” demanded Hiei. “You looked ready to fight him too.”

“Yes, but I didn’t,” said Mukuro, ignoring how Kurama turned toward her, surprised, and lifting her eyebrow pointedly at Hiei. “You’re still young, but you’re not that young. The next time you try to challenge a former lord of Makai to a duel, try not to let all of your guts spill out of your body.”

“Then next time, you better fix your aim,” said Hiei.

“Hiei!” Kurama scolded. Still smirking, Mukuro left the room, only briefly brushing her mind against Hiei’s, promising, we’ll talk soon.

Don’t eavesdrop.

Don’t be loud, she retorted, and was rewarded by a flood of indignant embarrassment before she cut the connection.

~

She expected Hiei in her rooms, once he and Kurama settled whatever business was still between them; instead, however, she was surprised by a knock at her bedroom door, and the polite press of Kurama’s youki, waiting to be let in.

He entered only when she called out the command, and kept his distance, standing with his hands folded behind his back. How formal of him. She found herself a little disappointed that he stood so far back—surely now he should know that she had no intention of threatening him.

“How can I help you, Kurama?” she asked, masking her disappointment.

“I wanted to thank you,” said Kurama. “For mediating between me and Yomi today.”

Was he mocking her? But no—she’d heard Kurama be mocking before; the tone wasn’t right. “So poorly? If I just turned him away, we could have avoided this entire incident.”

“Yes. But I wished to speak with him, and you honored that request. And you were paying attention. I…appreciate it. And I wish to demonstrate that.”

“Oh?” Now that was intriguing. She gestured again to Hiei’s usual seat. This time, he relented and took it. She took the opposite chair, facing him with interest. “In what form? Even I know better than to accept gifts from fox demons without care.”

Kurama smiled humorlessly. “As you should. But I have not been forthcoming with you, and I feel that I need to correct that. So, I have two things: an answer to the question you first asked when I came to this fortress, and a truthful answer to whatever question you wish to know about me.”

“Provided it doesn’t threaten your own survival?”

Kurama didn’t return her smile.

“I trust that you are not trying to play a game against me,” he said, honestly.

How interesting. She knew better than to trust a fox, but here was Kurama, sitting in her most private chambers, without Hiei’s protection, bereft of any extra plant life, right in the seat of her power, and offering her information, and trusting she would not use it against him.

And being right, damn him. No wonder Hiei got so annoyed by him.

“Well,” said Mukuro, sitting back. “Do I get the answer, or the question first?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

Well, from one vain creature to another, then.

“What do you think of me?” asked Mukuro, for she never flinched away from such questions. Kurama didn’t flinch either, but he also didn’t answer immediately. Very well—it was not meant to be a trap, but Mukuro appreciated that Kurama saw it as worthy of caution.

“Are you asking for my opinion on you in general, or my opinion of you in relation to Hiei?” Kurama inquired, almost playfully, though his eyes were still intent.

“Both, if possible.” Because while Hiei was probably knocked unconscious, recovering from his wounds, there was always a chance he would still try to break up this little tete a tete; she couldn’t imagine any pleasure to be had in having two of the people who knew him best openly discussing him—it sounded singularly unpleasant.

On his side, anyways.

“Hiei,” said Kurama, pronouncing his name with resigned affection she found touchingly familiar, “has told me absolutely nothing of value about you. His loyalty, I assure you, is complete.”

“I wasn’t looking for assurance,” said Mukuro. “That can’t surprise you, given your own history.”

Kurama inclined his head in agreement. “No, but I know Hiei’s loyalty is not easy to win. You speak to him in a way that no one else can. I would not have responded well to your training regime.”

“Well, if I had a thousand-year-old fox for my pupil rather than an apparition just barely out of his first century, I would have chosen different tactics. Especially for one as wily as you.”

Mukuro wanted to tease him a little, and was disappointed when Kurama only spared her a quick, assessing glance in response.

“Regardless, you reached him. And I’ve always been grateful for what you’ve done for him.”

His admission was labored—Kurama’s voice was even, but she saw how his knuckles whitened when he clenched them.

“He certainly didn’t make it easy,” said Mukuro reflectively. “I nearly lost him more than once.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Hiei’s stubborn.”

“So are you, from what he’s told me.”

Kurama’s eyes narrowed, and there’s the reaction she’s been looking for. “Yes. There is the troubling side of this matter. You have my respect, Mukuro, but forgive me if I’m wary of how much knowledge of me was given willingly.”

Ah, there was the crux of the matter, thought Mukuro, with no small measure of satisfaction. Good to know.

“Says Yomi’s former spymaster,” Mukuro rebuked. Kurama’s shoulders tensed, and she could almost see the fur bristling, but then he straightened again, resigned and amused.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he murmured, with a touch of humility. Very fetching.

“You do,” agreed Mukuro. “But, since you are answering my question so honestly, let me return the favor: Hiei has never shared any of your secrets with me. I know events, and his complaints of your behavior, and some vague details that paint a sort of picture of your arrangement. But your reasons, or what Hiei knows of your reasons, have always been hidden from me.”

“I see.”

“In fact, Hiei is annoyingly tight-lipped where you are concerned,” said Mukuro, “Apart from switching between praising your brilliance and bemoaning your sense of humor.”

Kurama’s eyebrow twitched. “With some jabs about my humanity, I presume, for variety.”

“Once,” she gave him a long look. “But that seems to have passed.”

“I suppose it has.” Kurama sighed, and folded his hands in front of him on the table.
“I shouldn’t be so harsh on him; he just worried me.” He looked up at her. “Did you understand what Yomi was talking about?”

“I have an idea,” said Mukuro, carefully. “Is it the answer you were speaking of?”

Kurama gave a tight nod. “About three months back, my mother, Minamino Shiori, died in her sleep. Natural causes.”

There it was. So Kurama’s slipping control, his occasional curtness, that strange undertone to his youki—grief.

“I’m sorry to hear of it,” she said at last.

Kurama blinked his eyes, long and slow, and there was something ancient and still in him, not even like an animal, but like a tree, a forest—infinite reserves of patience. He exhaled, and she could almost hear the rustling of thousands of leaves in answer. A rueful smile played across his mouth, when he met her eyes again.

“Thank you. I’ve had time now to get used to it, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Grief is a strange beast. It comes and goes as it pleases, and it is difficult to say what will bring it back. It made me reflective, not just of my current life, but my past one. Hiei got to hear most of it—he was with me for so much of the immediate aftermath.”

“Right.”  That timing neatly explained Hiei’s previous absence and his strange behavior afterwards. Trust Hiei to not reveal that he was helping his lover through grief, disguising it—as Kurama no doubt could also see—as something else.

“Hiei was the one to suggest retracing my steps to my first home. I had been meaning to do it for some time, but with my normal routine there never seemed to be a good time. It seemed like a good diversion. If there was a fight, all the better.”

“Oh, if it was a true fight you were looking for, you could have just asked me—Hiei could’ve told you that. I would love to fight you one day,” said Mukuro. “Not here,” she added as an afterthought. But in this lifetime. Hiei is diverting, but it could be worth it to test my skills on you.”

Kurama laughed. “No wonder you get along so well—you sound just like him. I’m envious; he won’t fight me. I suppose I’m not quite enough of a challenge for him, especially these days.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Mukuro. “I believe the challenge you present comes in other forms. You’re a fascinating creature, Kurama.”

Kurama’s mouth curved up in a gentle smile. “As are you, Mukuro.”

~

The remainder of Kurama’s time in Makai passed without further incident. Mukuro saw Kurama at odd intervals, and even sat and spoke with him at length without interruption. Twice, she sparred with both him and Hiei, both within the fortress and in the forest proper, where they could fight without fear of harm. It was practically domestic.

The morning that Kurama planned to depart for Ningenkai, he entered her receiving room with a gift. Despite her confidence in her own strength, and relative trust that her and Kurama had reached an understanding, she was still at first hesitant to accept the stubby little plant with dark green leaves, no matter how beautifully presented.

“It’s aloe,” said Kurama, amused by her reticence, and she definitely understood why Hiei found him so exasperating. “From the human world. It isn’t as self-sufficient as Hiei’s gift, but I wanted to find a way to convey my respects.”

“What does it feed on?”

“Just soil and sunlight. This variety should grow perfectly well with the Makai’s sun, so you should have plenty, if you choose to use it.”

“Use it for what?”

“To treat burns, mostly, but aloe can soothe old pains, if necessary.”

“That’s characteristically thoughtful. Thank you.”

“I thought you might like it. Given that roses are my signature weapon, I thought that a bouquet might be taken the wrong way.”

Mukuro laughed. Kurama’s visit hadn’t been entirely what she expected, but even if she didn’t know him (and who, really, could know this fox entirely), it was a good start.

“Thank you, Kurama,” she said. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” he echoed. He bowed, straightened, smiled, and left, leaving only the scent of roses behind him.

~

Two days after Kurama left, the scent of roses still lingered. It was strongest around the guest quarters, and the training chambers, but Mukuro still found traces of it in the library and even still in her own bedroom.

It clung especially close to Hiei, but Mukuro expected that.

“If Kurama planted anything without my permission, I’ll be very put out,” she informed him without looking up from her book. “I hope you made that clear to him.”

“He isn’t stupid enough to try something like that,” said Hiei, sounding amused. Mukuro did look up then; Hiei looked more relaxed than he had since before Kurama’s visit. “Though I see he managed to leave one behind.”

“It was a gift,” said Mukuro simply, glancing sidelong at the aloe plant in its cheery blue ceramic pot; it seemed content sitting by her bedside table, but she wasn’t used to plants enough to tell if that would keep. “I might need to ask him how I’m supposed to take care of it.”

“He didn’t have any instructions?”

“He did, but it’s not carnivorous, so I’m still concerned.”

“Hm.” Hiei pulled out his usual chair, propping his feet up on the table. “You’ll be fine. I can always go ask him if you need anything.”

“I’m not going to ask you to send you to Ningenkai for that. It’d be rude.”

“Since when do you care about rudeness?”

“He doesn’t work for me, and he was a gracious guest.”

Hiei grunted. “You’re both more alike than you have any right to be.”

“We’re just experienced.” Mukuro watched Hiei, a faint smile playing about her mouth. “It was good to see that we could be more than just civil to each other.”

“That’s an understatement. You were practically in cahoots,” grumbled Hiei, eyes snapping open and glaring at her.

Cahoots? “Is that another human expression?”

Hiei looked very much like he was ready to melt into the floor. Or incinerate something. If the unfortunate target was the aloe plant, she would not be pleased. He settled for groaning and crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Does it matter? I suppose it’s better than wondering if you were holding some secret centuries-old grudge.”

“Indeed. I quite enjoyed his company. I look forward to seeing more of him, whenever he is in Makai.”

Hiei watched her, and she let him into her mind to feel the truth of her regard. Her respect for Kurama, and the threadlike beginnings of something like affection. In turn, the wall that had been thrown up so abruptly was now gone from his mind. While there were still locked boxes in his mind, of others’ secrets and confidences that he would always keep, she could feel more of his emotions, the mingled concern and sympathy and relief over Kurama that he kept so guarded.

“Hn.” Hiei tipped his head back, closing his eyes, lips turned up in the faintest suggestion of a smile. “I’ll let him know.”

Mukuro settled back into her study, hiding her smile. She was pleased to have his company again, and she enjoyed how the scent of roses lingered with him.

~

End

 

Notes:

This was a hell of a fic to write. Mukuro fascinates me, and among the many reasons I wish the Three Kings Arc had the time to really be fleshed out, a major one is that I wanted to see more of her. I particularly wanted to see her and Kurama interact—as two snarky, ancient redheads who have remade themselves in different ways, with specific ties to Hiei and interesting stances on the upcoming conflict, I think that could have been really fun!

I can never decide how I think the relationship between her and Hiei works, though it is—even if it is romantic, it’s definitely not any standard definition of romance, but trying to couch it as specifically friendship or mother-son just doesn’t quite work for me either. I ship Kurama/Hiei, so I really wanted to see how she and Kurama would interact through that understanding, with their own different dynamics with Hiei, and what relationship dynamic between the three of them would form.

And I brought Shigure back, because a) Mukuro does have precedent for not letting her men die even after they very much should be dead and b) I like him, and that moment when he kneels before Mukuro before his fight with Kurama hit me somewhere in the lizard brain and made me sit up and pay attention. So he’s chilling here, alive and well.

Thank you for reading!