Someone was calling him but... He frowned slightly, unwilling to move, unwilling to open his eyes. He didn't care who it was. He didn't want to see, didn't want to hear or speak with them. He knew they were worried about him, that wherever he was, he wasn't supposed to be there, but... he didn't want to leave. It was so peaceful here, so calm, and he knew that if he moved, if he opened his eyes... only sadness and pain awaited him beyond. So he would stay where he was. He wouldn't respond to the voice. He would just ignore it and hope it went away...

His ears twitched to lay back tightly against his skull; it was familiar, that voice. In such an odd way. Not as if it was spoken by one being but many, that he either knew or had known. Perhaps all. They, these voices, this voice, repeated his name a third time and with it came a few, faint memories. Ones of darkness and warmth that lasted for nearly two full days - and then of only darkness and non-warmth, non-presence, when he was alone. He couldn't see, and he was frightened and he couldn't place one coherent thought with another yet. His young mind could only comprehend the Absence Of. He was missing something... missing the One... missing the warmth, the small, limited world he had known. He could sense the One moving in a place Beyond where he stood - somewhere that he could not reach - and cried out, his voice weak and fickle and tiny with newborn youth. The One stilled, making a thick, distasteful sound as it muttered the first words Shenjin had ever heard. He didn't know what they meant, couldn't understand them - hadn't, when he had lived those moments - yet here, in this dream world, the words came to him clearly in thought, and his tiny heart was devastated.

The One shifted and suddenly there was no more presence - gone was the feel of their essence, the touch of their scent, the weight of their warmth and presence. He cried out again - Please, don't leave me... Kaasan - Momma... please don't go... but the One never returned. He lay upon the cold stone floor, his downy soft kitsune fur not quite able to warm his shivering body. A few days passed and he began to ache, a cold, repetitious ache that began within his belly before slowly spreading out from there, eating him alive, slowly, gradually, taking over every inch of his tiny body until there was not a single lock of fur nor inch of flesh that lay immune to the pain. In one last effort given from the depths of his soul he shifted to that of his youko form - the natural form of his Creation - in preparation for death, the transition coming along so gradually that he was not aware of it beyond the agony of his flesh. His lips parted in the faint, whisper of a cry as he lay curled upon the ground, too hurt, too cold to move.

A second warmth, a cold warmth, a strange, fickle warmth and presence that was so familiar - and yet so disorienting that he could do nothing but lay there and struggle to breath. Golden... everything turned golden and laced in tiny threadings of silver as a large hand descended from Above to touch his tiny back, one finger caressing the junction of his shoulders and the nape of his neck, rubbing gently, easing all the pain just by that action alone. Words then, spoken in a soft tenor, a soft alto, husky and feminine yet deep and masculine within his tender ears.

The golden light suffused within him, feeding him, nourishing him, strengthening him. And then the presence was gone and a day passed in which he slept, recovering from his Almost-Death. When he once again became aware of his surroundings he became aware as well of the scent of blood and flesh... he weakly pushed himself to his hands and knees and then to his feet, for he was still clothed in his youko form. Barely two weeks old and he stumbled on two almost-human feet toward the scent of food - an act miraculous and impossible. He didn't know this. He didn't care. He knew only the scent of blood and food - and when at last he fell to his knees by the corpse his tiny, sharp little fangs buried themselves into its already dead and still slightly warm flesh. For the first time in his life, he ate solid food. For the first time in his life, he ate food - period.

He ate until his belly hurt and he could eat no more - then he licked up the blood spilling across the floor beneath his hands and lay within the gore next to the corpse, too weary and devoid of strength once more to move beyond. And thus he survived, for another week.

Others came once in a while, came and went, leaving the corpses behind them. He hid when they came, emerged when they left. For a year he fed from the bodies left behind before they had grown fully cold, his short hair and tail tangled and matted, his body coated in blood and bits of flesh and mud and droppings, his eyes open but blind, a thin silver sheen covering them and blocking all but darkness to his view. And then came the day that one of the Others that came was achingly Familiar and the scent of the One washed over his tender sense of smell. He did not emerge until the One had left, and then slowly made his way to the corpse left behind. He growled thickly in the back of his chest, for the first time knowing the feel of anger at the One - at forces he could not control. His small hands lifted the corpse left behind as his lips parted in a snarl, sharp, tiny little fangs burying themselves deep within the corpse's throat.

And the corpse let out a tiny, whimpering yip.

Not a corpse then. A creature in life. Alive. Breathing.

He dropped the corpse - the Life - stumbling back and falling on his tail as the Life made a tiny, breathy sound similar to that of a groan. Not dead yet, but almost there. He growled thickly, his hackles rising. He was hungry! How dare it still be alive!

Irritably he kicked another corpse nearby and stalked away to sulk in a corner, one clawed hand tugging at his long hair as he gnawed upon his lower lip. He would wait until it died. He had never eaten anything alive before - so he would wait until it died.

For three days he waited. He paced in his corner, stalked over to the Life, poked at it, then stalked back to his corner if it so much as made the whispery gurgle that passed for a breath. He approached it and paced around it, his blind eyes trained upon where he could sense it lay, glaring for all he could glare. Why didn't it just die? Worthless.

One the third day he could sense one of the Others approaching and began to snarl, burying his claws in the Life before him, ignoring the gurgle of a whimper as he did so. This corpse was his! He would not allow one of the Others to take it!

He hauled back, stumbled, fell, but managed to tug the Life a few inches to his corner. He stood, hauled back, stumbled, fell - another few inches. Again and again, over and over until he reached his corner. There he stumbled and fell one last time before wrapping his arms around the Life and dragging it into his lap. There he hunched over it, his tiny fangs bared, his blind eyes narrowed in a ferocious, strangely piercing silver glare, a thick, rumbling growl curling in upon itself within his chest. The Others had always known that he was there and sometimes approached him, tugging on his ears and lifting him by his tail but now - as he held the Life within his pathetically thin arms, bristling - they dared not come even so near as that. There was something about those silver-sheened eyes that warned them away, that whispered of Death by their Createress Himself should they even think of harming the youko foxlet. He had always been protected somehow - those Others which had had the misfortune of needing to return to this particular place in which he had resided silently wondered over how he could possibly still be alive, and in his youko form no less for one so young. And although they tugged at his ears and lifted him by his tail, they did no more. Now, they dared do nothing so foolish for as he crouched there hunched in the darkness of his corner, a pale, ethereal sort of golden glow was alighted around him and the figure he clutched possessively to his chest. The Others stayed far from his corner and kept a wary eye upon him as they did their business and moved on, leaving fresh corpses behind them.

Once the most recent Others had gone he dropped the Life unceremoniously to the ground and ran to one of the freshest of three corpses, sinking both fangs and claws into tender, softened flesh. No sound accompanied this movement; it truly was dead. He ate until he was sated and then until he was full and could eat no more - and then he ate more just because it was there, and sometimes food did not come for weeks at a time. He fell upon his tail and dragged a scraggly arm across his blood-coated lips, smearing it along his flesh over a years' worth of mud and gore in the process. His ear flickered over to register the now almost-in-death gurgle of the Life in begrudging anger. Why wouldn't it just give up and die already? Worthless.

He pushed himself to his feet and wavered over to the Life, glaring down sightlessly at it. He wanted to hit it and tell it to stop making so much noise, although it hardly made such in its near-death state. It smelled a little like the One and he hated that - hated it with all his being - and wanted to shred it to pieces because it was a part of the One - a part of his the One - and it wasn't supposed to be alive! He reached down with the intent of ripping its tiny foxlet head off, but instead hauled it across the floor by its tiny tail back to the fresh corpse he had finished with. He shoved the Life's head into the mutilated belly of the corpse and waited. A tiny frown puckered upon his features as it simply lay there, faintly breathing. He hit it and smeared its muzzle in the corpse again; not even a whimper came this time, although the Life's tiny jaw opened, revealing an equally small tongue that fell out to weakly, tremulously lap at a droplet of blood. Nothing more.

He grabbed it by its scruff and dragged it out of the corpse's gore, then plopped down to sit next to it. He glared at it. He snarled at it. It lay there, unmoving, simply breathing. And then he turned back to the corpse and licked up some of its blood before forcing himself to eat until he vomited upon the ground. He sank his claw into the Life's flesh and dragged it closer, then forcefully shoved some of the half-digested food down its throat. Upon instinct the Life swallowed what it could. After a good while of having and bearing such treatment, the Life began to choke upon the vomit, blood beginning to trickle from the corner of its mouth. He growled irritably, then lay at its back, wrapping an arm around the tiny bundle of bones and fur, his tail lying over it protectively.

And thus, he slept.

Over the next few weeks he continued his gruff ministrations upon the Life until it began to move upon its own, without his help. It made tiny sounds of pleading when it was hungry and whimpered when it was frightened and always stayed by his side. It never once left him, and although in the beginning the sounds and its very presence angered him and he hit it quite often, gradually he got used to it and almost took pride in the knowledge that it depended on him. If he so wished for it to do so, the Life would die. He could just stop feeding it, and it would die.

He did not, however, stop feeding it.

Another year came and went and the Life grew, yet always seemed weak, more delicate than he, and smaller. It was different than he although his couldn't place in which way; he shrugged those thoughts away as useless and continued on. He had taken to exploring his surroundings now, and made sure the Life remained in his corner when he did so. It had tried to follow him a few times; he had snarled and slapped it and firmly made it known that it wasn't welcome, and so it fell back to huddle in a small, fleshless pile of fur by the wall until he returned. When he did, it unfurled itself and bounded out to meet him, practically wriggling in excitement as it leapt into his arms and bowled him over. He didn't so much mind this, or the cat-like tongue that flickered out to shower his cheeks in foxy kisses. So he put up with it, and sometimes went out to explore just so he could come back to such a welcome.

The day came when he discovered that his world was a cave, and there was Light beyond. He wandered out into the Light and for the first time discovered what Day and Sunlight was. With the light came warmth - not the same warmth as that which the One had held, but a different warmth, soothing all the same for what it was worth. The next day he returned to the Light Beyond, in the place Outside, and took the Life with him. Every day for two weeks he took the Life out to the Beyond, and each day something in his sight changed. He couldn't tell what it was at first, for he had never experienced it, but he was slowly gaining his ability to see. Whatever had caused his blindness was slowly burning away at the touch of the Sun; borne and forced to live a life of shadows within shadows within darkness, his body slowly blossomed to the first gentle touch of True Light and healed itself. Within a month he opened his eyes, and was able to see his surroundings.

They terrified him and he screamed, which caused the Life to whimper in terror and scramble to crawl in his lap. Too frightened to move, his silver eyes lay wide enough to encompass the whole of his world - and the horrors there-of. Bodies, mutilated and ripped and torn, some fresh, others globs of rotting, decayed flesh, others now only bones, lay in the cave surrounding him - all much, much smaller than him. All of them, kitsune.

Youko foxlets. Abandoned. Left to die by Youko Dames who didn't want them. Eaten and consumed in death... by him.

He became sick. Violently sick, although he wasn't sure exactly why. The bodies - the fresh ones, at least - resembled the Life which he had so diligently taken care of - and he was sick again. And again. And yet again.

The cloying scent of Death was wrapped around him - only now, as he could see it, was he able to pinpoint it. He stumbled to his feet and ran away. Out of the cave, into the Light. Farther and farther, until he tripped and fell into a shallow river. He thrashed in the water wildly, dragging himself back to the shore where he collapsed strengthlessly, retching again. The Life came and lay by his side, snuggling against him, whimpering in fear. Shaking he wrapped one arm around it and drew it closer, burying his face in its fur and crying. For the first time in his life, he wept.

He never returned to that place again. The Life wanted to sometimes, for it was all that it - that she, for indeed the Life was a she - had known. But he never allowed her to. Perhaps it was because she sensed his fear. Perhaps it was because he was the only live creature she had known on a regular basis. Perhaps it was because he was incredibly nice to her now, once he had seen what fed and nourished them, once he had his sight returned to him. Whatever it was, though, she never left him, and never returned. She stayed by his side, a tiny fluff of silver-violet foxlet that had entirely too much energy for his likes. She had the most annoying way of making him smile. She bounded here and there and leapt in circles around him, yipping until he growled a warning to her. As if she interpreted this as an invitation, she tackled him, some five measly pounds of kitsune, yet succeeding all the same in barreling his taller, youko form to the ground. He didn't hit her anymore, but when she tackled him he tackled right back, and they wrestled upon the dirt and in the grass - he being so much more careful for she was so dreadfully small and delicate and weak that he feared he would break her. He didn't want her to break her because then she would be dead. He didn't want her to be dead, like those corpses in the cave. He didn't want her to die.

She was of the One and he was of the One and eventually as he grew older it came to his realization that being both of the One they were of the Same and thus were brother and sister. This made his vow to protect her all the more valuable because she was not just any Living Corpse now - she was his Living Corpse, beyond all doubt. His little sister.

Another few years passed and he grew better at Hunting for food and taking care of himself. He took a bath twice a day - sometimes more, if he had trouble with memories of the cave and its contents - and washed the little kitsune pup as well. She always squirmed, but when he got to the point of scratching behind her ears she practically melted and let him rinse her off so she was as clean as he. They began to venture into the towns that they had only skirted before, she hanging close by his side, whimpering once in a while in fear. He set a hand upon her head to calm her, and - his curiosity taken over - walked on. It was listening to the conversation of the demons within the towns that he learned what speech was and began to practice at such things. It was in walking through the towns that he learned of the knowledge that every creature had a name - every single one excepting him and the kitsune by his side. But he didn't try to find a name for them; not yet, at least.

Not until the day the Living Corpse stood on two feet.

She didn't want to take a bath; he growled and tried to force her. She yipped and scrabbled to get out of his arms; he plucked her from her feet and tossed her into the calm river. He knew from experience that she could swim, and quite well at that, so he expected to see a tiny triangular head pop above the surface and begin wading back toward him. What he truly saw scared him so bad he screamed and fell upon his tail, his silver eyes widening in mingled fear and astonishment. The kitsune didn't come up... but a youko girl did. Long, feathery locks of ice-violet hair lay in a netting of beauty across her thin, angled shoulders, framing a pitifully young and charmingly innocent face - and two enigmatic eyes, one the sheer silver of his own gaze, the other a more expressive amber-golden tone. She yipped a barking laugh and dashed out of the water to leap upon him, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling his throat. He tried to push her away but she fell upon him fully, shoving him to the ground; they began to wrestle and by the time one had overcome the other - for he was still loathe to harm her - he had come to turns with the fact that she was still the kitsune he had known. She now looked more like him than ever; a closer exact in replica none could be found. Her two tufted ears were alike his, her long, flowing mane, her velvet-soft mass of youko tail. The only difference was in the fact that where hers were a pale, pale, ice-violet, his were an equally pale shade of pearl-green.

He named her Leina, which was a name that came to him in a dream, spoken in the language of the gods by a Golden presence with cool warmth in its hands and comforting feel to its essence. His own name came with it; hers meant "innocent blessing" - his, "little aching silence."

Once she had turned youko, he began teaching her how to speak, which she did not do often for she still communicated her needs best in whimpers and yips and other foxlet sounds. She did, however, learn to speak, and his own speech improved upon teaching her. Although her name - "innocent blessing" gradually began to fit her, his own had a long way to come before he would grow into it.

And thus, they survived the youngest years of their life.

He felt a rush of anger and fear at the sound of that name - at the sound of the Voice and Voices forming that word. His memories of that year came, unbidden, and with it came a presence not within the memories but within the dreamscape of which he slept. The silver youko was there, by his side, yet he could do nothing. The anger he felt filtered and drifted away leaving him cold and alone and unsure of what to do, and so he turned his gaze to the memories glowing before him, as the presence by his side did as well.

A few, flashing memories of the times with Leina, of leaping through meadows and seeing the delight upon her pretty face when he had managed to steal something for her. It was almost always food he stole in which to keep them alive for they had no need of material items; the clothes they wore were those that others left behind and so the only want was for food. With this in mind he always managed to steal a candied sweet or two for Leina, or sometimes - when it came about the time of year when the air grows cold and this second sense told him that they had both been born in a time similar - he pilfered a small sugar-meat cake for her. He took care of her when she got sick, which was rare but happened at least once every year, and protected her when they entered the towns. He fought with the vengeance of the half-rabid foxlet he was, and many who had entertained thoughts of kidnapping either one or both of them quickly left in search of better prey.

He would not lose that feral half to his soul until he met the Another who smelled a little like the One - just as Leina did, and just as he did.

Leina had played with him and laughed with him that day and it had been a good day above else, when she had come to him and parted her lips in the type of speech that she used to rarely.

Oniisan... I can feel him. Her voice breathy, faint in her excitement, her tiny hands wrapping around his neck, as she leaned against him to nuzzle his throat. He looked down at her in confusion, frowning a little at her words. Found who? It's our 'niichan; he is close!... Come - she tugged at his arm, pulling him back across the field to the town they had just left not but the morning before. Let's find him!

Confusion eventually turned into understanding, and then excitement as she told him things she should never have known - how he was the greatest of thieves and the most beautiful youko in the world. How he was strong and fast and powerful and how he would one day learn what true love was and how they must both be patient with him until he learned. They would help him, she said - they would help their brother not be so frightened of love. Within the half-day that they spent walking back to the town she had spoken more than she ever had in her life, telling him of how she had watched their brother dream since she was too young to know - just as she had watched his own dreams - never stepping in to change them, only there to watch and behold. She filled his ears with a thousand details of the brother they were to meet but never had known, filling his heart likewise with eagerness to meet this other half of themselves, this strong, fearless brother who would take care of them as the One had not, who would make sure that they were well and had food and were not frightened of shadows as they were now.

Kurama watched silently, half-living the memories as if he, too were Shenjin, a faint ache in his heart steadily growing with every softly spoken word that passed Leina's lips, with every feeling of eager excitement that coursed through the tiny pearl-green body walking next to her. So much innocence between the two, so much beauty and so much pain, so much hope that he would be the savior they had never had and would care for them as they had always yearned for... he had never known. He wanted to approach the two foxlets, the boy barely past his seventh year, the girl barely beyond her sixth, and he wanted to hug them each and tell them that he was sorry, that he hadn't known. He was so sorry...

And then - everything changed. The perspective of his watching changed, tossed back and forth between the little pearl-green foxlet and the Another. One moment he stood looking up upon a group of ragged thieves, one the most beautiful, most graceful in all the land - a silver youko that radiated confidence and power. The next he simply was that silver youko, smirking as he looked down in disdain upon the two children come before him. And then he was the pearl-green foxlet again as he was hit, a blow hard enough to throw him skidding to the ground. It hurt, his arm hurt, but that pain was nothing compared to devastation that blossomed in his heart and brought tears to his eyes. Rejected, again. Worthless.

Leina's voice cried out as she ran to him, falling to her knees by his side, her tiny hands trying to staunch the steady flow of blood that came from his arm. He didn't want her to see him cry - she was crying already, crystalline tears trailing down her cheeks - but he did not want her to see his weakness. He did not want him - the Another - his brother - to see his weakness. So he bit his lower lip and swallowed the lumping tears in his throat and pushed himself to his feet. The silver thief laughed at his audacity and the look of feral anger intermixed with fear and gut-wrenching sadness within those silver eyes. He laughed at the foxlet's wavering bravado and weakened strength. And then he spoke.

And then a shadow came, a figure just a hairs length shorter than the silver youko and as dark as he was light. Pale flesh, black clothing, long black hair drawn back, small leathery wings, dark, piercing blue eyes the color of midnight storms... and he looked from the silver youko to the foxlet children and then back, a certain shade of angered reproach settled upon the beautiful thief. A few words spoken, soft and level, velvet alto tones that soothed the foxlet's fear even as the silver youko took on a glare of defiance. The other thieves began to remark - yet one calm, withering blue look from the dark creature silenced them instantly. He moved, this Second Another, to the foxlet's side. He helped the girl to stand once more and kneeled by their sides, checking the boy's wound. It was deep but not fatal; the boy would care for it as he had for others and he would survive. The Second Another murmured some encouraging words and took a black pouch from his waistband - one which held all the coins of which he had so recently stolen from another - and pushed it into the boy's palm. Soft, quiet words then, words that upon any other lips would have - could have been - a threat, but upon being spoken by the Second Another were only words of reassurance. An urge to live on, despite those who caused them harm.

The foxlet took the pouch and his sister by the hand. He sent a cold silver glare to the indignant youko thief who was currently - and very pointedly - ignoring the interchange between his lover and the scamps who had dared to try and call him their kin. It didn't faze the silver youko at all - but it was the first time the foxlet ever honestly and truly felt a Living Hate for another. The silver youko had made Leina cry; he would never be forgiven.

And then he spoke, and he said the thoughts that were within his mind.

The youko thief laughed; the chimera kneeling before him looked dismayed, and then angry at the thief's laughter. He sent a sharp word to the silver beauty, silencing him instantly, before petting the pearl-green foxlet's mane. The foxlet jerked away from the touch and snarled; he took Leina's hand within his own and started to take her out of the town. She kept looking back at the silver youko, the tears slowly, silently moving down her cheeks.

Kurama watched, the aching pain in his chest growing with every step the two took. He should have listened to Kuronue that day. He should have listened to the boy and his sister but he hadn't - he had been young and naïve and high upon his own accomplishments to have even wondered at the truth of the scamp's words. He, too, had been abandoned as a pup - although the One had not managed to reach the birthing cave by the time he came. He had been left at the side of the road to be found by the Madam of a whorehouse - who took him in only with the thought that he would one day grow into the beauty he was, and such a youko charm would do wonders for the clientele. Foxlet pups were borne and left to die all the time. That was life.

That didn't mean he had a brother and a sister.

He remembered Kuronue's attitude that day - irritation and disgruntlement. It had taken him a lot of coaxing to get the Chimera to forgive him enough to allow him to bed him that night, and deep within the darkness Kuronue had spoken upon the thoughts within his mind; what if the foxlet had told the truth... Kurama had snarled a response and threatened him, telling him to drop the whole subject. The Chimera had grown silent, but never quite forgave the silver youko for his coldness toward the children; he had always had a kind heart beneath it all, Kuronue did.

The next day one of the thieves in the band that had gathered in that town asked Kurama - while Kuronue was away, of course - if he could have permission to track down the two foxlets and sell them into slavery. Kurama hadn't been listening. He had waved his hand and told the youkai to do whatever he wanted. It never quite sank in that the youkai was serious, and would hold him to his word.

He fought against the youkai - to protect Leina, for she was frightened and was crying again. He fought and bit and scratched as hard as he could and all he received was a clawing blow to his chest - a mark that dug three ragged lines across his chest and almost to his hip - a wound that would scar him for life. Life became a blur then, moving from one slave-owner to another, always with some sort of ward or constraints on, always with some sort of collar on. A few scenes flashed across his mind, one in particular.

There was a shackle around his throat - one of gold that complimented the long, pearl-green mane of his hair and tail - which connected him to a bar by a long, thin, silver chain. He was forced to work, toting heavy plates back and forth to the tables within his reach, and if any of the youkai wanted to have a bit of fun they tugged on the chain, causing him to either trip and drop his load or cry out. Both actions only warranted him a beating that made the demons laugh. Across the room, settled upon a stool with a similar gold shackle and silver chain that kept her tied to the platform on which she sat, Leina sang softly, smiling at her brother every once in a while in encouragement - either too simple or too naïve to understand that this was not the life of one who could smile with so much innocence.

At first he tried to smile back; he truly did. That only, however, managed to catch some of the demon's eye, and he had to fight back against wandering claws that tried to fondle him all night. So he stopped smiling. He hadn't laughed since he was very young and now, he had stopped smiling. There was no happiness in his life, no beauty excepting only that which sat upon the stage before him, singing to him - for it was obvious that she would sing for no other.

The business was as usual that night, broken only for a heart-beat by Shenjin's gaze flittering to the door upon the entrance of a small demon-child dressed in black with wild, spiky black hair marred only by a white-starburst upon the fore. It looked like a demon-child, yet held itself as if it knew what it was about. His interest wavered and he went about his business. Some time later one of the demons decided to toy with him and yanked at his chain a little too hard - causing him to not only choke and stumble, but fall upon one of the other customers. He fell into the demon's lap and froze as the cold glint of steel was pressed against his throat. His silver eyes grew wide as he gazed up fearfully into two hard, blood-red eyes. The demon-child snarled down at him a brief moment before throwing him to the floor; a flickering of black later and the youkai who had caused Shenjin to stumble was gutted, as were the three demons who laughed the hardest. The demon-child - no, assassin, for it was clear now; he was much older than he looked upon first impression, despite his delicate size - bared one snarling fang at the pearl-green youko still sprawled upon the floor as he sheathed not only his dagger but a large katana he had drawn. By the moment other youkai were gathering around the assassin as if to jump him; he look to them with malicious hatred that burned within crimson eyes, a black aura of fire alighting around him and flaming to life upon his arm. Shenjin scrambled behind the demon assassin to hide from the youkai - and then as the air flittered and the black assassin disappeared, he scrambled back to cower beneath the bar. It turned into a free-for-all then, that lasted almost all night. In the morning when he was given the chore of scraping up all the bodies, he absently noticed that the assassin was not among the dead.

More memories, coming and going, ones not quite so harsh as those from his younger life. Memories of coming into the hands of the Master - of both Masters. Of the whole time in which he had been a slave, working at the bar and being in the care of the Master were the most easy to live with - meaning that he was beaten regularly, although not so harshly nor with such frequency as with any other owners.

He approached the most recent of his memories - seeing Kurama once again, feeling that hate he had harbored within his breast grow strong and rage within his eyes - seeing the half-breed - the dark assassin - once again, although in truth he had not connected the two before now. Meeting Kaidei...

Kurama reached out to the boy as the memories faded, as the dreamscape lurched. Shenjin's awareness whirled to face him as though it had forgotten his being there. Terror, anger, confusion, took precedence of all - and then he screamed, a terrified, angry, confused shout.

Kurama stared, unable to move to him as Shenjin retreated from his awareness, pulling away. He disappeared and yet he was still there, and faintly - quietly - there was heard the sounds of crying. He tried to find the source, wading his way through the confusing images of the dreamscape, some reminiscent of memories, some simply just dreams themselves. He was bombarded by images of pain and fear, by sights and sounds of the sister that linked them both, by feelings of remorse and hopelessness. All of them, about Shenjin - from Shenjin - simply of Shenjin.

He followed the sounds of weeping, his own form - his Youko form - shifting and melting away as he approached a huge hole in the ground. He was human as he kneeled by its edge, human as he braced his hands upon the lip and looked down within its depths. Long, feathery red locks of hair teased and framed large, emerald eyes full of compassion and apology as he looked down upon the sight of a tiny pearl-green foxlet, whimpering and crying in a single corner of the well. "Shenjin..." he whispered gently, holding out his hand to the pup. "Shenjin..."

The foxlet tried to hide, whimpering again as he lifted two scrawny arms to cross over his head. "Go 'way! You're nothing but a ph-phantom! Go 'way!" His tiny shoulders trembled and shook with the force of his cries and he sniffled and wept. "I don't know who you are..."

Kurama leaned back, the compassion he had learned in the few years he had passed as a human causing his heart to constrict in pain. "Shenjin... look at me." The foxlet shook his head violently, yet two large, trembling silver eyes appeared amidst the ragged pearl-green main none-the-less. Kurama touched his chest gently. "This is who I am."

They were his memories then; the memories of a silver youko flashing by much faster than they had when they had been Shenjin's. Only a few scenes slowed - his first theft - the day he met Kuronue - the day Kuronue died - the day the Hunter shot him - the moment he died. Being borne to a ningen - being saved by that same ningen's kindness - growing up for the first time knowing what it was like to have a mother - learning the ways of a human and in doing so learning what it was to be kind. Meeting Yuusuke and Kuwabara - meeting Hiei, and learning what it was to have a friend as important to his ningen-youko soul as Kuronue had been. Fighting with Hiei, protecting Hiei, taking care of him and bandaging his wounds - learning what it was to truly love another, beyond all boundaries and constraints...

He gave all of this to Shenjin freely, including those memories of hating the boy, of being disgruntled and angry, of not ever wanting to find out exactly why he felt that way, of not wanting to remember the first time they had met, and what he had done. All his memories and all of his mistakes, he gave to his brother.

"This is who I am." He whispered, leaning over the edge of the well and offering his hand once more. "Please..."

The foxlet turned away, yet his tiny pearl-green ears swiveled and lay at a sad, yearning half-back. Slowly he used the wall of the pit to guide himself to his feet; sheer silver eyes turned to match emerald green as he took one step forward, reached out his hand, and took that of the ningen before him. That tiny place within Shenjin that had cracked twice before constricted... - and shattered, tiny, starlight pieces of crystalline life falling to the dreamscape around them like a thousand broken tears from a thousand fearful hearts.

And the Nothing came and took them both.

He was standing upon his knees in a place of borealis light, his shoulders set back, his head bowed. Where was he? He didn't know. But there was no fear. Was there supposed to be fear? He wasn't sure any more. He couldn't remember. He looked up and a figure was coming toward him, a dark figure carrying something.

He could see it clearly now, this figure, as it came before him and stopped a half-leap away. It was a Chimera, with long black hair and a black vest with a yellow-orange tuft of fur at the shoulder. Small, leather wings at his back, black-gloved hands, gentle, crimson-violet eyes that softened as they looked upon him; a smile that was so very benevolent... He knew this figure. He knew who it was...

Kaidei...

In his hands the thief carried a sword. Not just any sword; but The Sword. And it was magnificent. A silver blade that could cut through anything - from iron to stone to flesh to bone to the very soul - a hand-guard that was black and yet such a dark garnet shade as to appear black, marked only by a single jade stone at the cross. A hilt that was wrapped in old, fraying black leather strips held firm by blood-red leather straps. Kaidei smiled upon Shenjin and took the sword, holding it in both of his small hands before his chest. Without so much as an effort to be seen he shoved the blade of the sword into the ground that was not a ground, sending a pulse of borealis light into the non-world around them.

And then, he spoke.

"At this moment, in this place, I give to you... my courage."

He was human and he was kneeling, and watching in silence as a figure came from out of the light and stood before him. He knew that figure... those dark, piercing red eyes. He loved that figure with all his human heart, with all his youko soul.

Hiei...

The fire demon smirked and took the sword in his hands - not just any sword - not his usual katana - but The Sword - and drove it into the ground. And then, he spoke.

"At this moment, in this place, I give to you... my strength."

And then there was another figure, at his side, whispering... "My kindness."... Yukina... he would wish to look upon her, yet his eyes were riveted upon the hilt of the sword, where a cold jade stone lay glowing with dark light. Another voice joined the first and then another, voices of people and creatures he had known at some time within his long life, each offering one piece of themselves to him, each giving him one more.

On and on they went, one after the other until he could no longer keep up with who spoke each confession, with who gave him what, with who initiated and awoke that part of his life and his soul.

"I give to you my innocence..."

That was Leina, he sensed more than knew as each new voice blurred with the next. Her gift stood out among the others, and as if it signaled the coming end of all that which simply Was, only a few voices followed hers, until they each and all fell to silence.

And then the thief was there again, standing on the other side of the sword, his smile so very gentle as his gaze softened. Slowly he moved, his figure almost insubstantial in the dreamscape as he walked past the sword and drew closer. He cupped Shenjin's face in his hands, his thumbs lightly caressing the line of his jaw as he tilted the pearl-green youko's gaze up to meet his own.

"At this moment, in this place... I give you my devotion, Shenjin. I give you all that I am - my flesh, my heart, my soul, my very life. I give you my love, forever."

And then his eyes fell closed as the thief leaned down; soft lips pressed against his temple, a gentle, teasing breath moved down along his cheek. The thief kissed his jaw and then moved to his lips, one small thumb moving to caress the full of the lower only moments before that warm mouth gently descended upon his own.

He held his breath as the fire demon came closer, as he took the silver youko's face within his hands and lifted to cause green eyes to meet blood-flecked red. Hiei's last confession, spoken so quietly as to barely be heard, his lips teasing Kurama's with each word.

"At this moment, in this place... I give you my devotion, Kurama. I give you all that I am - my flesh, my heart, my soul, my very life. I give you my love, forever." He smirked as Kurama leaned forward, his lips parting in invitation. "But only..." He whispered. "If you can catch me..." And then he kissed the youko - the ningen - the thief who had stolen his heart long ago. It was to be a soft, gentle kiss, this first, despite the fact that it was initiated amongst a vision within a dreamscape. It was to be chaste and tame. It was to be... all that it was not.

The patience of a true fire demon is weak enough as it is - and one with the cold, calculating blood of a Koorime... well, that last strikes out what little there lies left. And so when Kurama's arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer, when a soft, aching moan left the youko's form, Hiei gave an answering growl in return, burying his hands in the ningen's red hair. The kiss deepened and turned passionate within seconds as they tasted one another in a way neither had dared before, each fighting for dominance, each relishing in the feel of being taken.

Hiei bit Kurama's lip and pulled away, smirking a little as he had trouble doing so, for the youko's arms were like a vise around him, preventing him from moving far. "Baka kitsune..." He whispered, kissing the tip of Kurama's nose, causing him to open his eyes and meet his gaze. Hiei glanced over his shoulder, at the borealis world of light, which was slowly beginning to change around them. "It's time."

Kurama licked his lips, closed his eyes, and nodded. It was time.

Kaidei kneeled by Shenjin's side, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder and move his body to lie on his back. He reached out with his ki as he did so to disperse the crackling slices of shadow still shivering across the boy's flesh - and thus Kurama and Hiei's as well - as he did so. He looked over to where the tall silver youko lay sprawled along the floor, as graceful as any Renaissance vision of convoluted masculine-feminine sensuality with his long, silken hair pooling around him, his tail draping seductively across his thighs. Even as the thief beheld him, that pale beauty began to change, becoming smaller, more delicate and less powerful, silver mane streaking through with russet and orange and finally red. Sheer white robes disappeared, to be replaced by normal, human clothes as the change drew to a near and ended; the youko had thus one more returned to its ningen birth.

He was lying as silent as any, half-upon his side, his right arm wrapped around Hiei and holding the fire-demon close, his left arm outstretched and holding Shenjin's hand, clinging to both even in his vision dreams as if he feared losing them. A few emotions skittered fleetingly across his features as he dreamed what Shenjin dreamed - as he saw what was within Shenjin heart and mind and past. One particularly harsh memory must have come to him then for he grimaced yet appeared close to tears; instinctively Hiei let free a low, grumbling growl and shifted closer, burying his face in Kurama's shoulder, his own arm tightening where it lay around the youko-ningen's waist. Kaidei smiled wistfully at the sight; one day, they'd make a perfect couple.

Gently he turned back to Shenjin, bringing him closer to cradle the boy in his lap. He gave another small, tender smile as he allowed himself the comfort of brushing a few stray locks of hair from Shenjin's sleeping face. The pearl-green youko shifted and made a soft, yearning sound in the back of his throat, turning alternately toward the warmth of Kaidei's hand and chest. Carefully Kaidei settled his weight before bowing his head, closing his eyes, and focusing upon Shenjin's mind, reaching out with tendrils of his ki to slowly unravel the web of shielding hiding the pearl-green youko from the world. In doing so he was integrated into the dreamscape. Although the vision sucked him and his essence into the dreams, most of his focus was set upon undoing the shield, and so he didn't notice what the inter-mixing of Shenjin's mind, the Sword's Power, and his own ki had come together to create until he was completely finished with his task. Once the shield had been lowered, he 'turned' - figuratively speaking, of course, since what it really involved was him adjusting his attention from one medium of non-reality to another - only to find himself standing before the Sword itself, speaking words he had no intention of saying. Of course, it wasn't so much him speaking as the Sword speaking through him; ironic, how it specifically chose him for the task of reaching out to Shenjin in order to get its point across in the manner of which it was.

With a mental shrug, Kaidei went along with the Sword's urging this one time - it was harmless now, within the dreamscape - and spoke the words it sent to his lips. It was those very same words, however, that gave him pause. The Sword was now moving on, taking figures from Shenjin's memories and incorporating words to fit them in accordance with his own - working to heal that part of Shenjin's soul which had shattered completely upon Kurama's acceptance and offering. It was Healing him - completing what Kaidei himself had begun with the lengthening of Shenjin's tail. Although why it would... the thief sent his awareness out in a wider spanse and was rewarded with a glimpse - brief and fleeting - of Kurama kneeling before Hiei, accepting from the fire-demon the same Healing as which Shenjin was undergoing from Kaidei - each through the other, from the Sword. His focus came back in correction of itself and he stood before Shenjin again. Urging to do so by the Sword - and by his own personal wish to do so - he stepped beyond the Sword and walked over to the pearl-green youko. His voice was his own, the Sword only an echo beyond the shadow of his being as he touched the boy and spoke, as he...

He didn't want to leave the dreamscape. Not with such a promise still tingling upon his lips. There was no time, however, to bask in What is Wished to Be. Already, the borealis world around them was shivering with the Sword's own feelings - was it true that such a thing could in actuality hold feelings? - of eagerness to complete what it had begun. And so it was with a hesitant but peaceful heart that Kaidei smiled and released Shenjin, saddened by the knowledge that if the boy even remembered this vision, and even if he did wish to act upon it, he would have no chance to. Kaidei would be forced to leave by then, and there was little chance...

He shook his head, dispersing those thoughts. His time with them was waning, but Shenjin's was just beginning, and he must be careful not to do anything which would jeopardize such a thing. Kurama would not know how to handle Shenjin at first, and similarly Shenjin would be at a loss for how to deal with the kindness the more mature side of Kurama's nature that had a habit of revealing itself when he stood in his human form. But they'd figure it out, eventually. Unfortunately, Kaidei would not have the privilege of watching such changes unfold between his youko and the fire-demon's silver. Not if he wanted either to live very long.

As if sensing Kaidei's thoughts upon him, Kurama stirred then, sighing contentedly now that the harsh memories had faded to blissful nothingness. His arm shifted around Hiei and brought the diminutive fire-demon closer; in a response much like the one before, Hiei muttered something and nuzzled the youko's chest, more relaxed, more trusting in that grip than he would ever be in any other. Lethargically awareness came back to each of them in turn, beginning first with Hiei, who found himself curled up against a currently very human Kurama, one arm wrapped around the ningen's waist - the other hand clenched tightly around one of his long red side-locks. Kurama was just as belatedly pleased to find himself lying there as well, one arm around Hiei, the other outstretched, holding Shenjin's hand where the boy was sprawled out beyond them. He blinked, gathering his wits slowly before offering Hiei a gentle, loving smile, his hand lifting to touch his cheek in a fond caress. Something flared within Hiei's eyes for one all-too brief moment - something that made Kurama's heart flutter at just the bare, naked sight of -... and then he simply disappeared, and Kurama was left to lay alone upon the cold, stone floor, the heated warmth of his fire-demon slowly fading away. The faint smile upon his lips teased within his emerald eyes before he glanced up, his gaze settling upon the thief where he kneeled, Shenjin held carefully within his grasp. Instantly filled with apprehension, Kurama pushed himself up to sit and moved closer.

"Is he -"

"He's fine." Kaidei murmured, keeping his dark eyes trained upon the boy's sleeping features as he pet the soft, ragged hair. Without looking to Kurama as the youko-ningen came closer, he leaned over to awaken the kitsune in his arms. "Oi... Shenjin..."

Shenjin responded, groaning a little, his silver eyes blinking opening and narrowing as he gave forth a thick sound of pain. The light was too bright... instantly he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to lay his arm over his face to dampen the glow seeping through to his very brain. Kaidei looked at him oddly, then glanced up; the Sword's power was still in its bubble around them, although it was more condensed now, and visible. The borealis light of the dream-world Shenjin had just left was almost solid in its presence, creating that field approximately nine-feet in diameter, with the Sword as its pulsing center. Kaidei obliged the young youko, and within seconds the glow of the Sword's power dimmed. Kurama appeared surprised at this; Kaidei said nothing in reference to the human's sound of surprise, turning back to Shenjin and running a hand down the boy's side in a subtle caress - that was cleverly hidden as if he were searching for wounds. Shenjin groaned and wriggled at the touch, reluctantly pulling his hand away from his face with a grimace. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and ragged, and sounded terribly weak, even to his own ears. "I feel like I just lived a nightmare."

Kaidei gave a soft, muted laugh as he wrapped an arm around the youko's shoulders and helped him to sit up. "Jin-chan... your life is a nightmare."

Shenjin bared his fangs. "I know."

Kurama touched his shoulder hesitantly, drawing the boy's silver gaze to his own. He looked different in his human form; the timid remorse he felt within his heart was read all too easily within his large, now emerald eyes. "Shenjin... for however much it's worth at the moment... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I didn't mean for..."

"Are you asking to be forgiven?"

"Yes."

"No." Shenjin reached up slowly to place his hand upon Kurama's throat as if he were going to strangle the ningen - although in truth just the action of lifting his hand betrayed how weak he was. "I'm still going to kill you." He murmured, "Just..." His hand slid back as he wrapped his arm around Kurama's neck, accepting both his help as well as Kaidei's to stand. "Not right now."

Kurama laughed sadly, shifting to accommodate the boy's weight. "Arigato... I think."

"Oi! Kurama, are you okay?!" Yuusuke and Kuwabara - belatedly - arrived, skidding to a halt just inside the chamber. They both looked ruffled and battered, Kuwabara holding a bleeding wound in his side, Yuusuke showing signs of favoring his left leg.

"Hai." He nodded, appearing a bit confused as he glanced around. "But where's the Mage?"

"He's gone." Kaidei murmured, his unusually dark, magenta eyes set upon the sword hovering in the air only a leap before them. He ignored the looks of confusion they gave him; his mind was troubled to realize that the borealis shimmer of the sword had changed. It was the same as before, yet dimmer somehow, trembling with what could only be described as withheld excitement. The air practically hummed around them with the Out World Power - a trill of excitement, utter dismay, chagrined hope, and fear made its way across the thief's shoulders, causing his wings to rustle uneasily at his back. The Sword was extremely receptive, and that only meant one thing...

After all these years, it had finally chosen that which would be its Wielder.

Every eye was drawn to the Sword then, as his expression was so intent and so focused; all stilled at the shear Power and shear Beauty it represented. Above and beyond the handle, still with her tiny hands outstretched as if to take it in her grip, Leina hovered in the angelic grace of one with such tender innocence as to be beyond life itself; the glow of the Sword accepted her as it accepted Kaidei - as if she was its own. That meant only one thing; neither of them were to be the Wielder, which in turn meant it was one of the others in the immediate presence.

The Sword sent out its Power then - filling each with the irresistible desire to Touch it. All thought of the danger such an action represented fled each of their minds - even those thoughts of caution Kaidei had so fearfully placed within Shenjin's.

Kurama was the first to move, taking one short, starting step forward. His emerald eyes look entranced, fascinated, but confused as he stared upon the Sword, glancing back just long enough to gouge Shenjin and Yuusuke's reaction. They, too, were staring at the Sword. Kaidei, still only partially supporting Shenjin's weight, watched the youko-ningen take another, less hesitant step forward.

He moved closer and closer, each pace stronger than the last. Once within the half-leap radius surrounding the Sword, its Power touched his ki and soul, warring with them both, morphing Kurama's form to its own preference, its own version of truth. Small, flickering silver ears unfurled in a mane of red hair that eventually faded and shaded into a luscious dawn shade and then to a pearling sheen of silver-white the last two inches of length. His clothes changed to some half-breed mixture of the human clothes he had on and the draperies he had worn a hundred years ago; a small, silken tail identical to that of his hair - begging in a flaming, fiery red at the small of his back to end in shear, sparkling silver at the tip - brushed against his thighs. And still he moved, one more pace, another - until he stood just before the Sword, his eyes shifting between golden and emerald, swirling between one shade and another as they settled upon their goal. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, he lifted his hand, and reached to take the Sword by its hilt.

No! Kaidei's hands tightened convulsively as his heart constricted. No! Not him! Please, let it not be...

Kurama hesitated again, his palm an inch away from the ragged leather coating of the hilt. "Yuusuke." He murmured calmly, his voice deep and yet light, peaceful and contained. He could move no farther than he had; the Sword had Denied him.

Relief rushed through Kaidei, yet it was fleeting and vague as Yuusuke came, obeying the Sword's second Calling. Again, the monotonous, uneasy pleading began in Kaidei's mind - a pleading that he should not have even had in the first place. Let it not be him... As the human walked closer, the sphere of the Sword accepting it with barely even a ripple of effort, Kaidei's thoughts screamed in panic. No! That turned to anger as he continued to approach, reaching up as Kurama had to take the Sword by its hilt. I will not! I refuse to! I shall not obey him! I will accept no other! None - unless they be -

"Shenjin."... It was Yuusuke's voice now; he, too, had stilled. He, too, had been Denied.

". . . no..." Kaidei whispered, his mind frantically searching for a way to protect the pearl-green youko, even as his hands willingly released the boy. He was too close to fight against Sword's possession now; it held him still by not only its will, but his own as well. He had no choice in who the Sword would choose as its Wielder, and so he was forced to set back and watch as...

Shenjin approached the Sword as slowly as had the others, yet there was no caution, no hesitance in his steps as there had been in the others. He among them knew the truth of what would happen should someone Touch the Sword when it did not Will it to be So - and he among them was the one who did not fear to approach it. His slim hand reached out to it -

No! Don't! Kaidei's mind sliced back from pleading fervently that Shenjin wasn't - wouldn't be - the Wielder - and pleading that he was - and would be. It made no sense, and yet it simply Was within his thoughts. Please! It can't be! Don't be! I will obey only -

There was a brief, warm blaze of borealis light, which expanded to fill the room and blinded everyone - causing each to turn their eyes away. All, that is, excepting only Kaidei, who stood in fright behind them all, and Shenjin, who stood upon the balls of his feet and stretched to reach that last inch, his slim palm wrapping around the hilt of the Sword. A shock went through him - a violent, pleasurable shock that hurt and felt wonderful - as the light leapt forward, wrapping around his form like the feathery wings of an angel. Kaidei jerked simultaneously, a tremendous, ignominious pain digging into his gut, searing across every muscle and nerve ending in his body, causing agony to shoot through every fiber of his being, every snaking tendril of his soul. Something was being ripped from him - from the depths of his ki, his Power, his very Self - and he fell to his knees, he dark magenta eyes squeezing shut, his fangs baring themselves against the pain. He clutched his belly and doubled over, unable to move, unable to breath, as a shock of borealis lightning snapped free from Shenjin's glowing form to strike Kaidei's chest. That which had been held so carefully hidden within the thief was released, ripped from its iron-hearted prison that he had so achingly struggled to maintain. With its sudden absence the agony dispersed, and breath once again came to him. The weight that had been upon his delicate shoulders - that which had held him down, chained, shackled, tamed, all these years, lifted. He was left trembling upon the ground, his right arm wrapped around his belly, his left hand out, palm pressed against the floor to hold him a'right, his breath coming in short, silent pants as his body gradually recovered from the ordeal it had just endured.

He blinked a few times, disoriented by the sight of the world - for a moment he saw it twice, one vision across the other. He saw Shenjin standing with the Sword in his hand, looking awed and entranced, Kurama and Yuusuke moving to stand beside him and look, too, at the magnificent weapon he held. He saw himself, his hand wrapped around the hilt, Kurama on his right, Yuusuke at his left, the Chimera thief at his back. Kaidei blinked, shook away the second vision - the vision of sight which the Wielder saw - and pushed himself to his feet with an effort, all his muscles aching and protesting at such a small, simply movement. No one had noticed his faltering control; no one had been aware of his pain, as Kurama and Yuusuke were with Shenjin, their backs to him. Kuwabara was still at the entrance of the room, his eyes riveted upon the trio about the sword - Hiei had flittered up to perch atop a ceiling-bar, his gaze upon the trio as well. All of them had forgotten his presence, and that of the kitsune-girl as well. This was to be a good thing, for Kaidei in his sudden weariness was loathe to deal with mortal questions.

Shenjin, as if hearing his silent sigh of relief, and easing of his tension - remembered his presence and turned to him. Pale, silver eyes met his tired gaze, filled with trembling confusion and... "Kaidei..."

Kaidei offered the boy a small, kindly smile. "Daijoubou, Jin-chan."

He then lifted his hand, waving it slightly as if to erase the vision of those gathered before him. He no longer had to fight to use only a portion of his ki now; he tapped only what he needed, and such an action was a great improvement upon easing how much strength he had to use in doing so. Without so much as a falter in his Power, each member of the Reikai Tantrei - Shenjin included - began to glow a faint, white-gold shade interlaced with black, crimson, violet, and now - most recently - a pale, pearl-green. They flickered in and out of Being between a place as Here and a place as There before disappearing entirely. Within seconds, the Chimera stood alone within the throne room.

He heaved a great, weary sigh, his shoulders slouching forward as his head bowed. Gods, he was tired. He had held on for so very long. Now, he was finally able to rest - truly and honestly rest. He was finally able to Live as he had always wanted to... but things must needs be done, first. The Master's domain, for instance, could not be allowed to remain. The slaves must be released, the youko-kits healed, Juyie taken care of...

Kaidei smirked as a particularly vicious form of retribution for the gold and green Master entered his mind. He had always been a mischievous creature at heart, although not particularly malicious but... ah, hell-fires. The stupid Master deserved it, for daring to even think of harming Shenjin in the first place. A grim, low laugh made its way past his lips and into sound. Yes, that idea was a good one. He'd have to remember to do it.

As for the other - the Shadow Master... well, there wasn't anything left of him to even think of dealing with.

Kaidei frowned a little, dismayed by the fact that that was one more black scar that had dug itself into his soul. There were thousands now, each individual, each the same in essence. Shaking his head and biting back upon another sigh, he walked forward to where the Sword had hovered. A soft, chiming of bells echoed from above and he glanced up expectedly, holding out his arms to catch the kitsune-maiden as the gentle force which had held her suspended in the air even after the Shadow Mage's death released her. She lay within his arms, a tiny smile coming to her lips as she mumbled, snuggling against him, pressing her muzzle in his shoulder and breathing deeply of his scent. Kaidei shifted her so she was comfortable before glancing up again, to the shadows above him.

"I want you to stay with them, even after I'm gone. Watch over them. Protect them. Especially this one, here."

A faint, second jingling of bells were the only response to his words; nodding a little he looked back to the throne room around him, his eyes searching for an exit. Upon finding only the door in which they had entered, he set his feet in that direction and began the blessed journey to walk that path which he had at long last been allowed to travel.

They scattered upon instinct as something fell from the sky between them, hitting the icy ground with a loud, thumping groan. Several of the small maidens gave off kittenish sounds of fear and fled to hide behind some of the outcroppings of ice. The few, decidedly more vicious of the maidens formed ice-blades of varying sizes within their hands, warily hissing at the figure in the middle of their circle. It was a tall figure, wrapped in what looked to be like... strings of... teargems! Their anger flashed as cold, as fierce as their hearts as they advanced, only to find that the blond-haired devil was in fact - even worse than the tear-gems - MALE!

Juyie was shown no mercy at the hands of the beautiful Koorime maidens, whose sisters had cried to crystalline teargems he had loved and adored so very much.

"Lord Koenma!!" George came bursting into the room, throwing the door wide in his haste with such force that it slammed against the opposing wall, creating a dull, thunderous sound that echoed throughout Koenma's office.

"What?!" Koenma snapped irritably, trying to simultaneously calm the sudden frantic beating of his heart, as well as recover from the lack of grace George's entrance had cost him; it looked like he needed to have another talk with him about his 'emotional reactions'. Sometimes that oni panicked over the stupidest things.

As it would turn out though, this was not one of those times.

George came stumbling to a halt amidst the impeccable clutter of the demigod's workspace and immediately grew silent, his hands leaping to clasp and wring at themselves nervously. He was clearly uncomfortable and fretting profusely where he stood, silent but for his unease. It didn't take someone who had known him for years to realize that this sudden quiet was not in the demon's nature; he looked not only as if he had seen a ghost, but as if that ghost was still following him, with one tentacle wrapped around his throat. "Lord Koenma... 'it'... has returned."

Koenma froze. He actually went cold, from the top of his hat to the very tips of his toes, all feeling, all thought, all reaction fled. The only outward symptom of his shock was revealed in the tiny, wayward movement of his eyes widening the slightest fraction. He didn't even have to inquire as to what 'it' his secretary spoke of; in fact, come to think of it, he would much rather not ask. "When..."

"J-Just now, Lord Koenma." George began fidgeting, tamed and subdued under the shear force of Koenma's shocked stare.

Slowly, gradually the chill began to thaw, and thought once again began to process. "Where? How? George!"

"I-In the Makai, sir. But it's moved - suddenly. I-In the Ningenkai."

"The human world?! What's it doing there?!" Koenma began floundering around at his desk, wanting something - needing something to find, to write, to do something with that might get something started. "Summon Botan! Find Yuusuke! Now, George! There's no time! We have to get it back - here -"

"But Lord Koenma -" George faltered, his voice fading to a whisper. ". . . there's more."

"Well?! Hurry up, then!"

"It's... Accepted one." In the face of a second shock-initiated stare from the demigod, George quickly surged on, determinedly spitting out all available information he had at his disposal. "We don't know how, sir, it just showed up and now it's Accepted one. We don't know if - if he - was there with - it - but we do know who it went through, who it Accepted, and we know that the one that it Accepted is now in the Ningenkai."

". . . and...?"

George deflated, looking close to tears. ". . . Yuusuke-san and Kurama-san were two of the three that - it - went through. It... Accepted... a kitsune boy who - is - Kurama's brother."

Silence.... "Ah." Quiet, level, dead-pan. George flinched.

"Lord Koenma... what shall we - do?"

The child behind the desk, the demigod, one of the most powerful life-forms in all planes of being, sat for many long moments, staring at a paper on his desk, unseeing, as his mind worked furiously for a solution. There were a thousand paths he could choose, a thousand actions he could take - and a thousand actions he could suspend. What shall we do? Koenma almost sneered at that thought - would have, if he hadn't been so painfully composed. What, indeed? After an eternity of silence he spoke, yet did not so much as move a single muscle from his position, palms flat upon the table, eyes set, envisioning some age-old memory he had not yet forgotten. "We shall do... nothing."

George nearly fell, so startled was he. "N-Nani? But Lord Koenma -"

"George... we shall do nothing." Koenma ran this thought through his mind once, twice, three times - and found it reasonable enough - for now. "Leave it in this kitsune's paws."

"But -"

"He is Kurama's brother, ne? Have you not seen that youko's blood-line?" It was a rhetorical question, of course, since only Koenma and his father - and a very few other, select gods - had privy to such information, but George, ever the dutiful servant, shook his head anyway. "No matter. We will leave it where it is. Mark it; keep watch over it at all times. I do not want it to disappear again. Tell Botan -... tell Botan nothing. This is too heavy a subject for her; she will never keep it silent when for now silence is the key. Yuusuke, Kurama - the others - must not know. As for this kitsune that's been Accepted - I want his files. All of them. Immediately. From this point on they are to be kept in my office alone and are to be classified."

Anxiously George began wringing his hands again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Lord Koenma can it really... kill... gods?"

"Yes." Koenma murmured, his eyes shifting in one smooth, unsettling movement to meet the oni's wavering gaze. "It can. Which is why we must keep an eye on it, and retrieve it as soon as possible, to divest it of the danger it represents. However, we cannot take this danger from it until he reveals himself. Have you located him?"

"Iie." George shook his head quickly. "His - signature - is still cloaked. There are reports of it being felt when it Accepted one, but - it was hard to decipher."

"Mm." That was expected; they were, after all, dealing with the best. "That will be all, George."

"H-hai, Lord Koenma."

"Oh, and George?"

George stilled, his claw already upon the handle of the door. "Yes, Lord Koenma?"

"Thank you for informing me."

Jerkily the oni nodded, before quickly hurrying from the room, leaving a very quiet, very disturbed demigod in his wake. Somewhere Familiar, in the Ningenkai...

A delicate, muffled shriek accompanied their arrival, followed instantly by all gazes - two, particularly fierce and guarded - to settle upon a very ruffled, very surprised Yukina. Her dark red eyes were wide in what had been fear but was now only shock; one tiny hand was pressed against her chest, the other against her flushing cheeks. At her feet lay a small tray on which had lain a few cups and a pot of tea - all were shattered.

"O-Oh, my." She stumbled quite gracefully, looking over all of them where they stood - beaten, battered, and generally the worse for wear. "Y-Yuusuke-san, Kuwabara-chan..." She appeared to notice at last that she had dropped her tray, and immediately became dismayed. "Oh, look at the mess I've made!"

"I will help you Yukina-chan!" Kuwabara leapt forward to do good upon his offer; Hiei watched in disgust, his eyes narrowed. Only Kurama's gentle hand upon his shoulder stilled him from killing the human now bashfully flirting with his sister; calm, emerald eyes met his gaze, encouraging him to reign in his anger and have patience. Reluctantly Hiei did so, sending a scathing glare at Kurama before looking beyond to the horizon, steadfastly ignoring the others. He did not, however, move from Kurama's side, nor pull away from his touch.

"How the hell did we get here?" Yuusuke demanded, whirling to stare at Genkai's temple grounds as if each turn held a demon ready to leap out and devour them.

Shenjin lifted the Sword, his silver eyes wandering along the wide, curving blade as it sliced through the light of the sun. The hand-guard was a flat piece of demon-iron that hooked up and curved back almost to the base of the hilt and was black - and such a dark red as to be black. A pale green stone was nestled at the apex; the hilt itself was wrapped in tattered black leather and laced with crimson leather strips. It was magnificent, to say the very least. Immediately all available eyes - excluding Kuwabara, for his gaze was riveted upon Yukina, whose worried gaze was settled only upon the mess she was quickly trying to clean up - were upon the Sword as it sheared a ray of sunlight in half as cleanly as it would have slid through water.

Kurama, now complete within his ningen form once more, stepped closer. He did not dare to touch the Sword - none of them did, for although beautiful and basking in being fawned over, it sent each a subtle warning to their unconscious that it was not to be Touched. Only Shenjin, the Wielder of the Sword, could do so.

And it was his brother, Kurama, who brought forth the question hovering within all but Shenjin's mind. "Where's Kaidei?"

Shenjin lowered the Sword, his silver eyes lifting to gaze upon the horizon. He could feel something within him - some extra sense that had not been there before. He felt strong, powerful - yet cowed and small. He was hyper-aware of the presence of those around them, of the feel and shades of their ki - of the feel of their general demeanors - neither of which he had been able to do before. More than that, he could feel...

Completely.... It was like feeling himself, a million miles away. Kaidei's presence was by his side, within his mind, connected to him in a way that no other mortal creature had ever known before. He could sense Leina's presence as well - faint, but there, for she was with Kaidei and he was taking care of her. Both were safe. He could also feel, over-lying the feel of them both, the thief's steadfast determination and actions with which to - as he thought of it - "clean up the fool's mess." Shenjin picked up on these thoughts because they were so very strong - although, in a way, he wished he could sense more of Kaidei himself beneath it. He wished he could sense more of Kaidei's own feelings.

Wishes were wishes, however, and not very many are ever granted.

And so he focused instead upon the matter at hand: Kurama's question, and Yuusuke's as well. He knew how they had come to be back at Genkai's temple - by Kaidei's bidding and the Sword's Power. How the two were connected, however, even he - connected as he was to the thief's mind, connected as his youki was, woven now into the very depths and Power of the Sword - could not feel.

"He's coming." Shenjin murmured softly, his voice a bare whisper above the tranquil silence moving then between them. "And Leina will be with him."