His aunt was pregnant, he could tell that. She was absorbing large amounts of energy from around her, and he knew if he touched her, she could take his already depleted you-ki to feed her twins. He remembered that, from his father's experience. He wondered if Yukina's husband was powerful enough to help her. He was only Human, after all.
Yukina suddenly opened her eyes, blinked sleepily at him, focused a moment, glanced at his forehead; recognition flickered across her face. "What's your name?" she asked, sitting up.
"Hiei," piped up his sister, from where she sat. Yukina smiled down at Juei. Hiei turned his head to watch his twin.
"I asked _him_," Yukina chastised gently.
"He doesn't talk," Juei explained apologetically. Yukina looked back up at Hiei.
"Why don't you talk?" she wondered. He watched her solemnly.
"He just doesn't," Juei told her. Yukina frowned.
"Does he have a speech impediment?" She reached up to touch his cheek; Hiei tensed, but did not pull away. Her fingers were soft and warm, her aura non-threatening; he trembled, nevertheless.
"Oh, he _can_ talk," Juei replied, watching Yukina anxiously. "He just doesn't."
Yukina closed her eyes, touched his mind with hers, searching. Hiei yanked his head back, panicking, breaking their physical contact, startling his aunt; she let out a soft cry and pulled her hand to her chest, eyes wide.
"He doesn't like being touched, either," Juei pointed out. Yukina looked down at her again.
"Why not?" she wondered. Juei met Hiei's gaze a moment; her dark eyes returned to Yukina's face.
"He just...doesn't." Hiei watched his sister. She didn't have to explain the way he was. She wanted to, he knew, so Yukina wouldn't think him strange, the way Reikaze did. He wondered if their father would find him strange.
"Koenma-sama?" the oni frowned, puzzled. "I wasn't notified that I had to tell you about any pending arrivals. I haven't received any memoranda to that effect, at least."
"He happens to be one of our detectives," Koenma informed him. The oni skimmed the form; his frown deepened.
"But he wasn't on official business," was the reply. "What he does on his free time has no bearing on his status here, does it?" Koenma mustered his best glare, was moderately satisfied to see the oni cringe.
"I don't care if he was _working_ when it happened," he pointed out. "What concerns me is that he will not be able to work in the future, if he's dead." He folded his arms, gnawed his pacifier in annoyance.
"I don't know what to say, Koenma-sama. I only fill out the forms as the information passes my desk."
Koenma whirled, his cape flying behind him, and stalked back to his office to make arrangements for his absence.
He spun in the middle of the circle of youkai, sliced a dozen of them at once, tried to conserve his strikes, lost count of the number that had already died on the edge of his blade. He'd been hit several times -- not badly; he was bruised but not bleeding.
He would kill them all before he died, he vowed this much; he'd been forced to break a promise long ago, and he was determined to make up for it now.
He heard a familiar yell, sensed collective surprise from the youkai, and then Yuusuke and Kuwabara were with him. The three of them fought in tandem, their backs together, covering one another, the way they had many times before.
He saw the flash of Kuwabara's rei-ken as it sliced through youkai as cleanly as his own sword, felt a jolt in the surrounding air as Yuusuke summoned his ki and blasted several youkai at once.
And for once he didn't resent their intrusion into his affairs.
"Yukina," he growled, not missing a beat. "Is she -- ?"
"Home," Kuwabara called back. "She's fine, no thanks to you." Hiei snarled, separated a youkai's head from its body, wondered if he could make it look like an accident if he did the same thing to Kuwabara.
And suddenly the three of them were alone in the Makai, surrounded by bodies; they looked at one another and without a word headed together to the Ningenkai.
"Obachan," Yuume said, climbing to sit next to her on the couch. "When will kaachan wake up?"
"When she's feeling better," Keiko assured the little girl, with a smile, setting aside her coffee and book. Yuume returned the smile, baring sharp little teeth.
"Can I sit with you?" she asked, patting Keiko's thigh.
"Of course," Keiko said, and shifted to accommodate her. Yuume settled happily on her lap, and Keiko wrapped her arms around the tiny Koorime. She closed her eyes and imagined she was holding her own little daughter, hers and Yuusuke's, a beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed little creature named --
"Yuume!!" Yukina's voice startled her, and Keiko jumped. She looked down at Yuume, who had somehow unfastened Keiko's shirt without her noticing. The fingers of one cool little hand were pressed against Keiko's neck, as though to check her pulse. "Yuume," Yukina said, hurrying into the room. "You get down, right now!" Yuume made a disappointed sound, and slid from Keiko's lap. Yukina caught her daughter's wrist, smacked her bottom. "You go sit in your room," she commanded, and watched as Yuume slunk away. She turned to Keiko, who blinked, puzzled, and put her hand to her throat.
"Gomen nasai, Keiko-san," Yukina apologised. "Sometimes Yuume forgets -- " She blushed. "She forgets that she can't treat others the way she treats Kazuma-san and myself."
"It's...all right," Keiko replied weakly, buttoning her shirt. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Yukina assured her, smiling. "I was just a little -- overwhelmed. Would you like some tea?"
"I have coffee," Keiko shook her head, indicating her cup. "Doumo. I'll stay, though, if you don't mind, until the boys come back. Just in case you need anything."
"I don't mind at all," Yukina told her, and moved to sit awkwardly on a comfortable chair. Keiko noted enviously that the other woman's pregnancy was becoming apparent. Yukina blushed, following her gaze, and folded her hands over her belly.
"What's it like?" Keiko asked wistfully. "To have a baby?"
Juei wrapped her arms around him, let her own ki surround him. He refused it, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the look he knew she was giving him. She would not relent; he gave in, finally, absorbed a little of his sister's energy, enough to mollify her but not enough to weaken her.
He and Juei had fed from their father before their birth, and Yukina's twins needed to feed in a similar manner. It didn't matter from where they fed, and he was as good a source as any, wasn't he?
"Wrong," Juei informed him. He smiled at her again, and dozed, comfortable in her embrace, safe and warm in their aunt's bed.
And so he was working to rule.
Which meant that he got a certain number of breaks, and he was bound, bent and determined to take each and every single one of them.
He also was not going to work overtime. Nor was he going to exceed his daily quotas.
He checked the time. Forty seconds left on this break; he was going to enjoy them. He put his feet up on his desk and tucked his hands behind his head and stopped the clock with a thought.
It would be the longest forty seconds on record, he mused.
He didn't like to be touched because in his limited experience it had invariably brought pain. He knew that his father had touched him, remembered his father's gentle fingers, strong hands, holding him close, holding Juei close; but that had been so long ago, and there were more memories of pain now than anything else. Reikaze would touch him with a spell, with a blade, with a brand; sometimes with her bare hands. Never would she simply touch him for the sake of touching him. If she had nothing to do to him, she had nothing to do with him, and he often did not see her for days.
The pain invaded his dreams, even now, wrapped in the warm safety of a home Reikaze would never have allowed him, and Hiei thrust his arms straight out in front of him, unintentionally striking his twin and throwing her off the bed. He scrambled to his knees, still half-asleep, mortified at what he'd done, thinking cloudy apologies to her. Juei picked herself up, dusted herself off, flashed him a rueful smile, assured him she was unhurt, and that she understood.
He sat back on his heels, lowered his head, sighed. Juei sat on the bed beside him, tentatively touched the back of his hand with her fingertips. He recoiled involuntarily; his nerves were still on edge from the dream. Juei persisted, touched him again, and he forced himself to hold still.
"He's coming for us," she murmured, ducking her head to look up into his face. Hiei blinked, disbelieving. Juei put her hand to the glittering gem at her throat, smiled. He envied her the link she had with their father through that gem; he knew she'd had to work hard to achieve the link, but he envied her the opportunity to forge it. Hearing his thoughts, Juei lifted both hands, unfastened the clasp of the chain from which her gem dangled, and handed chain and pendant to him. He frowned, handed it back to her. Juei shook her head.
"I've touched him," she told him softly, "talked to him. He taught me things. We slept outside in the sunshine. You keep it." She closed his fingers over the gem. Hiei held it tightly, pulled it to himself, hardly dared look at it. Juei smiled. The corners of his mouth lifted, and he looked down at his fist, at the tiny bit of his father that he had been denied all his life.
"You are so full of shit," the youko yawned, reappearing on the chair beside his bed. "If you were really upset by it, you'd do something about it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, icily.
"Wake up, you selfish little prick. Yes, it hurts. I was there when she was doing it to you. But you're alive now, or partly there, and you're free, and you haven't the right to decide whether or not we live or die based on your not wanting to deal with it."
"I'm dealing fine with it," he snapped. The youko flattened his ears, startling him. Did he really look that mean, when he did that? He shuddered, or wanted to.
"You're dealing with it by trying to hide away in a comfortable little world where no one can touch you." The youko leaned forward, sharp teeth bared. "You're putting a knife into Shiori's back and twisting. She gave you life, when you sure as hell didn't deserve it. So now you're going to turn your back on her and let yourself die. Is that how you repay your debts, Shuuichi? Or does that not matter, now that you've been broken?"
"I'm not broken!" he shouted.
"You are and you can't handle it. What's pride, Shuuichi? It can be rebuilt. So the bitch made you cry. So she made you lie in your own shit and puke for a year. So she made you scared of your own shadow. Does that mean you have the right to deny anyone else his life?"
"I'm not -- "
"Forget about me," the youko interrupted. "Let's focus on Hiei."
And at the mention of that one, the room vanished, and he was curled in a velvet black corner with his arms around a soft warm pillow that yielded to his touch; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and sighed.
"You think," the youko's icy tones cut through the darkness, slashing at him without making him bleed, "that I can't find you here? Who else but me can find you here? I made this place for you, you selfish little bastard, so don't think you can hide until you die, because I'm going to hound you up to your last breath, or until you realise what a conceited, self-centred child you are."
He had never realised what an aggravating son of a bitch he could be, sometimes.