He sent the worst vibes he could toward Hiei; the sour little youkai did not look at him, did not acknowledge his presence. He was focused on something else, a panicked expression on his normally emotionless visage.

"What the hell is going on?" Yuusuke demanded, breaking in on his thoughts. Hiei did not respond. "Hiei," Yuusuke snapped, "what is going on? What was that all about?" Still Hiei was silent, running, his aura flickering anxiously, flaring now and again. Annoyed, Yuusuke made a sound and looked up at Kazuma. He shrugged, baffled.

They passed into the Ningenkai and the three of them were silent until they reached the Kuwabara home. They burst in through the door and were met with the sight of Yukina, sitting in her chair, and Keiko, kneeling with her head in Yukina's lap. Yukina was petting Keiko's hair; and Keiko had been crying.

Kazuma and Yuusuke stopped, staring.

"Yukina-san," Kazuma gulped. She looked up at him, showed him a small smile, assured him with a thought that she and the babies were perfectly fine.

"Keiko?" Yuusuke frowned, moving to crouch beside her. She turned her face away; Yukina stroked her hair, put a hand on Yuusuke's arm.

"Keiko-san," she said quietly, "come with me to the kitchen, and we'll make tea for everyone." Keiko nodded, stood, helped Yukina out of her chair, and they both headed to the kitchen.

Yuusuke straightened, looked at Kazuma. "Women are so weird," he shook his head.

"Uhn," Kazuma nodded, perplexed.

"You're lucky, Hiei," Yuusuke began, "that you don't -- " He halted, looking around the room. Kazuma turned a circle; Hiei was nowhere to be seen.

"What a little creep," he shuddered. "I never see him coming or going."

He grasped frantically at memories, piecing together the past, despairing as he felt it slipping away from him yet again. His guts turned to water. He sank to his knees, fell forward on his hands, dropped his head and closed his eyes.

*otousama*

They were there with him, two trusting spirits, moving against him, ducking into his embrace, and he held them close the way he had when they'd been born, the way he should have done as they were growing up, the way he hadn't dared remember wanting to do.

Juei pressed her face against his neck, with a sigh; the other, his son -- he didn't even know his name --

*Hiei*

-- trembled against him, a tiny frightened bird, afraid of his touch but needing it, terrified of losing him again --

With one child under each arm, he leaped out the window and headed for the safest place he knew.

A chill rolled through his body in a sudden, sickening wave.

When had he started to think of the youko as 'Kurama'? As a separate entity, not himself?

"Oh, I might as well be," the youko told him cheerfully. "After all, you're a gutless, honourless piece of Human filth, hardly worthy of hosting me in your pathetic little body."

"You know," he replied, "you're not helping matters."

"Can't very well do any worse, now, can I?" was the smooth response.

He put the pillow over his head in a vain attempt to block the youko's silky voice.

Juei closed her eyes and closed his wound; he blinked, for he hadn't realised she had the talent for healing. "Something my mother taught me," she murmured. "I learned _some_ useful things from her."

"Uhn," he agreed, turning again to look at Hiei, losing himself momentarily in the depths of his son's dark eyes, darker thoughts.

How could he ever forgive himself for breaking that promise to them? No matter what had happened to him, he should never have allowed them to be taken away from him --

*he hadn't had a choice, she'd put him to sleep*

-- and he should never, ever have forgotten his children. He blinked, realising his son was holding out his hand. He looked down; Hiei held in his palm the tear gem Juei had worn at her throat, and the chain on which it had been suspended. He frowned, looked at Juei. She shrugged.

"He never had anything like that," she explained. "I gave him mine." She blushed a little, looked up at her brother through her hair; he remained focused on his father.

He looked down again at the tear gem. "It's yours," he pointed out. Hiei wondered why Juei had gotten one, and he hadn't. "Reikaze stole them," he explained softly. "I didn't cry until she took you two away from me." Hiei's face grew troubled; he didn't want to take something that had been forced from his father. "I wouldn't have cried if I hadn't lost you. Keep it." Hiei's slender fingers closed, one by one, over the glittering jewel. With a look of almost supreme satisfaction, he tucked the gem somewhere into his clothing, and put his hands once more in front of him for balance, and continued watching his father, content.

"Otousama," Juei said softly, pressing against him, "we can't stay here forever. Kurama-sama -- "

"I know," he said, looking down at her. "You'll both be safe here." He reached up, tapped the wall of the cave they were in. "This is some sort of magnetised rock," he explained. "There's nothing like it in the Makai. You can't feel you-ki through it. No one will find you here, if you stay quiet." Juei nodded. "I won't be gone long." He got to his feet, pulled his cloak over his shoulders, tucked his sword behind him, looked down at his children, sitting together on the floor of the cave. "Over there," he pointed to a crevice in the wall, "are some blankets, and a bit of food."

As he left, he avoided looking at his son, afraid to see the terror in his eyes as he watched his father leave him again. >>I'll be back,<< he promised. >>No matter what.<< He sped away from the cave, too fast for anyone to see him go.

He went first to the Minamino residence.

"I couldn't help it," she sobbed, as he led her to the couch. "I was playing with Yuume-chan, and then -- and then -- " She gulped, took a deep breath. He leaned back, pulled her to rest on his chest. "And then I could see how big Yukina-chan is getting, and I couldn't help it." He rubbed circles on her back with his palm.

Keiko had miscarried twice in the space of a year; both times had been devastating for her -- no less for him. Yuusuke could not help but wonder if it wasn't his fault, that perhaps it was his new physiology, that it wasn't compatible with Keiko's delicate Human-ness --

But Kuwabara and Yukina were going to have twins, and so that couldn't be the explanation, he reasoned. The physical stress of working at the shop might have contributed to it, he thought; but if he even suggested that she take time off, Keiko would clobber him for thinking her incompetent. On the other hand, he mused, getting clobbered was nothing new, and on the off chance that she might not --

"Keiko," he murmured into her ear, stroking her hair, "let's take a holiday."

"Hiei-kun," she exclaimed, spotting him in the doorway. "When did you get here?" It didn't occur to her to ask first how he had gotten into the house and up the stairs without waking her; but she had no time to be concerned for his manners.

"Just now," he replied softly. He was so serene, so mild -- no wonder her son adored him. "How is he?"

"Not well," she told him, suddenly fighting tears. "He -- I've had to force-feed him." He slipped into the room, moving almost faster than she could see, and perched on the edge of the bed.

"What'll happen if he doesn't wake up soon?" he wondered, reaching out, touching Shuuichi's head, smoothing where there had once been luxurious hair, where there was now only stubble and scars.

"I'll have to take him to a hospital," Shiori told him. "I can't take care of him much longer, like this. My husband is going to come home soon -- " Hiei frowned.

"You wait," he said. "I know someone who might be able to help."

He was gone before she could take a breath, and Shiori could not be sure that he had been there at all, that it had not been a dream.

"Drop dead."

"Too late," the youko crowed, "I already have."

"Will you leave me alone?"

"I will not," was the reply. "I always said I didn't want to die alone. Might as well make you miserable along with me."

"You're succeeding nicely."

"Good. Wonder who he's going to see?"

"Yukina."

"Oh, I don't think so. He would have brought her here long before now, if he was going to have her heal you. Not that you deserve it, mind you, which might be why he hasn't brought her."

"She's pregnant."

"Ah, good excuse. Yes. So, want to take bets on who he'll bring back with him?"

"Not particularly."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

He snarled, growing fed up with the taunts. "Will you just go away, leave me alone, let me have some peace?"

"Why should I?" Kurama wondered, calmly. "You're the reason I'm not going to live to marry the one and only person I've ever loved. Of course," he went on carelessly, "you wouldn't know what that's like."

"You bastard, you know it's not true."

"Then prove it."

"I don't have to."

"Oh, yes you do. I dare you. I double dare you."

"You are so immature."

"I've had hundreds of years to cultivate this attitude. You've had what, twenty? Don't talk to me of immature, you prissy little bastard. I've had more kits in my lifetime than you've had girls drooling on your heels, and they've all turned out more mature at eight than you were at eighteen."

He sighed, burrowed deeper into his pillow. It seemed to be growing warmer, softer, much more inviting. The youko's voice faded slightly, and he smiled to himself.

He stamped the second-to-last form in his inbox. Reluctantly, he picked up the last one. He'd pulled it out of order, deliberately leaving it to the last, hoping to think of a way of getting around having to process it.

Koenma fingered the seal in his hand, twirled it between his fingers, set it down on the desk.

He wasn't an immortal deity for nothing. Surely there was something he could do.

On the other hand, his father was an even more immortal deity, and one he didn't dare cross. Not openly, at least. Remembering that, he checked the clock, making sure he hadn't worked past his scheduled hours; he had ten minutes left.

He stuck the form into his inbox. It would wait until morning. He put his feet up on his desk and rolled his pacifier between his teeth, thoughtful. Botan had told him what had happened to Kurama; but she had been able to get him little information other than that. He couldn't quite believe that simple torture could do to Kurama what it had apparently done, but there it was, a fact, and he could not dispute it.

Shouts interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly lowered his feet to the floor. The doors to his office were flung open and a flurry of oni rolled in; they were tossed aside by a tiny form in black, and Koenma smiled.

"Hiei," he said, relieved. "Am I glad to see you."