They burn so brightly, these children of mine. So brightly and so quickly. I never have time to know them before they are gone.

I have lived centuries beyond number, spent caring for my children, watching them grow and learn and die. I saddens me sometimes, but in truth, there is nothing I can do.

I sigh and turn away from my mirror of water in its wine and flower frame. There is much to be done, as there always is, but I cannot bring myself to do it. I am lonely.

It is always so strange to visit this place. The bustling, noisy office is so different from my own hushed, calm dwelling. Strange also to see so many people. To see them stop, as one, and look up at my arrival.

Someone quietly skitters into the private office at the back. A moment later, my dear nephew comes running out. Slightly winded, he skids to a halt before me.

I smile and resist the urge to scoop the toddler up and cuddle him. I fear if I do, I shall never put him down. "Dearest obasan," he says in his high voice. "What brings you to Reikai? Is something wrong?"

I shake my head. "Do I really come so infrequently it must invariably be crisis which sends me?" a rich, vibrant voice says. It startles me to realize it is mine. Has it truly been so long since I have spoken that I have forgotten the sound of my own voice?

My nephew seems not to know quite what to say. Perhaps 'tis true and crisis is the only cause for my visits. I sigh. "Dearest Koenma-oi, I visit far too infrequently, I see. I have come this once merely to visit with my family."

"I'll take you to Otousan," my nephew decides. "I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to see you."

"Arigato gozaimasu," I reply, inclining my head gracefully. My nephew toddle off, leading me to his father's throne room.

I can feel his embarrassment when he trips before the throne. I help him right himself with a warm and reassuring smile. This form of his is so endearing, stirring maternal longings in my breast--much more than does his true form. I have long suspected he keeps to such youth out of embarrassment for the special stone pacifier he must always have.

"Gaea, dear imoutosan," my brother's voice rumbles softly.

"Enma, dear oniisan," I smile back. Enma inclines his great head in the shadows, and the room empties entirely. As the door closes on young Koenma, I allow myself to take my true form, which is almost as large as my brother's.

"Dear imoutosan, what brings you to my realm?" Enma asks me curiously.

"Loneliness, oniisan," I admit. His arms open to me and I allow myself to slip into his lap to be comforted.

"Is this a family reunion and I'm not invited?" the mischievous voice of my younger sister asks. Enma and I look up to see her sneaking in a window.

"Youkari-imoutosan," Enma greets courteously.

"Welcome, dear imoutosan," I say at the same time, smiling. Youkari scampers over to squirm into our brother's lap, uninvited, taking his other knee easily.

"Long time, no see, Gaea-'niichan."

"Hai," I agree. "Too long."

We spend a few moments--precious ones--just sitting together in silence. All of us have so many responsibilities; this is not something we can do often. Finally, Youkari speaks.

"Well, I ought to get back to Makai before one of my kids decides to steal my seat," she says cheerfully.

"They are quite rude," Enma reproves.

"It's all in the upbringing," Youkari replies smugly. "Makai's full of wonderful thieves and scoundrels." She slips off Enma's lap and waves to us both. "Ja ne!"

I remain a moment longer. Finally, I sigh. "I, too, must go . . . my children cannot fend for themselves just yet."

"Even so peaceful as Ningenkai is . . . " Enma finishes. "Dear imoutosan, take care. Visit again when you have a free moment."

I incline my head, sliding off my brother's knee and resuming my convenient form. "Sayonara, oniisan."

Back in my home, I discover my loneliness is unabated. It is time, I think, to choose a successor. The thought lightens my heart, and I begin the search.

It has taken me quite some time to find him. I smile, looking down at him. I never had thought a man could be so beautiful. He is fast asleep, his fiery soft hair spread across his pillow and sheets. I step closer.

I smile again. In my hand I hold a breathtakingly perfect rose. It is unlike any other in existence, blood red at the center, fading to snowy white at the outer edge. I reach out to lay it on his pillow.

"Leave him alone," a deep and menacing voice growls softly. I spin, startled, to see a short young man with spiky black hair, red-amber eyes, and a vicious scowl. He is dressed all in black but for the scarf around his neck and the bandages around his arm and forehead. I suddenly realize he is not one of my children, but rather one of my sister's.

He seems to realize who I am, as well. He lowers his katana, slowly straightening from his fighting stance. He cannot hide the brief flash of grief and agony that crosses his face and darkens his eyes.

I turn back to the one I have chosen as my heir. He stirs in his sleep, sighing a name. "Hiei . . . " he smiles. I reach out with the rose and brush it across his lips. I raise it to my face, then tuck it in my hair.

I turn to go, leaving through the window. I pause to lean down and brush my lips softly against those of my sister's child. I let the wind take me then, smiling a bittersweet smile. Though he does not know it yet, I have given a precious gift to him--to them both. And perhaps . . . to myself, as well . . .

Kurama smiled up at Hiei from his spot on the ground. Hiei gave him a look that was his alone, a look of carefully guarded warmth and tenderness. The fire demon leaned down; Kurama tilted his head up to receive the kiss.

"'Tousan! Papa!" a young voice squealed. Kurama chuckled softly at Hiei's exasperated groan. They watched as their four- year-old son came running around the house. He had long, messy black hair with flaming highlights, and his bright golden eyes sparkled with delight.

"Our surprise child," Kurama whispered, smiling at Hiei's soft grunt. "Kiyoshi, done your nap so soon?" he called, scooping the boy up in a huge hug. Neither he nor Hiei had ever expected to have a child together.

"Hai, Papa!" Kiyoshi giggled, hugging Kurama back. He then threw his arms around Hiei's neck.

"Did you have good dreams, Kiyoshi-kun?" Hiei asked, returning the hug quickly and with infinite care.

Kiyoshi nodded. "Hai, 'Tousan! I dreamed about the lady I'm gonna marry when I grow up!"

Kurama smiled indulgently. "Was she pretty?"

"Hai! She was even prettier than 'Kina-obasan. And tall-- even taller than you, Papa!" Kiyoshi enthused. "With long brown hair and green eyes and golden skin. And she said we'd be together someday forever, and she gave me this as a promise!" The boy dug something out of his back pocket and held it out to his fathers.

Hiei's eyes widened, and he stifled a gasp. Kiyoshi held in his hand a breathtakingly perfect rose, blood red at its center fading to pure snowy white at the outer edge . . .