December 29th, 3:20 p.m.
        The traffic was indeed bad, and it was nearly three thirty before they arrived.  In the back seat little Shuuichi was snoring with his head on Shiori's lap.  She pinched his nose and he woke up with a sneeze.  From the front passenger seat, Kurama looked out at the old farmhouse and the trees and rice fields that surrounded it.  This would probably be nice, he decided.  He'd have to explore the bamboo grove behind the house when he got a chance.  As a Youko he had always lived close to nature and although he loved his home in Tokyo, there was something foreign about the artificiality of it.
        A small child ran excitedly out of the house, and then, suddenly shy, darted back inside.  Two older girls came out, the smaller one peeking out from between them, and then a woman came out wiping her hands on her apron in a business-like fashion.  Kurama felt a twinge of nervousness.  This had to go well, for Shiori's sake.  She had chosen to make these people his relatives, and she would feel bad if they didn't hit if off.  They got out of the car, gathered up their bags, and approached the house.  A plump old woman waved a dish towel from the doorway.
        "Shuu-chan," she called, "Come in and lie down!  I'll mix up something to settle your stomach.  Poor baby!  Did you throw up?"
        "Obaasan," he cringed, "I haven't gotten car sick since I was eight!"
        The two older girls thought this exchange was quite funny and began teasing him.  He retaliated by pretending to be sick down the backs of their collars.
        Shiori was looking a little nervous and bewildered.  Kurama moved to stand by her side and gave her an encouraging smile.  She smiled back and took a deep breath.  They were ushered inside, into a large but cozy room where Kurama caught his first glimpse of the reportedly crazy Ojiisan being helped into the room by his older son.  Then the introductions and greetings began.
        "Shuuichi-kun," said their father, after Shiori had been thoroughly introduced, "I want you to meet my father, who was unfortunately unable to attend the wedding."
        Kurama expressed his happiness in meeting such an honorable grandfather, and touched on his ever-present gratitude to the man's son for his constant fatherly care.
        "Well.  A polite young lady.  Unlike some."  The old man glared pointedly at the two older girls who dissolved in giggles.  Little Shuuichi tried to keep a straight face.  Kurama had warned him that misbehavior would reflect badly on Shiori, so he had promised to be good when any adults were present.
        Their father intervened and rescued Kurama.
        "Yes, my new SON is polite, and I'm hoping he'll be a good influence on Shuu-kun, but so far I have seen no sign of improvement with that one," he smiled.
        Shuuichi put on an angelic look as his grandfather eyed him doubtfully.
        "And this is my mother," he continued, indicating the older lady with the motion sickness remedy.  Kurama indicated what an honor it was to meet her.
        "You city boys don't eat enough," she pronounced with concern.
        "She's going to pinch his cheek," whispered Shuuichi in suspense.
        "No, she isn't," whispered one of the girls.
        "She will, she will," predicted the other.
        "I'll teach your mother some of my cooking secrets," she promised him.
        "Ah... thank you."
        "Because four days isn't nearly long enough to fatten you up.  Just look at you!"
        She pinched his cheek.
        Then he greeted his aunt and uncle, whom he had met before.
        "Shuu-kun," suggested Otousan, "why don't you introduce your brother to your cousins."
        "Right.  Ah, this is my new big brother, Shuuichi-san.  He's pretty much perfect, except he doesn't play soccer.  And this is my attractive cousin Sanae, and her charming sister Kanae.  You can see that Kana-chan in particular has benefited from Obaasan's fattening-up campaign."
        "Shuu-chan, you jerk," accused Sanae, "I bet you've been telling him all kinds of terrible things about us."
        "I have not," he lied.
        She turned to Kurama and her scowl disappeared.
        "Shuu-san, it's a pleasure to meet you," she cooed with all the feminine charm at her disposal.
        "Yeah, nice to meet you," agreed Kanae, looking him up and down.
        "I'm looking forward to spending New Year's with you all," he replied.  "This is my first experience with cousins."  He immediately wondered if they were going to read some innuendo into that and wished he had phrased it differently, but as they didn't giggle, it must have gone over their heads.
        "And this is Miko," continued Shuuichi, practically as an afterthought.  She had only come to his attention because he had just tripped over her.
        "I'm five," she announced solemnly, holding up four fingers.
        "I'm this many," Kurama told her, opening and closing his hands to indicate his age.  She gazed blankly at him.  At first glance, she certainly didn't seem like a child prodigy.  Her purported talents must lie in other areas than math.
        Obasan bustled back in from finalizing preparations for their rooms.
        "I'll show you all where you can put your things.  Poor dear," she said to Shiori, "You must be all tired out from that car trip.  We have to go in the kitchen and have a long chat.  Now, the girls are all sleeping in Sana-chan's room, and I gave Miko-chan's room to the boys, so you and your husband can have Kana-chan's room."  Shiori and Kurama followed her with their bags.  Otousan and Ojisan were already deep in some discussion about this year's rice crops.

        Shuuichi followed the girls into the TV room.  He opened his backpack with a flourish to reveal about thirty video game cartridges.
        "The Nintendo's broken," Sanae informed him.
        "Kyaa!"  He gazed down in dismay at the cartridges spilling out of his bag.  "I wish I'd known that.  I would've packed some clothes."
        "You didn't even pack any UNDERWEAR?" asked Kanae in horror.
        "Well of course I packed underwear.  It's in the little side pocket."  Shuuichi began scooping the games sadly back into the backpack and zipping it up.
        "I don't believe you," she teased.  "Let me see it, then I'll believe you."
        "No."
        "Ah, I bet he's embarrassed 'cause it has cute little pictures on it!" exclaimed Sanae.
        "Hey, remember those soccer bear underpants he used to wear?"
        Their mother walked in, mumbling about coat hangers.
        "Obasan!"  He hid behind her.  "Kanae wants to see my underwear."
        "Kana-chan, what on earth is with you girls?  Is this the way you act in school?  I swear, every day I expect a phone call from your teacher."

        Kurama was examining the contents of a large bookshelf.
        "Feel free to look at any of those," offered Obasan, putting a basket of cookies on the kotatsu, and then heading back to the kitchen.  There didn't seem to be anything on plants.  Kurama selected an ancient-looking dictionary of obscure kanji and sat down to flip through it.  His three cousins occupied the other three sides of the kotatsu.  Shuuichi had apparently snuck off to see some long-lost friends.
        Sanae had a set of colored pencils out and was copying pictures badly out of a particularly mushy girls' comic.  Kanae was unwrapping and eating the cookies, while looking at a judo magazine.  Miko was drawing pictures contentedly with crayons.
        "Nine point two, do you think?" asked Sanae, looking at Kurama.
        "Mm," agreed Kanae, looking up at him as well.
        "What do you mean, nine point two?" he asked them.
        "That's your score.  Your rank."
        "Ah.  On a scale of one to ten?"
        "No, no.  On a scale of one to nine point two."
        "Hmm...  That's an odd kind of scale, isn't it?"
        "Well, it used to be one to nine.  Actually it started out one to five, didn't it?"
        Kanae concurred, unwrapping yet another cookie.
        "But we just keep seeing better and better guys, so we raise our standards."
        "Well, that's quite flattering...in a demeaning sort of way," Kurama commented under his breath.
        "Not that you're the coolest looking guy we've ever seen," Sanae assured him hastily.  "There's lots of rock stars and TV stars and so on..."
        "But you're here," explained Kanae.
        "Right.  You get points for being here.  As opposed to some teen idol we could never hope to meet."
        "Like Masa-san from The Painted Hearts," put in Kanae.
        "Kyaaaaaaaa Masa-san....." sighed Sanae.
        "Shuu-san," Kanae inquired, "Are you good at judo?"
        "No, not really.  Do you study judo?"
        "Yeah, stand up, I'll show you what I've been learning lately."
        He stood up and, after blocking her a few times, allowed her to knock him down.  She pinned him to the tatami floor.
        "Kanae-san, I may not be a judo expert," he said, "but I know that's not a legal hold."
        "Huh?" she asked innocently.
        "Get off me, please," he clarified.
        "If she won't get off, you can bite her," advised Miko helpfully.
        Kanae sighed and climbed off him.  Then, pretending disinterest in her new cousin, she checked out her sisters' artwork.  Kurama reclaimed his seat and his book.
        "Hey, Sana-chan, Miko's a lot better than you are," Kanae commented.
        Miko smiled.
        "I'm gonna draw Oniisan's picture."
        "Ah, me too," exclaimed Sanae.  "Shuu-san, turn your head more up and straight, will you?"
        He put his book down.
        "Like this?"
        "No, more to the left."
        "I'll do it," said Kanae, hurrying over to arrange him to Sanae's liking.
        "Okay, that's fine, get out of the way," said the older girl.  She began sketching a distorted face with huge eyes.  Ten minutes later, she had just finished the myriad highlights in his eyes and was beginning on something that was meant to resemble his hair, when Miko trotted over to him, proudly holding out her drawing.  Kanae intercepted it.
        "What IS this?!  It looks like a dog!"  She collapsed on the floor laughing.  Sanae peered at it.
        "It does!  What's with all these tails, Miko, is this supposed to be Shuu-san wagging his tail?"  Kanae clutched at her stomach and laughed some more at this.  Miko frowned.
        "Miko-chan, let me see it," suggested Kurama consolingly, reaching out for it.
        "Ah!  Don't move!" begged Sanae, returning to her artwork.
        He examined the drawing Miko held out to him.  The scribbled lines of gray crayon unmistakably depicted his Youko self in his fox form.  She even had the yellow eyes right.
        "Is this really what you see when you look at me?" he asked her, a little alarmed.
        "Mmm...when I go like this."  She squeezed her eyes shut.
        "Ah.  Miko-chan, can I have this?" he asked.
        "Sure!"
        "Hey, Shuu-san, want to see some picture albums?" asked Sanae, wadding up what finally even she had realized was a terrible likeness and throwing the paper in the trash.  "There's some funny pictures of Shuu-chan."
        "Yes, I'd like to see them."
        She dragged out some bulging albums.  A number of loose photos fell out when she opened the cover, and she stuffed them back in.  Kanae came over to look, too.
        "Gave up on your little portrait, hmm?" she asked.
        "The light was bad."
        "Yeah, right."
        "Look, here's Shuu-chan when he was three!"  He was prancing around naked on the front porch.  They had several more incriminating photos for Kurama to look at.
        "What are you doing?" asked Shuuichi, suddenly behind them.
        "Waa!" Sanae and Kanae jumped, and slammed the album shut.
        "Here, Shuuichi-san, I'll show you some interesting pictures," he said, and grabbing the album away, began flipping through the pages.  Then he turned the pages slower and slower, and his face lost its characteristic happy grin.  He found the photo he had been searching for and lay the book down on the kotatsu, then left the room without comment.
        "That was weird," commented Kanae.  They looked at the picture.
        "Ah, remember that?" laughed Sanae.  It was a snapshot from a class play, in first grade.  Sanae was dressed up as an eggplant, and Kanae as a green pepper.  Kurama laughed.
        "Here, I'll get another photo album," offered Sanae, but Kurama got up.
        "No, I'll look later, alright?"
        He put his book away and went off to find Shuuichi.
        Shiori was in the kitchen with Obaasan, obediently copying down recipes as the old woman dictated them.  Obasan was bustling over dinner preparations and talking on a cordless phone at the same time.
        "Kaasan, have you seen Shuuichi-kun?"  he interjected quickly, when Obaasan paused to puzzle over a forgotten ingredient.
        "No.  Is something wrong?"
        "I don't know.  He was acting strangely just now."

December 29th, 5:00 p.m.
        Ojiisan wandered into the TV room where the two older girls and Kurama were playing a card game and eating seaweed-flavored potato chips.
        "Ojiisan," said Kurama, standing up.  "Can I get you something?"
        "Look at his cards!" whispered Sanae.
        "No, you look!" whispered Kanae.
        "What's all this?  What's all this?  Who said you could eat that?" the old man demanded.
        Sanae and Kanae shot each other 'here he goes again' looks.
        "Don't you know food is scarce?  You eat this now and the whole family goes hungry tomorrow!"
        "Ojiisan, there's plenty of food," Sanae reasoned with him.
        "Think of the men at the front!" he yelled.
        "I'll put this back in the kitchen," offered Kurama quickly.  "We can all share it later."
        "Damn right, you will," mumbled Ojiisan, already calming down.  "HE understands what's going on.  You talk to him!"  With this injunction to the girls, the old man took himself off.
        Obasan hurried in to find out what the commotion was about.
        "Oh, Kaasan, that was so embarrassing!  Now Shuu-san probably thinks insanity runs in our family," wailed Sanae.
        "What happened, dear?"
        "Ojiisan tried to take away our potato chips again."
        Obasan sighed.
        "Well, just try to humor him once in a while, would you?  It wouldn't hurt you to take a break from stuffing your faces anyway."
        Sanae poked Kanae meaningfully.
        "Shuuichi-kun," she continued, "I hope you weren't too disturbed by that.  I'm sorry, but Ojiisan is a little stuck in the past.  Really, don't feel bad if he yells at you."
        "He yells at everyone, except Miko," put in Kanae.
        "I don't mind," smiled Kurama reassuringly.  "He must have a lot of memories to deal with.  Shall we finish our card game?"
        He had been planning to let one of them win, but since they had gone and peeked at his cards, he did not feel guilty about beating them decisively.

December 29th, 7:15 p.m.
        Two low tables were pushed together for dinner so the whole family could fit.  They sat on cushions on the floor.  The food was good, and plentiful.   The grownups were making pleasant conversation, and Sanae and Kanae were having a lively discussion about an whether a certain anime character resembled a certain other anime character, and in what way, and whether or how this affected the degree of coolness of either one.  Shuuichi was staring down at his bowls and poking idly at their contents with his chopsticks.  Kurama caught Shiori's eye, and looked over at his brother.  She followed  his gaze.  A tear trickled down Shuuichi's cheek.  He quickly and surreptitiously wiped it away and poked at his food some more.  Shiori and Kurama looked at each other in concern.  Suddenly the boy stood up and fled the room.  Everyone else looked up, seemed to assume he had just gone to the bathroom or something, and returned to their conversations.
        Kurama and Shiori both started to get up.
        "I'll go," mouthed Shiori silently.
        He shook his head.
        "I'll go."  He thought he knew what was wrong.
        "Excuse me," he said out loud, and went after his brother.

        Shuuichi was sitting on the back porch with his arms around his knees and his head buried in his arms.  When Kurama sat down next to him, he only looked up long enough to see who it was.
        "Shuuichi-kun, are you alright?"
        He nodded without lifting his head.  Kurama put a hand on the boy's shoulder.
        "You've been upset since you looked at that photo album."
        No response from Shuuichi.
        "You come here every year, don't you?"
        "...Except last year...  I don't know why we always come here!  I hate it!"  He kicked at a large potted tree, which barely trembled under this assault.
        "New Year's is a time for families to be together."
        Again no response.  Shuuichi just hugged his knees tighter.
        "I saw your mother's picture in the photo album.  She was very pretty."
        Silence from Shuuichi.
        "Is this the first time you've been here for the holidays without her?"
        After a pause, Shuuichi nodded.
        "Shuuichi-kun...no human being is replaceable.  But Kaasan and I care about you very much."  Kurama put his arm around his little brother.
        Shuuichi looked up a little, and sniffled.  He was about to wipe his nose on his sleeve when Kurama produced a handkerchief.  He blew his nose loudly.
        "Shuuichi Oniisan..."
        "Why don't you wash your face and come eat.  Sanae-san and Kanae-san are probably dividing up your food already."
        "They can have it.  I'm not hungry."
        "Go lie down then.  You'll feel better in a while."
        "I don't want to feel better."
        "No, but you will anyway.  Probably.  It's not in your character to be sad for long."
        "...Everyone will wonder why I ran off..."
        "I'll tell them you have a headache from watching all that TV last night and you went to take a nap."
        "But...but that's not true!"  Shuuichi thought of Kurama as a model son, and though he didn't aspire to emulate him, he hated for Kurama to tarnish his flawless image on his account.
        "Doesn't matter.  You're my brother.  I'll cover for you," Kurama assured him with a smile.

December 29th, 11:30 p.m.
        As he was drifting off to sleep, he caught the faint impression of Hiei's presence.  Not nearby, but not too far, either.  He smiled to himself to think that Hiei had followed him here, and was probably even now watching him.  Kurama hadn't had time to think of him much, what with all the bustle, and the new relatives and all, but now that the house was wrapped in darkness and quiet, he felt a longing to see Hiei and be alone with him.  Hiei...  So delicate-looking, for all his strength, with his dark eyes and his mouth full of casual insults.  So much complexity contained in that small body.  Such a pure-hearted liar.  Such a strange combination of fire and ice...  Kurama fell asleep, happy.

December 30th, 4:00 a.m.
        It was early morning and Kurama woke briefly at the sound of a rooster crowing.  The sky was not even faintly turning to dawn.  He felt Hiei's presence again, at a distance, like fire behind glass so you knew it was there, but could barely feel the heat.  'Come closer,' he urged mentally, as if Hiei could hear him.  He wanted to break the glass, and thrust his hands into the fire.  He pulled the thick top futon tighter around himself, but it was the wrong kind of warm.

December 30th, 9:30 a.m.
        "Shuu-chan, you are so disgusting!" Sanae complained as her younger cousin stood over the kitchen sink drinking milk out of the carton.  He drank some more, as provokingly as possible.
        "I guess it's a guy thing," she sighed.  "Ojiisan drinks right out of the carton, too."
        Shuuichi suddenly spit milk into the sink.
        "Ojiisan drinks out of the carton?!" he asked, horrified.  He began rinsing out his mouth with water.  "Excuse me, I'm gonna go brush my teeth."
        "What's wrong with you?" asked Sanae innocently.
        "Ooh, I feel like I just kissed Ojiisan..."  He hurried off looking queasy.
        "Ojiisan doesn't really drink out of the carton, does he?" asked Kanae, rummaging for cookies.
        "Of course not.  He doesn't even drink milk."
        "...I think it's cute for guys to drink milk out of the carton," said Kanae tentatively.

December 30th, 11:30 a.m.
        Kurama, Shuuichi, and the "twins" were sitting under the kotatsu peeling and eating oranges.  Shuuichi showed how he could fit two oranges in his mouth at a time.  The TV was broadcasting yet another year-end karaoke special.
        "And now, everyone at home feel free to sing along as the spectacular rising stars Red Dream perform their big hit, "After School Crimes!" enthused the announcer.
        "Kyaaaa!  Who's that?!" exclaimed Sanae.
        Kanae turned her attention away from poking at Shuuichi's bulging cheeks.  She gasped in awe.
        In unison, they breathed:  "Nine point three."
        "Ah, I've been surpassed already," remarked Kurama.
        "What did you get, nine point two?" asked Shuuichi, evidently quite familiar with the girls' scoring system.
        "Yeah.  Do you have a rating?"
        "I got some insulting number like two point six."
        "Two point four," Sanae corrected him without taking her eyes from the TV.  They were spellbound until the end of the song.  Then the station went to a commercial break, and they turned readily back to eating oranges.
        "How come your school lets you wear your hair long like that?" Sanae asked Kurama, gently stroking the hair that fell in front of his ear with one finger.
        "Get your sticky hands off my brother," ordered Shuuichi.  He had to keep these girls in line.  Shuuichi-san was just too polite to defend himself.
        "It's a private school," Kurama shrugged.  "They're not very strict about things like that."
        "Because you're paying so much?" asked Kanae.
        "Really, it's because he's the smartest one in his class, so they let him do anything he wants," said Shuuichi.  "He could go to school wearing nothing but your mom's ratty old bathrobe, and they probably wouldn't say anything."
        "Kyaaa!" squealed Sanae and Kanae as they pictured this in their minds.
        "Ah, that's not exactly true..." protested Kurama.
        "Are you really that smart?  Hey, can you help me with my homework?  I've got a mountain of it, and it's impossible!" begged Sanae.
        "He's already done his vacation homework, can you believe it?" commented Shuuichi.
        "No way!"
        "Yeah, he did it all in one day!"
        "Well, we all do ours in one day," put in Kanae thoughtfully.  "It's just always the last day."
        "True," agreed Shuuichi.
        "And summer vacation you tried to get me to do half of it for you," accused Kurama.
        Shuuichi shrugged unconcernedly.
        "It's a time-honored tradition to have other people in your family do your vacation homework for you the night before it's due.  The teachers know everyone does it.  They make up for it by giving more homework than anyone could possibly do by themselves."
        "I always did mine by myself," protested Kurama.  Everyone laughed at this naive behavior.
        "Well, I'll set a good example for my academically hopeless little cousin here by starting in on my math right now, if Shuu-san will help me," said Sanae smugly, going off to get her books.  She came back and spread her math homework out on the kotatsu.
        "Can't you children watch TV somewhere else?  I'm trying to study!" she complained.  Shuuichi and Kanae exchanged knowing looks and went outside to kick a soccer ball around.
        "Oh, Shuu-san," she wailed after a minute.  "This is too hard!  Explain it to me!"
        He explained it.  She stared at it for another few minutes and then flopped over backwards.
        "It's still too hard!  I wish I was smart like you!  Can't you do the first one for me?"
        "Sanae-san," said Kurama, "I'm the kind of guy who doesn't like girls pretending to be stupid and helpless."
        She opened her mouth and then, undecided as how to react to this statement, shut it again.
        "So why don't you sit up," he continued, "and do all of these problems, and when you're done I'll check them for you."
        He sat beside her, reading a novel while she worked.  Presently her mother stopped by and looked in.
        "Kana-chan said you were doing your homework, and I just couldn't believe it, so I came to check.  You really are, aren't you?  Oh, listen, before I forget, tonight could you remind me to call Ogawa-san about the committee meeting cancellation?  Can you believe they canceled it for the second time in-"
        "Okaasan!  I'm trying to study, okay?"
        "Alright, fine, I don't want to disturb you, dear.  Well, I'll just go, then.  I guess I'm not needed here; you've got Shuuichi-kun-"
        "Okaasan!"
        Her mother took herself off, still talking as she went down the hall.  Her voice faded away.  Sanae sighed and picked up her pencil again.  When Kurama checked the problems half an hour later, they were all correct.

December 30th, 9:45 p.m.
        "Kana-chan!" called Shuuichi, bounding down the stairs wearing a huge towel like a cape.
        "Hmm?"
        "Wanna take a bath?  No one else is in there now."
        "A bath?  Um, sure.  Hang on, I'll get my towel."  She went off in search of a towel.
        "Taking a bath together?  Aren't you a little old for that?" asked Sanae.
        Or a little young for it, thought Kurama.
        "We've always taken baths together," shrugged Shuuichi.  "You just want to take baths alone so no one will see your hideous physical deformities."  He nodded at Kurama as if full of secret knowledge.
        "What?!  Shuu-chan, you are such a liar."
        "She has webbed toes," he told Kurama confidentially.  "And a huge red birthmark on her rear end that makes her look like a baboon."
        Sanae took after him with a tasseled cushion, and he fled.

December 29th, 10:30 p.m.
        Shuuichi and Kanae came running down the stairs wearing pajamas.  Kanae also sported a towel on her head and huge furry slippers.  Obaasan had laid out the futons.  They immediately began whacking each other with pillows.
        "THAT'S for trying to drown me," announced Shuuichi, knocking the towel off her head with his swing.
        "THAT'S for spitting water at me," retorted Kanae, hitting him in the chest.  He staggered, but regained his balance.
        "THAT'S for dumping cold water over my head!"  She ducked, and he missed completely.
        "THAT'S for getting shampoo in my eye!"  She connected with his stomach.  He lost his footing in the billowy futons and went down.
        "Aa, that was an accident!  THAT'S for dropping my pajama bottoms in the water ON PURPOSE!"  He tripped her.  She squeaked and protected her head as he beat her mercilessly with his pillow.  Obaasan came shuffling in placidly, carrying bottles of orange soda and empty cups on a tray.

December 30th, 10:45 p.m.
        Ojisan had gone off to play mah-johng at a friend's house.  Otousan had taken Shiori to meet the neighbors.  Sanae had popped over to a friend's house while Shuuichi and Kanae were in the bath, and had managed to borrow a Nintendo for the evening.   She, Kanae, and Shuuichi were absorbed in playing.  Kurama joined them for awhile, but Obasan called him away.
        "It's Ojiisan," she explained.  "He'd like it if you went up to his room for awhile.  Miko's up there, too."
        "Okay, sure," replied Kurama, surprised.
        "He probably just wants to tell his crazy war stories.  Sorry.  You don't have to stay very long, but just humor him a little, okay?"
        It was already almost eleven.  Surely the man couldn't require his company for too long?  Well, with family came obligations...  He went upstairs and knocked.
        "Oh, it's you," said the old man gruffly.  "Well, come in.  We're waiting."
        Miko smiled encouragingly at Kurama and trotted to the closet.  She pulled out a cushion, and put it down for him next to hers and across from Ojiisan's.
        "Excuse my intrusion," said Kurama with a slight bow.  He took his seat.
        "Hmph.  You in the army?"
        "Ah, no, sir.  I'm still in school."
        "Too young, hm?  Well, they'll make you cut that hair when you join up."
        "Yes, sir, I expect so."
        "Miko, warm up some sake.  Put it in that...thing."
        "The microwave?"
        "Yeah, and bring something to eat, too."
        "I'll help," offered Kurama, standing up.
        "That's a girl's job.  You claimed to be a guy."  Ojiisan looked at him suspiciously.  Kurama feared this was going to be a long evening.
        "It's okay, Oniisan.  I do this all the time," Miko smiled, and then went out.  Kurama could hear her feet tripping lightly down the stairs.
        "A man's job," continued Ojiisan, pinning Kurama with his stare, "is to protect his family and his country.  The enemy is everywhere.  That's why I have traps out on the verandah."
        Kurama glanced out the window and made a mental note never to go out on the verandah.
        "And I have this sword," he continued proudly, gesturing at a sword in an elegant sheath, propped on a display rack.  Kurama went over to look at it.
        "Don't touch it!" the man practically shrieked.
        "Ah, no, of course not.  I was just admiring the workmanship."
        "Yeah?  What do you think of it?" asked the old man, calming down quickly.
        "The hilt is beautiful.  It looks really old.  The sheath is quite nice, too, but obviously more recently made."
        "Hmph.  So you're not as ignorant as you look," nodded the man with some satisfaction.  He hobbled over to the sword, took hold of the hilt and the sheath, and pulled the blade a couple of inches out.
        "Now what do you think?"
        Kurama  knelt down to examine it more closely.
        "Don't touch it!" repeated the man in alarm.
        "I won't touch it," Kurama assured him.
        There was something strange about this sword, or the blade at least.  He felt as if it were trying to pull him towards it.  No, surely that was just his imagination.  The metal was in good condition, and lovingly polished, but ancient.  This thing must be worth a lot of money, he thought.  He found it difficult to look away.  It WAS trying to pull him in!  He couldn't tell from the appearance of the blade, but now that he thought about it, the hilt looked definitely Makai-made.
        "The blade is even older than the hilt," Kurama observed.  "And I don't think it was made around here."
        "What do you mean 'around here'?" demanded the old man, leaning forward.
        "Locally," hedged Kurama.
        "Locally?"
        "Um, I would guess it's foreign," admitted Kurama.  How much did Ojiisan know about the sword?  He wanted to ask, but had the strong feeling that it was not his place to ask questions.
        Ojiisan hobbled back to his cushion.
        "Well, just don't ever touch it," he warned.
        Kurama tried not to sigh.  He heard footsteps, and went to hold the sliding door open for Miko, who came in carefully, bearing a heavy tray.  She put it down with great concentration in front of her grandfather, and then sat down with a happy smile.
        "Tell us a story, Ojiisan!" she requested.
        "Well.  ...There we were, surrounded.  I had my sword out, ready for them.  Hm, I'd better get it.  I can't tell the story with my sword way over there."  He struggled to get up.
        "Miko will bring it," volunteered the girl.
        "What have I told you again and again about touching it?!" demanded Ojiisan.
        She sighed, and in a small voice said, "Never, never, never touch it."  "Wouldn't it be better to leave it there?" asked Kurama.  He could just picture Ojiisan cutting his own foot off or something.
        "No!  You don't know anything about it!  Miko!  Pour the drinks."  He got to his feet and shuffled over to the sword.  He picked it up lovingly, and with surprising ease considering how weak he looked.
        Miko poured the hot sake into three little cups.
        "You don't really drink this stuff, do you?" Kurama asked Miko in an undertone.
        "Sure.  Just a little."
        No wonder everyone thinks she's weird, thought Kurama.  She's killed half her brain cells.  He weighed his obligations.  Bust Ojiisan and Miko and face the old man's displeasure for the rest of the vacation?  Become an accomplice?  What if Obasan caught them -- would she think Shiori was a bad mother?
        "Shouldn't you wait until you're older?" he urged.
        "When I'm older, Ojiisan won't be here anymore," she informed him sorrowfully.
        Well, that was true enough.  Ojiisan carried the sword over and laid it down on the tatami in front of him.  He pulled it out of its sheath a few inches.
        "So, there we were," he continued.  "I shot at a couple in front of me, but they were behind us, too!  And it was hard to see, what with all the damn smoke..."  He stopped to drain his little cup.  Kurama sipped at his lest Ojiisan yell at him some more.  Miko blew on hers to cool it.  When the old man emptied his cup, she quickly refilled it.
        "They were inhuman, I tell you," he continued in a hushed tone.  "Monsters.  Claws like this!  Teeth like this!"
        Kurama wondered why Miko enjoyed listening to these stories.  He put his cup down, and Miko refilled it.  Ojiisan's hands trailed lovingly over the sword.  He lightly touched the blade once or twice as he spoke.
        "They came at me in two waves.  One from that way, and one from behind."
        Kurama noted that 'we' had become 'I' and wondered what this meant.
        "I tried to run to better ground, to be in a better position when they came close enough to attack, but the ground was soft and my feet sunk in when I tried to run."
        "Get to the part where you win, Ojiisan," begged Miko, looking a little distraught.
        But he talked on and on, without much direction to his story.  The longer he talked, the more improbable the story became.  Miko was sent downstairs several times to warm up more sake.  Kurama decided he'd better not drink any more.  He wasn't sure exactly how much alcohol this human body could handle, and now was not a good time to find out.  He ate some of the little crackers Miko had brought, instead.  But Ojiisan caught on to this quickly and demanded pretty clearly that Kurama was here to drink with him and listen to his stories, not fidget, whisper to Miko, and munch snacks.  Kurama determined to attempt an escape as soon as possible.  Surely the man's story would end soon?  He had already racked up a huge number of kills, and narrowly avoided death several times, each in more unlikely circumstances than the one before.
        Well, Kurama didn't feel any effect from the sake yet.  His body was always quick to recover from injuries and poisons.  Presumably it could simply neutralize the alcohol.  Theoretically.  He sipped cautiously at the sake again, under Ojiisan's glare.  He hoped sincerely that the old man would not feel inclined to tell anyone about this.  Then again, it was probably a secret.  Surely Miko's parents didn't know he was serving drinks to a five year old.  The little girl was beginning to look drowsy.

        Two hours crawled by.  Kurama knelt patiently on his cushion and listened respectfully to the old man's story.  There were an alarming number of empty bottles accumulating against the wall.  Miko had long since toddled off to bed, so Kurama was left with the task of heating up and pouring the drinks.  Luckily, no one was around.  They must be asleep, or still out visiting somewhere.  He was feeling definitely buzzed, but everything was still under control, he assured himself.  For the past hour he had been trying to figure out just what war Ojiisan was babbling about.  After the first few minutes he had stopped referring to guns completely.  Whatever campaign it was, he was fighting it with only a sword.  Sometimes it was on a plain, sometimes in a swamp, and now and then it would be taking place in a forest.  He was always alone, and his enemies were always demonic ghostly creatures.  Kurama's head spun with the effort of following the narrative.  He watched the man's hands dance over the sword, just barely touching the blade as he went on and on.  It must be the sword, Kurama thought a little fuzzily.  Is it giving him illusions?  Distorting his memories?  He would have to check it out tomorrow, when the old man was not looking.  If Ojiisan could touch it, surely it wouldn't hurt Kurama to touch it, despite the man's practically hysterical warnings.
        Finally, Ojiisan clambered to his feet, replaced the sword in its rack, and climbed unceremoniously into his futon.  Kurama blinked.  The story hadn't seemed to come to any sort of a resolution.  Was he finally free to go?
        "Ah...Good night, Ojiisan,"
        "Yeah.  Wash Miko's cup," he ordered.
        So the man WAS practicing deception...  Kurama took his own cup as well and made his way carefully down the stairs.  For some reason, it was difficult to find the kitchen.  There was a closet full of towels where he expected it to be.  But he found it,  washed out the cups, and put them away on the shelf with no incident.

December 31st, 1:30 a.m.
        Kurama entered his bedroom, cautiously, since his balance seemed more than a little off.  He fumbled around for his pajamas, found them, and went down the hall to brush his teeth and wash his face.  That done, he turned off the light, and then switched it on again and turned off the water, and finally turned off the light again.  He had a sinking feeling that he had just used someone else's toothbrush, and decided he'd rather not check to find out whose.  He had intended to put on his pajamas, but it didn't occur to him at the moment.  He tucked them under one arm and left the bathroom.
        Kurama thought he was going to bed, but he was suddenly outside.  In his current state of mind, he felt no surprise at finding himself in a new location.  The cold air felt good on his face.  The moon was only half full, but large on the horizon, just coming up.  He headed into the bamboo grove behind the house and walked unsteadily among the trees, their leaves slipping through his fingers and brushing his face.  He liked to be in contact with green things, although the impressions he was getting from them now were not as coherent as usual.  Kurama's feet felt cold, and he realized that he was standing outside in his socks, something he couldn't remember ever having done in his whole life.  No, that wasn't true.  He had used to run around barefoot.  No...  He shook his head, which made him dizzy for a moment.  No, many centuries ago, as a small child in a different body and a different world than this, he had gone barefoot.  But never had he gone outside in socks.  Having determined this, he felt pleased that his mental faculties were working so well.  Especially since physically he seemed to be getting worse.  Things started to look funny, blurring and sliding apart.  Kurama tripped and fell onto his hands and knees.  He was surprised at the jarring impact.  The world was really spinning now.
        "What the hell is wrong with you?" demanded a familiar voice.
        He looked up and saw two Hieis looking down at him.  They dragged him to his feet.  Kurama tried closing one eye.  Now there was only one Hiei.  Good.  He was still in control.  He could solve his problems.
        "I don't feel so good," he said, looking at Hiei as if he could remedy the problem.
        "You're drunk," stated Hiei, seeming a bit taken aback.
        "You certainly have impressive powers of observation," Kurama commented, and was so enamored of this line that repeated it again.
        "Well, snap out of it, then," said Hiei in an annoyed tone.
        "What do you mean, snap out of it?"
        "Why can't your body deal with this?"
        "I don't know," he moaned.
        "Change into Youko Kurama," suggested Hiei.
        Kurama made the transformation.  Suddenly he was a tall, beautiful man with long silvery hair.  His yellow eyes gleamed in the moonlight.
        "Hiei--what are you doing here?" demanded Youko Kurama.
        "I've BEEN here, idiot."
        Kurama flung himself on Hiei and knocked him to the ground.
        "Hiei...Hiei..."  He tried inaccurately to kiss him on the mouth.
        Hiei slapped him across the face.  Then he gulped a little nervously.  People didn't slap out-of-control Youkos.  This wasn't working, anyway.  His Youko body wasn't doing any better a job of processing the alcohol.
        Kurama looked angry for a moment.  Then:  "Hey!  What are pajamas doing here?"  He gazed in surprise at these articles of clothing lying on the ground.  Kurama picked them up and dusted them off.  He held them up against himself experimentally.
        "Too small."
        Then he held them up against Hiei.
        "Are these yours?" he asked him seriously.
        "Change back!" ordered Hiei.
        "Say please," Kurama suggested sweetly in a tone probably never used by a Youko before.
        Hiei scowled and raised his hand to smack him again.
        "Okay, okay!"  Kurama changed back to his Shuuichi body.  In the distance, in what seemed some other reality entirely, a car door slammed and voices made pleasant and indistinct conversation.  Shiori and her husband.  He had been showing her off to some friends, and now they were returning.  Kurama froze.
        "Hide me!" he commanded in alarm.  "Stand in front of me!  Here, hold on to these!"  He thrust the pajamas at Hiei.
        "How can you stand this life?" demanded Hiei suddenly, throwing the pajamas on the ground.
        "I don't like it much at the moment..."  He put a hand to his head unsteadily.
        "You were--you ARE--a powerful youkai.  And you're cowering from a harmless human.  Aren't you ashamed to live like this?"
        "Um, can we have this conversation later?  I'm sure I have some brilliant arguments to make, but I can't remember what they are just now."
        "You are really fucked up."
        "Hiei, when I look at you, you have three eyes, but you really do!"  Kurama thought this was funny.
        "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
        "Because, see, you have two noses but you don't really," he explained, "but here are your eyes, here, and here, and HERE."  He poked at them for emphasis.
        "Ow.  Stop it."
        "Ah!  What happened to my parents?"
        "They went inside a long time ago."
        Kurama considered this, and after a long while, seemed relieved.  Then he closed his eyes and moaned.
        "I don't want to be here anymore..."
        "Here?" asked Hiei hopefully, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the farmhouse.
        "Here, inside my head," specified Kurama.  Now everything was spinning downwards.  He felt like a hamster in an exercise wheel.
        "I feel sick," he said.
        "Throw up, then," suggested Hiei practically.
        "Not that sick."
        Hiei took hold of Kurama's arms, just below his shoulders.
        "What are you doing...?"  If Hiei was going to take advantage of him in his helpless condition, he was unfortunately too disoriented to enjoy it.
        Hiei commenced shaking him violently.  Kurama's head flopped back and forth like a rag doll's.  When Hiei released him, he fell down on his hands and knees and threw up.
        "Feel better?" asked Hiei.
        "You'd make a great nurse," he complained sarcastically.  But he did feel better.
        "Water.  I want water," stated Kurama.
        "There's a stream over there."
        He started walking briskly in the direction indicated by Hiei, then abruptly took a left turn and crashed into a tree.
        "Pathetic," commented Hiei.
        "My socks are wet.  And cold.  Cold and wet.  Carry me," demanded Kurama.  He flung his arms around Hiei's neck.
        Hiei sighed and picked him up.
        "You're not going to throw up again, are you?" he asked suspiciously.  Kurama shook his head innocently.  With another sigh, Hiei moved towards the sound of burbling water and dumped Kurama on the bank.
        "Water..." he mumbled.
        Hiei contemplated tossing him in the stream, but figured he might do something stupid like drown.  Scowling, he went and scooped up water in his hands.
        "Sit up, idiot."
        Kurama sat up and took Hiei's hands carefully in his own.  He drank happily.  The water tasted wonderful, clean and cool.  And Hiei was being unaccountably nice.  It hadn't occurred to him to wonder about this before.
        "Hiei, why are you still here?"
        "Damn if I know," he muttered.  He was hoping Kurama wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.
        "I feel better now."
        "Hn."
        Kurama got up and walked the few steps to the stream without any mishaps.  He scooped up several handfuls of water and drank them.  He came back.
        "Hiei, lie down."
        "Now what," grumbled Hiei, prepared to tolerate Kurama for about another minute and a half.  But there was something nice about this...  For once, Kurama wasn't thinking about his damn family at all.  Even when it was just the two of them, it never was just the two of them.  And now it was.  I'm the pathetic one here, sighed Hiei to himself.  Kurama pushed him down and knelt beside him.  He suddenly had handfuls of black rose petals, and dark blood-red, almost black ones, which he sprinkled on Hiei with amusement.  He pulled off the white cloth Hiei wore around his neck and threw it aside.
        "Ku-Kurama, stop it!  What do you think you're doing?"
        "I'm making a pillow out of you," laughed Kurama, stuffing handfuls of petals down the front of Hiei's tunic.
        "Stop that!"
        "But I'm sleepy!"  Kurama found he could barely keep his eyes open.  He lay his head down on Hiei's chest and made snuggly sounds.  Then he was still.
        "Kurama!"  He grabbed his hair and shook his head gently.  "I think you should go inside."
        There was no response.
        "...Kurama?"
        Hiei looked down at him for a long time.  He was really out.  Hiei's fingers softly brushed the hair out of Kurama's face.  He sat up against a tree and pulled Kurama up so his head rested against Hiei's chest.  There were some scratches on his cheek, and on his chin, probably from walking into the tree.  Hiei traced them with his thumb.   He looked around to make sure there were no observers, as if anyone could sneak up on him without his knowing, and touched his face to Kurama's.  For awhile he didn't move, content merely to feel the warmth of Kurama's skin against his own.  Then he kissed his cheek gently.  The scratch marks bothered him, but he could feel them slowly fading away.  Finally they disappeared entirely and Kurama's face was perfect again.  Perfect...  Hiei lifted his head and gazed down at Kurama, limp in his arms.  The moonlight shone on his red hair, and his face looked pale in the darkness.  He breathed gently in and out with a contented look on his face.  Hiei had never seen anything so beautiful as Kurama.  But then, there had been so few beautiful things in his life, so how could he judge?  He turned his attention to Kurama's collar.  The first button was undone.  He unfastened the next one, and the next.  After a moment of hesitation, he slid the shirt back off one shoulder.  If only Kurama was regularly unconscious, he thought, how much easier it would be.  Hiei wrapped his arms protectively around him and buried his face against his bare shoulder.  If you wake up, I'll kill you, he thought.

December 31st, 2:30 a.m.
        "Sana-chan," whispered Kanae.
        "Mnmph?"
        "What's Shuu-san doing here?"
        "Huh?"  She was awake now.  She sat up in her futon and peered over Kanae.
        "Do you think he sleep-walks?"
        They both gazed at him for a long time.  Then they crept over to examine him more closely.  He lay half on top of Kanae's futon, and half on top of Miko's.  His pajama top was buttoned starting with the first button in the second buttonhole, and continued this pattern all the way down.  His pajama bottoms were on backwards.  The girls looked at him in puzzlement, and then shrugged.
        "Let's braid his hair," suggested Sanae, and Kanae readily agreed.

December 31st, 9:30 a.m.
        Kurama woke up, fully expecting to feel terrible.  He didn't.  Good, then.  His body had finally dealt with the alcohol.  He did feel really thirsty, however.  And the ceiling looked wrong.  He realized in alarm that he had been sleeping in the girls' room.  No one seemed to be here at the moment, though.  He must have slept pretty late.  Kurama stood up.  He felt groggy, but that was his usual morning condition.  He crossed the hall to the room he shared with Shuuichi.  His brother was rather haphazardly folding up the futons.
        "Shuuichi-san!  What happened to your hair?"  Shuuichi clapped his hands over his mouth in an attempt not to laugh.
        For a moment, Kurama imagined in horror that Ojiisan had chopped his hair off last night.  Come to think of it, there was something strange about how it felt.  He stood in front of the dresser mirror and gazed at himself expressionlessly.  His hair was in two neat braids, each tied at the end with a pink ribbon.  For a split second, he allowed himself to imagine that Hiei had done this.  No, of course not.
        "...Those cousins of yours," he muttered.
        "They're YOUR cousins, too," Shuuichi reminded him with a grin.
        Kurama yanked the ribbons out and unbraided his hair.  There was a funny wave to it now.  Damn.
        "Shuuichi-kun, do you know what Ojiisan did during the war?" asked Kurama, brushing his hair violently.
        "Um...  I think he just fixed jeeps or something.  Why?  Was he telling you ridiculous stories last night?   Everyone knows those aren't true.  No one will listen to 'em except Miko.  We just sneak away when he starts talking.  And once he's started he goes on and on."
        "You should be a little more respectful to your grandfather," admonished Kurama.  Damn, his hair still wouldn't fall straight.  Those girls had sprayed it with something.  "I'm going to take a shower."
        "Okay," said Shuuichi meekly.  His brother was not quite as polite and perfect as usual when he had just woken up.  He had taken the ribbons in his hair pretty well, considering.  Shuuichi wondered if the girls had taken snapshots.  When Kurama was safely gone, Shuuichi burst into laughter.  Those girls had some nerve!  He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, and then flopped, helpless and exhausted, on the futons.

December 31st, 10:30 a.m.
        "Ah, Shuuichi-kun," beckoned Obasan, putting someone on hold on her cordless phone.
        "Good morning, Obasan.  Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep so late.  I hope I didn't inconvenience anyone."
        "Heavens, no.  Shuu-chan and Kana-chan ate your breakfast, so it didn't go to waste.  Anyway, you're our guest, and you're on vacation, so relax!  Sleep as late as you want.  I bet Ojiisan kept you up late with his tales of carnage..." she sighed.
        "It was no trouble," lied Kurama.
        "Poor man, no one else will listen to him.  I'd sit down with him more, but I don't have the time!   Shopping to do, and errands to run -- actually, I'm just about to drive him to the nursing home so he can visit some friends.  Anyway, thank you so much for putting up with him!"  She smiled and hurried off, going back to her phone conversation as she mounted the stairs.
        Kurama waited, and saw her bundle the old man into the car.  He made sure they left.  Then he noiselessly ascended the stairs and slid open the door of Ojiisan's room.  There was the sword, on its rack.  The bottles and snack remains had all been cleared away.  Kurama slid the door shut.  He'd better be quick.  Anyone might come looking for him at any moment.
        He touched the sword hilt, and nothing happened.  When he touched the sheath, still nothing.  It had to be the blade, then.  He recalled Ojiisan's fingers just barely touching it and immediately dancing away.  Kurama slid the sword out a tiny bit.  The metal gleamed invitingly.  He laid one finger on its shiny surface.
        The familiar room faded away, and he was kneeling not on tatami, but on cold, uneven ground.  The grass had been churned up into mud by countless hooves, and frozen that way.  The only thing he could still see clearly from his own reality was the sword.  He started to stand up, but realized that it would be a mistake to let go of the sword.  He might not be able to get back if it disappeared along with the rest of the room.  Although, now that he looked carefully, the room was still faintly there.  He reached out to the wall behind the sword.  His hand passed through it with the slightest of resistance.  But the sword was urging him to come inside.  The invitation became more imperative.  A bit alarmed, Kurama focused on the reality of Ojiisan's bedroom, and flung himself back into it.  Then, curious, he touched a different part of the blade.  Yes, here was the forest Ojiisan had described.  But no pitched battles were taking place there at the moment.  It was as completely silent and dead as the scene he had last entered.  Even only half in their reality, he could tell that the trees were dead.  Or perhaps unliving was a better term, for they may never have been alive.  Interesting.  And seductive...  Think rationally, he told himself firmly.  Why would you want to be in this place?  It's trying to draw you in.  He experimentally picked up some dry leaves off the forest floor and jerked himself out of that world a second time.  Then, alerted by footsteps on the stairs, he slipped out of the room.  He hadn't been sure the leaves would come with him, but they had.  He would examine them later, when he was alone.  It would be rude to make himself scarce for too long at a stretch.  Not to mention that people would start wondering what he was up to.
 
December 31st, 12:00 noon
        "Oniichan, oniichan!  Ojiisan killed an elf!" screamed Miko.
        Kurama ran into the man's room.  Hiei lay crumpled on the floor.  Ojiisan was standing over him with the sword.
        "Stand back, I'll finish him!  No prisoners!" promised the old man, sword wavering in his weak hands.
        "Stop, Ojiisan, new orders!" interjected Kurama.  "Prisoners are wanted for questioning.  Here, I'll take him.  Please put the sword down."
        He picked up Hiei easily in both arms and carried him into the next room, which appeared to be a little-used storage room.  He examined him quickly for injuries.  There didn't seem to be any.  Hiei began to move even as Kurama stared down at him, puzzled.  He left Hiei there and went back to check on Ojiisan.  The old man was resting against the wall.  Miko was arranging the cushions for him.
        "Miko, what happened?" asked Kurama.
        "The elf came onto the verandah, and, and he got his foot caught in all those traps Ojiisan has to catch the enemies and Ojiisan thought he was a enemy and killed him!"  She started to cry.
        "Don't worry, he's not dead.  But where did he come from?"
        "Umm...I guess he fell out of Santa's sleigh?"
        "Miko, what makes you think he was an elf?"
        "He's little."
        "You're little, and you're not an elf."
        His logic did not convince her.
        "But I can see where he came from.  Snow and ice, all up in the sky."
        "Miko-chan, what you see when you look at him, and what you see when you look at me -- I  want you to keep it a secret, okay?"
        She looked at him mournfully.
        "Everyone just laughs at me anyway."
        "They don't believe you, hm?"
        She shook her head.
        "I believe you," Kurama told her.  "But you know what?  This is a very important secret, and I'm going to help you keep it.  And the way I'm going to help you is, if you tell anyone by mistake, I'll pretend I don't believe you.  Okay?"
        She looked a little doubtful as she tried to figure out if this was really something nice he was doing for her.
        "What kind of flower do you like best?" he asked her brightly.
        "Um....dandelions."
        He presented her with a large yellow dandelion.  She blinked at it and took it, not looking quite as doubtful.
        When he went back to check on Hiei, he was gone.  One window was open, and cold air was swirling in, stirring up dust.  Kurama shut it and locked it.  Had Hiei intended to meet with Kurama?  Or was he just watching over him?  Either way, it gave him a warm, peaceful feeling.  I'll be like that sword for you, he thought.  I'll pull you into my world yet.  You can barely resist.  You keep coming back.  Do you even realize what's happening?  I can't go to you.  My family is too important to abandon.  My life here is too interesting to throw away.  But if you come to me...  If you come to me...  He gazed out the window.  Hiei was nowhere to be seen.

        "Dear," said Obasan to her husband, "I'm really worried about your father and that sword of his.  Apparently he was waving it around today."
        "Again?"
        "Yes, again.  How many times have you talked to him about it, and he still can't leave it alone.  You've got to take it away from him.  Miko-chan's always up there with him.  She could get hurt!  I'm sure he wouldn't mean any harm, but he's too old to know what he's doing, and too weak to control such a heavy sword.  He'll hurt himself for sure, one of these days!  He's taking a nap right now, poor man, so why don't you get rid of it before he wakes up."
        "Okay, okay.  I'll take it up to the storage room for now and hide it.  It really needs to wrapped up properly, but it'll be alright for now."
        "Great.  Maybe he won't notice."
        "Oh, he'll notice.  It'll be pretty embarrassing if he throws a tantrum while our guests are here..."
        "Poor Ojiisan.  I know how much that sword means to him.  Good thing he doesn't have a weak heart, as far as we know.  It'll be quite a shock..."
        "Don't even say things like that!" he protested.  "I'll go do it now and get it over with."

December 31st, 11:15 p.m.
        It was almost midnight, New Year's Eve.
        "So what do we do tonight?  Anything special?" asked Kurama.
        He suddenly sensed Hiei's presence, close by.  It shocked through him like static electricity.
        "Well, the temple bell rings at midnight," explained Shuuichi, "a hundred and eight times, of course, and when it stops, we all go down to the shrine.  Oh, and we have to dress up."  He made a face.  "And then we come home and eat noodles."
        Where was he?  In the house somewhere?  Upstairs?
        "Shuuichi-san?  Are you paying attention?"
        "Ah, yeah, sorry.  Good thing it's not very cold out tonight."
        "Yeah, no kidding.  Some years we have to drive down because of all the snow."
        Miko put her head in the room.  She was wearing pink pajamas with the feet in.
        "Oniichan, the elf is back."
        "Thanks, Miko.  Better leave him alone, alright?"
        "I AM leaving him alone," she informed him, and disappeared again.
        "Crazy kid," said Shuuichi, shaking his head.
        "I'm going to go get dressed then," said Kurama.
        He went to their bedroom to change.  Remembering the leaves he had stuffed in his pocket, he felt around for them.  The pocket was empty.  Kurama checked the other pockets.  Nothing.  They had not broken into crumbly bits.  They simply no longer existed.  He thought about this for a minute. And then he went to look for Hiei.

        Downstairs, the older girls were resisting their mother's attempts to get them into kimonos.
        "Really, Kaasan," protested Sanae.  "Step into the twentieth century.  I want to wear this outfit."
        "You'll freeze in that short skirt.  Please, dear.  You know you both look so adorable in your kimonos, and your grandmother will be pleased."
        Shuuichi peeked in the room, looking for a place to hide from his father, who was trying to determine if he had in fact brought a tie.
        "Shuu-chan, tell the girls they look lovely in kimonos," Obasan instructed.
        "My brother likes girls in kimonos," he commented, although he had no idea if this was the case.
        "He does?"  Sanae held up her kimono, wavering.
        "Yeah, especially green ones like that."
        "It's blue.  Are you blind?"
        "I meant that he especially likes blue ones."

December 31st, 11:59 p.m.
        Kurama opened the door to the room used for storage, next to Ojiisan's room.  Hiei stood with his arms folded amidst the clutter.  It was cold up here.  Kurama turned the light on and regarded Hiei with a smile.
        "You came to see me."
        Hiei shrugged.
        "Is something wrong?  Are you alright?" asked Kurama.
        "Hn.  You're asking me?  You're the one who was passed out cold last night."
        "Ah, you were worried about me!"
        "Don't be stupid."
        Kurama's smile broadened, and he stepped towards Hiei, who warily took a step back.
        "Did you dress me in my pajamas?"
        Hiei mumbled something inaudible.
        "That was so cute!  You did it completely wrong, you know."
        Hiei glared at some cardboard boxes marked "magazines 1993."
        Kurama wondered what else Hiei had done while he was unconscious, but he knew he would be pushing his luck to ask.
        "I feel fine now," Kurama reassured him.
        "Did I ask?"
        "In your own way."
        Hiei kicked at a trunk.  Kurama put his hands on Hiei's shoulders, slowly, so as not to alarm him.  He slid his hands down Hiei's arms until he was holding his hands.  Hiei pulled his right hand away and looked as if he were trying to decide whether to do something violent with it.
        "Hiei..."
        In the distance a bell rang.
        Kurama gently pushed up Hiei's left sleeve and kissed his wrist.  Hiei gazed pointedly into an empty corner to indicate his lack of interest, but this was lost on Kurama, who didn't look up.  The bell rang again.
        "Why are you doing that," complained Hiei.
        "Why are you letting me?" asked Kurama, still not looking up.  Hiei scowled into the corner.  Kurama felt Hiei's quick, faint pulse against his mouth.  He pressed the tip of his tongue against the spot and felt it more strongly:  a constant, repetitive assurance that Hiei was alive, here, with him.  Like a mirroring heartbeat of the earth itself, slower and deeper and longer, the great bell rang again. He slid his tongue into the palm of Hiei's hand.  Hiei promptly pulled his hand away and wiped it on his tunic.
        "Come on, Hiei, just stay here until the bell stops ringing."
        "It's stopped."
        "No it hasn't.  Listen."  He traced Hiei's ear delicately with a finger.  Again came the sound of the distant bell.
        "Just till its quiet again, okay?"
        "..."
        "Deal?" he persisted.
        ".....Mm," agreed Hiei, looking annoyed.
        Kurama pulled them both down onto their knees.  He tried to make Hiei's arms go around his waist, but they flopped back down to his sides as soon as Kurama let go.  Well, what did he expect?  This was actually going pretty well.
        "I'm going to sew velcro on your sleeves," he threatened.
        Hiei pointedly did not ask what velcro was.
        "Like buttons," translated Kurama anyway.  "I'm going to button your sleeves together."
        Hiei did not appear to be intimidated by this threat.  Again the bell rang.
        "How long is that thing going to keep ringing?" he demanded.
        "Mmm...about another twenty minutes, I guess," estimated Kurama absently.  He tugged Hiei's headband off.  His third eye opened up.
        "You're joking, right?"
        "Wait and see," suggested Kurama, kissing him lightly on the mouth.
        "Manipulative bastard," accused Hiei.
        "Mm," agreed Kurama, kissing him again.  Then he tipped up Hiei's chin with one finger and kissed his throat.  He searched for the pulse under his ear, and found it just as the bell rang again.
        "Why are you being so...good?" he asked.
        Hiei shrugged.
        "I figure you won't do anything too annoying with that little kid watching," replied Hiei smugly.  Kurama jumped and spun around, looking.
        "Miko?!  Hiei, she's not here..."  He could vaguely feel her presence down on the first floor somewhere.
        "She's not HERE, but she's still watching," assured Hiei.
        "Doesn't matter," decided Kurama.  "Like you say, I'm not going to do anything too annoying.  After all, I only have twenty minutes."  He put his arms around Hiei and just held him tightly for awhile, feeling the heat and solidity of his small body, the tension in his shoulders, the rise and fall of his breathing.  It didn't take long for Hiei to get bored with this.  He struggled out of the embrace.
        "Still," considered Kurama, "When you think about it, twenty minutes is a long time.  I could actually do a lot in twenty minutes..."
        "No," observed Hiei with amusement, "You take too much pride in your work to rush through it."
        "True," Kurama admitted regretfully.
        "Arrogant son of a--nnm..."  Kurama cut him off with a kiss.
        Hiei pushed him away and glared at him.
        "What, no more insults?" asked Kurama, sounding disappointed.
        "You like me to insult you?"
        "I like you to open your mouth."
        There were several minutes of silence during which Hiei refused to open his mouth.  Kurama was patient, watching with a smile, his arms loosely around Hiei's shoulders.
        "...What's this?" asked Hiei finally, turning over Kurama's necktie and examining it.
        "It's a tie, Hiei, only worn by millions of guys all over the world."
        "Hn.  Looks like you got your head caught in a trap."
        "Yeah, it's kind of a symbol of submission.   It means I agree to be a grown-up and follow the rules and go work in an office somewhere."
        "Doesn't it choke you?"
        "No."
        "How about if I go like...this."
        "Yes, Hiei, now it's rather painful and I can't--breathe."
        "I don't understand you.  How can it be worth it?" asked Hiei, and then looked away as if he regretted asking and didn't care about the answer.
        "It's worth it to me."
        "Take it off," Hiei demanded suddenly.
        Kurama's hand's moved to loosen the knot, and then stopped.
        "You can't.  You won't," confirmed Hiei.
        "Make me an offer.  What do I get if I take it off?"
        "Your own freedom.  What more could you want?"
        "That's not enough."
        "Nothing is more important than freedom," stated Hiei.
        The bell continued to ring.   Kurama took Hiei's hand and began kissing his fingers.  He put them into his mouth and slid his tongue between them.  Hiei watched this for a while.  Kurama looked up suddenly and startled him by meeting his eyes.  He couldn't look away.  Kurama placed the small, wet fingers against Hiei's own mouth, and kissed him through them.  Slowly he pulled them away, still kissing him, until there was nothing between the two of them.  Then, as if a spell had been broken, Hiei panicked and jerked away.
        "What?" protested Kurama.
        "Nothing.  Just don't get carried away.  She's still watching."
        "What if I don't care."
        "She could blow your cover."
        "Yes, Hiei, a five year old girl announcing that she saw me kiss an elf could be really damaging."
        "Anyway, you do care.  You're wearing this damn thing."  He ran the back of his fingers down Kurama's tie.  "That means you care about all those humans and what they think."
        "And you don't care what people think of you?  So you don't mind if I tell Yuusuke that you lost a sword fight to an elderly human?  And Kuwabara-kun?"
        Kurama prepared to duck, but Hiei only sulked a little.  Odd.  He must not be in a very violent mood tonight, thought Kurama.  He pulled Hiei close again, running his hands soothingly up and down his narrow back.
        "You're so tense."
        "If you'd leave me alone I wouldn't be tense."
        "Are you cold?"
        "I'm never cold."
        "I'm cold.  It's freezing up here."
        "What do you want me to do, feel sorry for you?"
        "Sure, go ahead," he invited.
        Hiei just stared at him.  Kurama sighed.  After a moment, Hiei reached up and explored the knot of his tie.  He tugged it loose.  Then he leaned his head against Kurama's chest.
        "Be careful," breathed Kurama.  "You'll get caught too."
        "I can take care of myself."
        Kurama pulled his head up and kissed him harder than before, and deeper.  Hiei's whole body braced against it at first, then slowly, gradually, began to relax until only Kurama's arms were holding him up.  Kurama could taste Hiei's youki and feel it slide clean and dark through his whole body.  Eventually they became aware of a great silence.  Hiei broke the kiss and they looked at each other.  The silence simply grew and was not filled.  The bell had stopped ringing.  Hiei stood up a little shakily and brushed himself off.
        "Come with me," he said.
        Downstairs, far away, a door opened.
        "Otousan!" called a voice.  The door slammed, or another one opened.
        "Okaasan, you're not wearing that?!"
        Footsteps on the stairs, somewhere.
        "Has anyone seen my camera?"
        "Sana-chan!  Shuu-san!"
        Kurama looked up at him.
        "I can't."
        "Hn.  By the way, I lied about the kid.  She wasn't watching."
        Kurama smiled.
        "Manipulative bastard."  He tugged Hiei's headband back into place.  He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, Hiei was gone.  The room seemed suddenly darker and colder.  He opened the door and went downstairs.
        Everyone was gathered in the front room.
        "Shuu-san!  Where were you?  You missed the count-down!" accused Sanae.
        "There you are," smiled Shiori.  "Happy New Year.  Come here."  She tightened his tie for him.  Hiei was far away by now.
 
January 1st, 12:25 a.m.
        "Miko!" Ojiisan was calling.  She skipped up to his room and peeked her head in the door.
        "Miko, where's my sword?  Has it fallen into enemy hands?!"
        "No, Ojiisan, Otousan took it away."
        "Took it away?  Where?"
        "Don't know."

        The walk to the shrine was pleasant, cold but not too cold.  Shuuichi had been chastised for "forgetting" to bring a tie for the fifth year in a row and was forced to wear one of his father's.  The girls were both wearing their kimonos.  Miko was too young to go.  She stayed at home with Obaasan and Ojiisan.
        There were dozens of people milling about at the shrine.  Sanae took Kurama's arm and dragged him around, introducing him to all her friends as "my cousin from the city."
        "I'm Minamino.  Nice to meet you," he said to everyone she presented him with.  One boy glared at him and stalked away.
        "I don't think he liked you," she said, disappointed.  "I wonder why."
        "I think he likes YOU," suggested Kurama.
        "Really?!  You think he's jealous?"  This idea obviously appealed to her greatly.  "Um, did you see where he went?"
        "No.  Maybe you should go look for him."
        "Good idea."  She abandoned Kurama and ran off.
        Kurama went to find Shiori.  Her face lit up when she saw him.
        "Kaasan, are you alright?  You're not too cold, are you?"
        "No, I'm fine.  You're always thinking of me, aren't you?"  She put out her mittened hands and he took them.
        "Happy New Year," he said.
        "Happy New Year," she replied.  "Let's go say our prayers, shall we?"
        They had to wait their turn to stand in front of the altar.  Kurama watched Shiori shake the rope to sound the bells, and clap her hands together.  He put his own hands together and closed his eyes.
        "May my family know peace and happiness in the coming year and always," he thought.  "And for my friends...happiness, and peace if they want it."

        Miko looked everywhere.  It wasn't propped up in the closet.  It wasn't out back in the tool shed.  It wasn't under the kitchen sink.  It wasn't behind Okaasan's chest of drawers.  It wasn't in the toaster oven.  She bit her lip thoughtfully and started to search all over again, yawning as she slowly climbed the stairs.  The storage room was cold and spooky, which was why she had given it only a cursory examination before.  Also, there were too many boxes here.  Too many possibilities.  She turned on the light and ventured in, wandering among the crates and old furniture.
        Then she spotted something suspicious!  Over by the window, draped in a sheet...  She trotted over, tugged the sheet off, and there was the sword!  Ojiisan would be so happy to know the enemies hadn't gotten it.  First she thought she would tell him where it was, and then she rather sleepily decided that she should just bring it to him.  It was too cold in here for him, and he would have to hobble around all these boxes and step over things.  She yawned again.  Better hurry, she thought, before her feet froze to the floor.  This was something her sisters had assured her could happen.  Good thing she was wearing pajama bottoms with the feet in.  She could always pull them off and scamper out of the room if necessary.
        Ojiisan had said never to touch the sword.  But he had said that to Oniichan, too.  And she had seen Oniichan touch it.  Everyone thought he was really good, but she knew he had done some naughty things.  Although he wasn't bad.  He was lots better than her sisters or Shuu-chan.  He was nice to her, and she liked him.  His hair was pretty, too.  Anyway, he had touched it and nothing had happened to him, had it?  Nope.  He had been fine.  Maybe Ojiisan was like Sana-chan with her colored pencils -- he just didn't want to share.  Or maybe he thought she might cut herself.  But she would be very, very careful.  She wouldn't touch the sharp part.
        Miko carefully put her hands on the sword hilt.  Nothing awful happened.  Tentatively, she tried to lift it.  It was much heavier than she expected, and as she pulled, the display stand fell over with a crash.  Miko's heart pounded.  She almost ran away.  Would someone come and yell at her?  But everyone except Obaasan and Ojiisan had gone to the shrine.  Ojiisan was asleep for the night, and Obaasan was napping so she could get up and make noodles when everyone got home.  No one came.
        She tried to extricate the sword from the display stand, but the sheath got caught and the sword started to pull out from it.  She put one hand on the sheath, and yanked on that.  The weight of the sword suddenly shifted, and her hand slid off the sheath and just barely touched the blade.

January 1st, 1:30 a.m.
        Back home, they were glad to be presented with hot soba noodles.  Obaasan carried the steaming bowls into the living room.  Shuuichi and Kanae swooped down on theirs and began slurping them down.  Everyone else waited politely.  Sanae wasn't back yet.
        "Hey," said Shuuichi through a mouthful of noodles, "we better eat Sana-chan's noodles or they'll just get soggy and cold."
        "I could eat half of them," volunteered Kanae.
        "Help yourselves, dears, I can make more when Sana-chan comes home," offered Obaasan.
        "You should be in bed by now," scolded Obasan.  "I'll fix Sana-chan's noodles.  If she shows up soon.  Really, if she prefers to run around with some boy instead of eating noodles with us, I don't see why anyone should stay up on her account."
        "But she loves traditions like this," smiled Obaasan in her own delusionary world.
        "Maybe she went to the boy's house to have her noodles?" suggested Kurama.
        "I hope," stated Obasan, "that she hasn't gotten her kimono dirty.  Does she realize that kimonos are not cheap?  Nor is having them cleaned."
        "You're the one who insisted she wear it," objected Kanae.
        "Maybe she fell in the mud," proposed Shuuichi, "and she's afraid to come home."  He scooped half the noodles out of Sanae's bowl into his own.  Kanae poured the rest into her own bowl. Obasan looked horrified at the idea of Sanae's kimono covered in mud.
        "Shuu-chan's probably right," agreed Kanae.  "You know what a klutz she is in geta."
        "Oh, and you're a vision of grace," smirked Shuuichi.
        "Would anyone like any more noodles?  Shuuichi-kun?"  Obaasan smiled at Kurama.  "You're a growing boy.  Don't you like my noodles?  So thin, these city children..."
        "Unlike Kana-chan, a solid country girl," observed Shuuichi.  Kanae yanked his ears.
        "No, thank you, but they were very good," Kurama assured her.  Something was wrong.  He couldn't pin down exactly what.  In fact, several things seemed to be wrong.  He started to worry about Sanae.
 
January 1st, 2:00 a.m.
        Miko huddled against the trunk of a tree, whimpering.  She wanted to call for help, but was afraid a bad person would hear her.
        "Okaasan?  Ojiisan?" she whispered hopefully.
        There was no sound anywhere but the sound of her voice.
        Maybe she should hide.  Miko looked around.  Even if she could climb a tree, all the leaves had fallen and she would be obvious among the bare branches.  There didn't appear to be any closets or large cardboard boxes around.  Could she dig a hole to hide in?
        "Okaasan?  Otousan?" she whispered again.
        But they wouldn't come get her.  They didn't know where she was.  They would never believe she was inside the sword.  Ojiisan...he might know.  But he had told her never, never, never to touch the sword.  Maybe he would be so mad at her that he wouldn't come get her?  She started to cry again.  And anyway, Ojiisan was old and not very strong.  Maybe he couldn't get her out.  Maybe he wouldn't even guess she was in here.  Miko made herself small against the trunk of the tree and sobbed miserably.  Then a thought occurred to her.  Oniichan might come for her!  She blinked back her tears as she considered this possibility.  She pulled out of the pocket in her pajama bottoms the wilted dandelion he had given her.  Oniichan believed her.  He knew about the sword.  He could really come get her!  She began to feel a little better.  Yes, she would hide until he arrived.  Miko picked up a handful of dead leaves and examined them for anything icky.  Finding nothing, she placed them carefully on her head.  She hoped Oniichan could recognize her under this disguise.  She would wait.

        One by one, the grownups all went off to bed, except for Obasan.
        "Thoughtless girl," she complained, "doesn't even think anyone would worry."  She stacked the empty bowls and carried them out to the kitchen.
        "I'll go look for her," said Kurama, putting his coat back on.
        "Oh, I'm sure she's fine, probably fell asleep at that boy's house," she said quickly, but she looked relieved at his offer.
        It had gotten a little colder out.  Frost had formed on the ground, and leaves crunched under Kurama's feet as he retraced their steps back to the shrine.  It was deserted.  He began to walk around the shrine, his path spiraling outwards as he searched for signs of her passage, or her ki.  But it was dark, and human ki is faint.  For a long while, he had no luck.
        Finally he sensed her presence, and that of another human.  He hoped he wasn't interrupting a romantic interlude, but decided it was too cold for that sort of thing.  Even a boy-crazy young girl would surely rather be home on a night like this.
        "Sanae-san!" he called.  Better to give them a lot of warning, just in case.
        The boy he had been introduced to earlier came running up the hill towards him.
        "Mi-minamino-san!"
        "Takashi-kun, come back!"  Sanae's voice came urgent and weak.  The boy looked frightened, and ran back towards the sound of her voice.  Kurama hurried behind him.
        Sanae lay propped against a tree.  Takashi had spread his coat out for her to sit on.  She looked barely conscious.
        "Sanae-san, what happened?" asked Kurama in concern.  Her head flopped forward and she mumbled something in a terrified tone.  That was all he could get out of her.  He looked at the boy.
        "We--we were playing hide and seek.  I know it sounds stupid...  And she went to hide, and then she screamed really loud.  I ran over to her, and she kept screaming, but I couldn't see anything to make her scream.  And she said it was a --a monster, and it had passed right through her.  She was really freaked out."
        "So you didn't see it?"
        "See it?  You think a monster really went through her?"
        "Well, she must have seen something.  A big dog, or an owl or something?"
        The boy looked reassured at these possibilities.
        "I didn't see anything, but..."
        Kurama tilted her head up and examined her.  He checked her pupils and her pulse.  She seemed alright.  Maybe it was just shock.
        "I'm going to take her home," he said, and picked her up.
        "I...I would have gone for help, but I didn't want to leave her alone...She wouldn't let me..."  The boy looked distraught at his unheroic role.
        Kurama looked at him seriously.
        "Thank you for taking care of my cousin," he said.  "I'm sure her whole family will be grateful."
        The boy perked up a little at this, but seemed unsure if there was anything left for him to do.
        "Well, I'll just..."
        "Why don't you come with us, and you can explain what happened.  And carry her geta, will you?  I think they're going to fall off."
        Kurama started back to the farmhouse carrying Sanae, followed by the boy carefully bearing her shoes.  When he got her home, he left her to her mother and the boy, and went upstairs, thinking.  He did not doubt that she had seen a "monster," and if she said it had passed right through her, it probably had.  But now he identified what else was wrong:  Miko's ki was missing.  For a human, her ki was pretty strong, and he could usually tell where she was, but now he felt nothing.  He went to the girls' room, knocked softly, and then peeked in.  Miko wasn't in her futon.  Then he entered the storeroom, where Ojisan had taken the sword.  It was off its display rack, lying on the floor, half out of its sheath.  He knelt down and put his hand on the blade.
        Kurama found himself half standing on a battlefield, and half still in the storeroom.  He fought against the pull that wanted him to relinquish his reality and accept the sword's reality.  The battlefield was deserted, except for thousands of corpses.  They littered the ground as far as he could see.  There was no movement, except that of the wind toying with the hair of the dead men.
        "Miko!" he shouted, but his voice sounded faint in his own ears.  The pull was growing too strong to resist.  He tore his hand away from the blade, and fell back into the storeroom.  Then he took a deep breath and tried again, touching the blade a little closer to the hilt.
        It was a swamp, here.  Ghostly figures drifted back and forth over the sodden ground.  Something like that could pass through a person, Kurama thought with a chill.  I hope she didn't fall in here.  He called to her, but again there was no reply.  Again he had to break contact before being completely pulled in himself.

January 1st, 3:00 a.m.
        Kurama put the sword neatly back on its rack and threw open the windows.
        "Hiei," he whispered, and then called a little louder.  Everyone was either bustling around Sanae or fast asleep anyway.  No one would hear.  He called again.  There was a black blur at his elbow.
        "What?" demanded Hiei, looking sleepy.
        "Have you seen a little girl lately?  Or some kind of youkai that could pass through a human body?"
        "No.  Last night I saw a Youko staggering around drunk."
        "Thank you for bringing that up, Hiei."
        "My pleasure."
        "I think Miko fell into the sword.  And in doing so, she must have opened a gateway allowing something else to get out."
        "So?"
        "So I want you to round up whatever it was that got out.  I'm going to look for Miko."
        "Inside that sword?"
        "Right.  Oh, and I'll probably need you to get us out."  He explained that Miko had probably touched the sword near the hilt, since it had been only partly pulled out of its sheath, and warned Hiei not to get pulled in himself.
        "If you do," he sighed, "we all have to count on Ojiisan to get us out."
        "The one who tried to kill me."
        "Right.  Him.  But he probably can't get us out.  So be careful, alright?"
        "Hn."  Hiei did not tell Kurama to be careful, but the look in his eyes said it clearly enough.  Kurama smiled at him, and then touched the blade right against the hilt.  Trees formed tentatively around him, and then more solidly.  The inside of the sword was just too big.  There was no way he could find Miko without going inside.  Hiei was watching him uneasily.  As Kurama surrendered to the sword's pull, Hiei's face slowly faded away.

        Inside the sword, it was neither dark nor light, but a sort of twilight.  No sun or moon shone.  There was nothing to be seen in the dull gray sky, and though it arced impossibly high above him, the horizons were too close.  He was standing in a dead forest.  The air had a metallic smell, like blood.  Kurama placed his hands on a tree trunk and felt for a spark of life deep inside.  There was nothing.
        A mist that hadn't been here a minute ago was puddling faintly around his ankles.  Kurama tried to step away from it, but it followed him, gaining solidity as it twined around his body.  It felt cold and wet against his face.  He brushed it away and wiped his face with a sleeve.  It moved back and took on a vaguely human form.  He sensed youki emanating from it, but no life force.  It laughed softly at him.
        "What are you doing here, living one?"
        Then it assumed the more or less steady shape of a human warrior from maybe three hundred years ago.  Its armor was crude and stained with blood.  The blood was still wet, running down the creature's chest, but had no scent.
        "Don't give me illusions," warned Kurama with a dangerous look in his eye.
        "There are no illusions here.  Everything is as real...as you are."
        Kurama knew illusions, and had to admit this felt real.
        "Where do youkai go when we die?" it challenged Kurama.
        "Where?" demanded Kurama, not in the mood for riddles.
        "Wherever we can," it replied with a small smile.
        "I'm looking for a little girl.  A human."
        "There is nothing here but death."
        "I'm not dead."
        "You just got here.  Your body is already beginning to die," it assured him.  Its body half-dissolved, and it dragged itself together again with an effort.
        He thought about the leaves, which had dissolved into nothingness a short time after being transported through the sword.
        "Have you seen her?"
        "I should give you information because...?"
        Kurama didn't have time for this.
        "Rose whip!"
        He willed the weapon into existence.
        And nothing happened.  The necessary youki was available, but did not take form.  Kurama tried another move.
        "Fuuka Enbujin!"
        Razor sharp rose petals should have surrounded him in a protective cloud, but didn't.
        He tried a few more things, all to no avail.  The ghostly creature chuckled.  Kurama was not pleased.  Not only might this situation abruptly turn dangerous, but it was damn embarrassing, too.
        "You shouldn't have come here.  All your power seems to derive from life.  It's completely useless here."
        He's right, thought Kurama.  I should have sent Hiei.

January 1st, 4:45 a.m.
        Finally he found her, curled under a tree in her pink pajamas, either asleep or unconscious.
        "Miko?" he touched her gently.
        She slowly blinked and looked up with big, hopeful eyes.
        "Oniichan?  Oniichan!  You came to get me!"
        She flung her arms around Kurama.  He brushed the leaves out of her hair and picked her up.
        "Are you alright?"
        "Oniiiichaaaan..."  She burst into sobs.  It was to be expected, he thought, after the stress that she'd been under.  Physically, she seemed fine.  Carrying her in his arms, he begin to retrace his steps, although it probably didn't matter.  Hiei didn't know exactly where he'd gone in anyway.  Miko's sobs slowly diminished.
        "How--how are we going to get out?" she gulped.
        "The elf will get us out."
        "Oniichan, is the elf a bad elf?"
        "No.  Why would Santa have bad elves?"
        "Well.  Santa maked the elfs to make the toys.  But some elfs, one elf especially, was bad, and Santa threw him out, down, down, out of his sleigh to earth."
        Kurama thought about this for a few minutes as he walked.  He'd only been walking about two hours.  Why was he so tired?
        "I think you're mixing up two stories," he told her.  "You're thinking about God throwing the bad angels out of heaven."
        "Oh.  But he seemed kind of grumpy."
        "Yes."
        "But...Ojiisan's grumpy a lot.  And he's not bad."  She yawned and snuggled down in Kurama's arms.
 
        Hiei jabbed a finger at the sword hilt, and then snatched it back.  He touched it again warily.  Nothing happened.  He put a finger on the sheath.  Still nothing.  Taking a deep breath, he drew the sword out of its sheath.  He found it hard to believe that people could fall into this thing,  but then he had been knocked unconscious by it (briefly unconscious, he told himself soothingly, and he refused to give the old human any credit).  He touched the blade, near the hilt, as Kurama had instructed him.
        A forest startled Hiei by springing up around him.  But he quickly dismissed it.  He didn't bother thinking about the inexplicable.  Kurama was nowhere to be seen.  He slid his finger along the blade, and the forest shot sickeningly by him, miles and miles of it.  Luckily speed was his forte.  He was able to determine that Kurama was not in this stretch of trees.  He became aware that the sword was trying to seduce him.  His youki was drawn to it.  He couldn't pull his eyes away.  His whole body urged him to let go of the sword and his reality.  He fought it, sliding his finger a little farther.
        "Kurama!"  He could see him now, walking this way through some dead trees, but still far away.  Kurama did not appear to see or hear him.  It was obvious to Hiei that he couldn't just wait here.  The sword's pull grew greater every moment, and soon he would have to disengage or be sucked in.  With his free hand, he drew his own sword, and nicked a finger.  He marked with blood exactly where he was touching the blade.  Then he broke contact.  Relief swept through him.  He did not take well to traps, or anything that tried to restrain him.  Even being held in Kurama's arms made him nervous.  He immediately denied having that last thought.  Hiei put his own sword up, and braced himself to try again.  Yes, Kurama was closer now.  Hiei could see that he was carrying a child.  It was a little difficult to make out details, since he was seeing the crates and floorboards of the storage room as well, superimposed on the forest.  So he had been successful?  Or perhaps she was dead.  He called out again, and this time Kurama heard him.  He altered his course slightly and began walking more quickly.  Hiei couldn't resist the pull any more.  He jerked himself back into the storage room.  He would give Kurama five minutes.
        When Hiei tried this time, Kurama was only about ten feet away, resting against a tree.
        "Kurama!  Hurry up!" he shouted.
        Kurama looked up.  He seemed relieved, and more tired than he should have been.  Hiei held out his free hand.  Kurama carried Miko to him and held her out.
        "Take her across first," he said, his voice distorted and weak in Hiei's ears.  He took the human and forced her backwards, out of the forest.  Kurama and the trees grew a little fainter.  Hiei reached back into the real world, poking at the child as she lay on the cold wooden floor.  She whimpered a little and batted at his hand without opening her eyes.
        Hiei returned his attention to the reality of the sword again.  Kurama seemed to be having difficulty getting to his feet.  He stumbled towards Hiei.
        "Kurama, come on!"  He reached out to him.      "Look out!" cried Kurama in his indistinct, blurred voice, staring at something behind Hiei.
        He tried to turn his head to look, but the sword had such a grip on him by this time that it was like moving under water.  The forest seemed very real now; the boxes in the store room, and the sword itself were barely visible.  And the old man bringing an empty sake bottle crashing down on his head seemed unreal too, until the impact.

        "You again!  Demon invader!" Kurama heard Ojiisan holler, just before he, and the store room snapped out of existence.  Hiei fell forward into Kurama's reality.  He fell flat on his face without even trying to catch himself, and lay still for a minute.
        "Hiei?"
        "...Mph..."
        "Hiei, you weren't supposed to fall in."
        Hiei moaned slightly in response.
        "That's the second time he got you."
        Hiei cursed into the leaves.  Kurama helped him to sit up.  His headband was slowly turning red, and trickles of blood ran down his face and behind his ear.
        "Close your eyes and step back," instructed Hiei.  He shook his head violently from side to side.  Bits of glass flew out of his hair, and blood spattered everywhere.  Hiei blinked and put out his hand dizzily.  Kurama steadied him.
        "Be still.  I'll get the glass out."  He slid his hands gently through Hiei's hair, pulling out little shards of glass.
        "How did Miko look?  Did you notice?"
        "The kid?  She was sort of mewling and cringing."
        Kurama interpreted this to mean that she was probably going to be alright.
        Hiei felt the back of his head.  There was a bump forming.
        "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch," he spat.
        "He'll probably be gone in a few years without your help, Hiei," soothed Kurama.  "That's all the glass I can find."  He wiped his hands on the leaves to get the blood off.

January 1st, 7 a.m.
        "I can't believe you children are up so early," said Obasan, in a scruffy old bathrobe.
        "Are the New Year's cards here yet?" asked Sanae eagerly.  She was dressed already.  Shuuichi and Kanae stood in their pajamas, rubbing their eyes.
        "Of course not.  Why don't you go back to sleep?"  She yawned.
        "Otoshidama!  Otoshidama!" cried all three of them.  Obasan sighed.  Shiori emerged from her room and smiled at them.
        "Good morning.  Hang on, I'll get my purse.  I think there's a little something for all of you in there."  She fetched her purse, and produced from it small envelopes with cute pictures on them, and gave one to each child.
        "From my husband and me.  Oh, and here's one for Shuuichi, and one for Miko-chan, when they wake up," she said, putting them on the table.
        Obasan grumbled and brought in some envelopes with different cute pictures on them.
        "From my husband and his parents, and myself," she said, handing them out.
        The children thanked them enthusiastically.  Miko stumbled in, looking disoriented.
        "Okaasan, I'm cold!"
        "Miko-chan," said her mother in surprise.  "Why are your pajamas so grubby?  You haven't been outside, have you?  Show me the bottoms of your feet!"
        Miko sleepily presented the soles of her pajama feet to her mother.
        "Kyaa!  What have you been doing?  Sleep walking?"
        "Okaasan, I think Shuu-san sleep walks, too," commented Sanae, peeking into her envelope.
        Shiori didn't say anything.  As far as she knew, her son didn't sleep walk, but he often left the room abruptly, and sometimes mysteriously disappeared for days on end.  And of course, he always had some perfectly reasonable excuse afterwards.  It hurt, that he didn't trust her with the truth.  He must be doing something dangerous, to want to protect her from the knowledge of it.  She couldn't imagine he would do anything bad.  A neighbor had mentioned lately that she had seen him "hanging out" with delinquent types, but she was sure he had good reasons for whatever he was doing.  She was completely baffled by her son.  And now he was doing it again.  She had checked his room a few minutes ago, and he had not been there.  In fact, he had obviously not slept in his futon all night.  Little Shuuichi must know something was going on as well as she did, but like her, he said nothing.  Like her, he trusted Shuuichi.  Please be alright, she thought fervently.
        "I'm going back to sleep," mumbled Obasan.  "Come on, these crazy kids can make themselves breakfast if they want it.  Kept me up half the night worrying, and then she comes home raving about monsters, and now she's all bright-eyed and perky and looking for money...  Miko, put some clean clothes on.  I'm giving you a bath when I wake up.  Sanae, make sure she puts something warm on.  Come on, dear, there's no need to be up this early"  She led Shiori away.
        Miko cranked up the heated carpet to its highest setting and climbed underneath the kotatsu so that only some of her hair stuck out.
        "Great!" said Shuuichi, looking into the envelopes.  "I've been getting low on cash.  I was afraid I'd have to sell my body to science."
        "Who'd want it?" asked Sanae.
        "I was going to let them take off all my skin and put on plexiglass instead, so they could watch how my insides work," he explained.
        "Won't that hurt?" asked Miko in alarm from under the kotatsu.
        "Oh, it would hurt a lot.  That's why I'd get so much money for doing it."
        "I don't want to see anyone's icky insides..."  Miko began to cry.
        "See, Shuu-chan, that's what you get for being so disgusting.  Now you've made Miko cry."  Sanae pulled up the kotatsu quilt and dragged her sister half-way out.  She rubbed her back soothingly.
        "Just kidding, Miko," Shuuichi hastily reassured her.
        "Don't worry," Kanae comforted her, "we wouldn't let him come visit anymore if he did anything so disgusting."
        "You are a mess," observed Sanae to Miko.  "Why do you have leaves stuck in your collar?"
        "Hey," suggested Shuuichi, "later this morning why don't we go around the neighborhood and wish everyone a Happy New Year?"
        "You think they'd give us money?" asked Kanae.
        "Wouldn't hurt to try."
        "Shuu-chan," said Sanae, "you may be annoying and sick, but you do have good ideas once in awhile."

January 1st, 8:30 a.m.
        "There's got to be some way out of here," said Hiei.
        "After we've rested awhile, let's go see if we can break through."  Kurama gazed at the metal wall rising impossibly into the sky.  It would take hours to get there.  Hiei would be faster, of course, but Kurama couldn't hope to keep up with him at the best of times, and right now he was feeling pretty drained.  Although Hiei looked rather wobbly at the moment as well.
        "Suppose we can't get out?" suggested Hiei.  "We're stuck here, just the two of us, for eternity?"  He looked around, and didn't seem completely opposed to this idea.  Ningenkai made him tense and jumpy.  He didn't like it much there.  Either he had to hide all the time, or he caused a scene, and then Koenma would get on his case and think of some job for him to do.  Makai was much better.  It was his home territory.  This sword was not technically Makai, of course, but it was Makai-made, and it felt Makai.  It was a trap, yes, but it didn't feel so much like a trap once he was inside, and Kurama was here with him, just the two of them, their own little demonic Garden of Eden.  Maybe that's why it didn't seem like a trap.  Kurama was here, and his humans were not.  Anyway, anything was a trap if you thought about it.  Ningenkai, Makai...
        "Well, we die pretty soon, I think," commented Kurama.  "Everything in here seems to be dead."
        "Like that thing that got out?"
        "Yeah, what happened with that?"
        "I chased it all over but when I caught up with it, there wasn't much left.  Like mist.  And then it disappeared."
        "It dispersed, you mean?  It didn't just go somewhere else?"
        "It no longer existed.  Its ki was gone."
        "Hm."
        Hiei was silent, looking around.
        "There are a lot of dead things in here that still have their minds, and their bodies, more or less..." said Kurama, following with his eyes a wispy shape that drifted past.
        "Then what's so bad about being dead?"
        Kurama leaned over, put his arm around Hiei, and kissed him searchingly.
        "Um, can't we do that later?" inquired Hiei.  He obviously felt Kurama's priorities were a little off.
        "Hiei, you don't get subtlety, do you?"
        "There was nothing subtle about that."
        "...True.  What I meant was, no I think we wouldn't be able to do that later, and that's one thing that's bad about being dead.  It wouldn't be the same, anyway."
        "Oh."  Hiei slid his arms around Kurama's waist and pulled him closer.
        "You saw how weak Miko was.  She was unconscious for the last hour or so.  And I'm starting to feel it, too."  Kurama ran his tongue up Hiei's jawline and kissed his ear.
        "Feel what?" whispered Hiei, sliding his hands over Kurama's chest.
        "The draining effect of the sword, presumably the precursor to coma and then death," clarified Kurama.
        "So there's no time to waste."  Hiei tilted his head up and slowly closed his eyes.
        "Right.  We'd better get underway," agreed Kurama, kissing him again in a leisurely fashion, and pushing him down into the leaves.
        "Your hands are shaking," Hiei observed.
        "Yes, that's that precursor to death I was talking about."
        "Hmm..."

January 1st, 9:30 a.m.
        Obaasan bustled about in the kitchen.  She pulled mochi rice cakes out of the refrigerator and turned the kettle on for tea.  She counted soup bowls and rice bowls and chopsticks.  And yesterday they had prepared osechi ryouri, which they would eat cold today so they wouldn't have to cook much on New Year's Day.  Her new daughter-in-law Shiori-chan had been so helpful!  And so eager to learn all her recipes.  A truly delightful young woman.  And her son, so well brought up!  Of course, all the children were delightful.  So lucky, she was, to have this family.
        "Oh, Obaasan's up!  Happy New Year, Obaasan," sang Sanae.  Shuuichi and Kanae followed her into the kitchen.  She had let herself be convinced that what had scared her last night had some perfectly natural explanation, and was pleased that she had had the opportunity to be rescued by Takashi-kun (seven point eight) and Shuu-san (nine point two).  In her opinion, this year was starting out splendidly.
        "What would you all like for breakfast?" asked Obaasan with her characteristic smile.  "Mochi, of course?"
        "Soup and rice, please," said Sanae.  "And two mochi in my soup!"
        "Pizza mochi!" cried Shuuichi and Kanae.
        "Whatever is pizza mochi?" asked their grandmother.
        "Shuu-chan and I will make it," Kanae reassured her.
        "Don't look at me," he protested.  "I can only cook two kinds of things:  food that goes in the microwave, and food that goes in the toaster oven."
        "Well, you're in luck.  This can go in either one.  Get the pizza sauce and cheese out of the fridge, will you?"
        She placed the round mochi cakes on plates and watched critically as Shuuichi squeezed sauce onto them.  Then she peeled the plastic off the cheese slices and draped them lovingly on top.
        "Put 'em in the microwave until the cheese melts and the mochi gets soft," directed Kanae.
        Sanae watched doubtfully as she ate her rice.
        "Is this another disgusting invention of yours, Shuu-chan?"
        "Of course not.  My brother loves pizza mochi," he assured her, although he rather doubted this to be the case.
        "Make sure you chew that carefully, now, Sana-chan," advised Obaasan.  "You know how you tend to choke on them."
        "Oh, Obaasan, I only did that once, when I was really little!"
        "Well please don't do it again!  Scared us all half to death!"
        "Really?  What happened?" asked Shuuichi, peering into the microwave.
        "Oh, well, she couldn't get it up or down, and she was turning blue!  Her father gave her a good whack on the back and that mochi came flying out of her mouth.  What a relief!"
        Shuuichi and Kanae laughed.  Sanae turned red and chewed her mochi carefully.

        They had finally come to the boundary of this reality:  a silvery metallic wall rising up sickeningly high, curving slightly inwards.  It reflected the endless trees, and the figures of Kurama and Hiei.  Kurama touched the reflection of his face hesitantly.  Touching the sword from this side seemed to have no effect.
        "Do I look that bad?" he asked.
        "You look tired."
        "I am tired."
        "At least you're not drunk."
        "How does your head feel, Hiei?" asked Kurama, ignoring this last comment.
        "It fucking hurts."
        "I'm sorry.  I apologize for my grandfather's behavior."
        "I don't understand how that old man could hit me so hard," complained Hiei.
        "He has a long-standing relationship with this sword," Kurama shrugged.  "Maybe he gets power from it."
        "So what do we do now?"
        "Try fire on it," suggested Kurama, sitting down and leaning against a tree.  Hiei pulled off his cape and tunic, to give him freedom of movement and keep them from getting torn and burned.  He didn't want to admit it, but he was feeling unaccountably worn out, himself.
        "Jaoh Ensatsu Ken!" he commanded, and a fiery sword ignited in his hand.  Kurama watched as he tried for some time to cut through the metal.  Hiei backed off to examine the results.  The metal had begun to turn red in one small spot.
        "This could take hours," grumbled Hiei.  He turned around to look at Kurama.
        "Hey, wake up!" he ordered in alarm.  Kurama was slumped over on the ground.
        "No, I'd...rather not," he protested in a faint voice.
        Hiei looked at the wall.  It had cooled off and now showed no sign of his attack.  He glanced briefly at Kurama again, and then began unwrapping the bandages from his arm.  This would be a gamble.  After releasing the Kokuryuuha, he would require at least an hour of sleep.  In normal circumstances.  And when he woke up (assuming he ever would), Kurama might be gone.  If that were the case, better to never wake up himself.  Better not to know.  Kurama could talk about ghostly bodies and continued existence in an altered form and such, but  Hiei wouldn't believe in an after-life until he felt himself after-living it.
        He felt the dragon growing, sucking power out of him, draining his energy.  It uncurled from his arm and rose, black and crackling, still gorging on his power.  And when the moment was right, he unleashed it.  Point blank.
        "Jyaoh Ensatsu Kokuryuuha!!!"
        The wall shook from the collision, and the tremors knocked Hiei flat.  Enraged and uncontrollable, the Kokuryuuha battered again and again at the wall.  Cracks were appearing in the shiny metal, and in the earth itself, radiating out from the point of impact.  The dragon screamed as it bucked and twisted, flailing at the enemy that had been set before it.  Hiei scooped up Kurama and carried him swiftly out of the way as trees toppled.
        The metal wall cracked open.  Hiei immediately put Kurama down and called back the dragon, exerting all his will on it to force it to return to his arm.  For a moment, he wasn't sure he'd win.  The Kokuryuuha cavorting through Kurama's relative's farm house did make for an intriguing image, but of course this ridiculous half-human lying at his feet would be devastated.  Despite the fact that he'd only met most of  its inhabitants three days ago.  The dragon shrieked and writhed.  It was not yet ready to return to slumber.  It still had power to expend.  Hiei compromised with it and let it take out huge swaths of forest.  Finally he got it back under control.  He staggered a moment, exhausted, and then picked up Kurama and leaped with him through the gaping hole in the edge of the world.
 
January 1st, 9:45 a.m.
        Sanae pounced on the large stack of New Year's postcards and began sorting them.  Kanae hung over her shoulder.  Their mother was slumped over a large mug of coffee.
        "One for me...one for me...another one for me..."
        "Miko wants one!" demanded Miko, dancing around in excitement.
        "Some boring ones from businesses...an ugly one for Kana-chan..."
        "Waa!" Kanae grabbed it eagerly.
        "Some more for me...  Three for Kaasan and Tousan..."
        "Where's Miko's?" demanded the little girl again.
        "...More boring ones...Oooh!  Check it out!  From London!  And here's one from the Painted Hearts!!"  These were two of her favorite teen idol bands.
        "Ah, let me see," begged Kanae.
        "MIKO WANTS ONE TOO," hollered Miko.  After what she'd been through lately, she wasn't in the mood to put up with much.
        "Can you believe they remembered me?  They love me!"  Sanae hugged the postcards to her chest in joy.
        "Really, Sana-chan," commented her mother, "the New Year's card was part of the deal when you paid that ridiculously huge sum of money to join their fan clubs, wasn't it?  They have a contractual obligation to send those to you.  Besides, the band members probably never even saw them."
        "Okaasan!  You're so cruel!  I'm sure Toshi-san and Masa-san read all the letters I send them.  I knew they wouldn't forget me!"  She examined the cards with happy concentration.
        "Didn't you join some manga fan club too?" inquired Kanae, looking through the stack of cards while Sanae was otherwise engaged.
        "Yeah, see if it's in there," Sanae directed, flipping the cards over to look at the other side for the third time.
        "Where's Miko's cards?" demanded the little girl again.
        "Kana-chan, give one to Miko," said their mother.  Kana selected one from a local supermarket thanking them for their patronage and hoping for a great business relationship in the coming year.  She printed "MIKO" across the top and handed it to her little sister.
        "NO, Miko wants a pretty one!" she protested.
        "Miko, just wait till I'm done looking for mine," complained Kanae.  "Oh, here's your manga fan club one, Sana-chan.  Alright!  I got one from Kei-kun!"
        "Kei will be bald by the time he's twenty," predicted Sanae, taking the fan club card.
        "Hey, here's one for Miko after all," announced Kanae in surprise.  "From your preschool teacher."
        Miko was all smiles as she hugged her card.
        Shuuichi came in, balancing a plate of pizza mochi and orange juice in each hand.  He gave one plate and glass to Kanae and sat down, stabbing the mochi with his chopsticks.
        "How many New Year's cards did you get?" he asked.
        "Sana-chan got thirty seven, and I only got six," Kanae said sadly, attacking her own pizza mochi.
        "How many did you send out?" inquired Shuuichi.
        "Four."
        "Aha."  He stretched out the mochi and ate a big bite.
        "Waaa!  Miko wants pizza mochi too!"

January 1st, 10:15 a.m.
        "Kurama?" said Hiei, wrapping the bandages back around his arm.
        ".....nn?"
        "I think I broke the sword."
        "...You THINK you broke it."
        "I broke it."
        Kurama opened his eyes to look.
        The sword was snapped in half, twisted and melted at the broken edges.  Ghostly forms were seeping out into the world.
        "We better make sure they all disperse without causing too much chaos."
        "Go ahead," said Hiei.  "I'm going to take a nap."
        Kurama lay on the floor looking up at him.
        "Ojiisan is going to be very, very angry."
        "Can you sit up?  Or are you just going to lie there and die?"
        Kurama dragged himself to his knees, and then to his feet.  Satisfied by this, Hiei blurred away and was gone.  Kurama immediately sagged back down to the floor.  He was definitely feeling better, but the floor still felt pretty good.  He was exhausted.

January 1st, 11:00 a.m.
        "Oho, Sanae-chan, Kakizome?" asked Obaasan delightedly as Sanae opened up her red calligraphy box and got out a long piece of paper.  She smoothed it out and gave her grandmother a big, cheerful smile.
        "Can't start the new year off without it!" replied the girl with more cheerfulness.
        "Of course, of course, the first writing of the new year is very important."  Obaasan settled in to watch.  Kanae arrived and plonked down her own calligraphy box with a sigh.  Sanae grabbed her arm and dragged her quickly out of the room.
        "Kana-chan, think happy!  Kaasan says we get 500 yen if Obaasan thinks we're doing this because we love tradition and culture."
        "We're doing this because it's homework."
        "500 yen."
        "...Each?"
        "Yeah."
        "...Alright."
        They went back in.  Obaasan was placidly peeling an orange.  Sanae set up quickly while Kanae flipped idly through a calligraphy booklet, looking for something good to write.
        "I already know what I'm writing," said Sanae smugly.
        "What?"
        "Otoko no ko."
        "Huh?  That's only three characters.  I bet you'll get points taken off."  They both gazed at the long piece of paper.
        "Points?" asked Obaasan brightly.  "Are you entering a contest?"
        "Ah, maybe next year," said Sanae equally brightly.  "Well, I'll write it in kana.  That's five characters."
        Kanae sighed and tossed her book aside.
        "Obaasan, what should I write?"
        "Mm...How about 'Docility and Obedience'?"
        Sanae snickered.
        "Yeah, write that."
        "How about 'Diet'," suggested little Shuuichi, sticking his head in the room.
        "Ah, Shuu-chan!  Well, you dears keep working.  I'll make you all some hot cocoa, shall I?" suggested Obaasan, hefting herself up and heading off to the kitchen.
        "Thanks!" they cried.  The girls slumped over their work the moment she was gone.  Shuuichi came in to investigate.
        "Kakizome, huh?   Hey, lend me a piece of paper, I'll write one too."
        "You like doing this?  I don't remember you having any talent," commented Sanae.
        He shrugged.
        "I don't mind.  Anyway, it's homework."
        "Um, don't tell Obaasan that, okay?" asked Kanae anxiously.  He stared at them a moment in confusion and then the light dawned.
        "Your mom's paying you off, huh?  Two hundred yen apiece will buy my silence."
They both smacked him over the head.  Kanae smacked him another time.
        "That's for the 'diet' crack."
        "Alright, sorry, just kidding.  Think I want to break Obaasan's heart?"
        "Where's your brother?" asked Sanae.
        "Wouldn't you like to know," replied Shuuichi, who had no idea himself.  It was better not to wonder too much about it; it was no business of his.  Shuuichi-san always turned up sooner or later with a good excuse.  He got out Kanae's calligraphy things and poured the ink.
        "What are you doing?" she complained as he smoothed out a long piece of paper and prepared to write on it.
        "Just loan me one sheet, okay?"
        "I've only got two."
        "Don't mess up, then."
        The old woman shuffled back into the room, beaming and bearing a tray of steaming mugs.  Shuuichi relieved her of it.
        "Obaasan," sang Sanae sweetly, "won't you write this for me?  Your writing is so beautiful."
        "Oh, my, no, dear, you'll do a lovely job."
        "But I'm terrible!" she sighed as if this pained her.  Kanae and Shuuichi nodded solemnly in agreement.
        "Dear, just put your youthful spirit into it.  Don't worry too much about technique."
        She laboriously began to write.
        "Done!" cried Shuuichi, making her jump and splot ink on her first character.  He had written "soccer" with a lack of regard for aesthetics or even stroke order, but lots of youthful spirit.
        "There's kind of a lot of space left at the bottom," remarked Kanae.  He looked at it and set to work painting a detailed picture of a soccer ball.
        "Are you allowed to do that?" complained Sanae, starting over on a new sheet.
        "What, it's not homework or anything," he grinned.
        "I bet Shuu-san is awesome at this," sighed Sanae in admiration.  "Come on, where is he?"
        "He likes to sleep in," shrugged Shuuichi.  "He must have found some place where he can sleep in peace without anyone, say, braiding his hair..."   Don't worry, he thought with a smile.  I'm your brother.  I'll cover for you.

January 1st, 11:45
        Kurama ventured downstairs.  He had fallen asleep on the floor of the storage room, and he felt stiff all over.  Now he'd have to think up some excuse for where he'd been all morning, maybe all night.  And he was worried about Miko -- had she recovered alright?  And then there were all those dead things that got out.  He sighed as he reached the last step.  It was oddly quiet.  In the TV room, Shuuichi and Kanae were sprawled asleep under the kotatsu.  He lifted the kotatsu quilt, and discovered Miko also asleep under there as well.  Shuuichi was snoring gently.  Kurama continued down the hall.  The door to Sanae's room was partly open, and he peeked in.  She was curled up in her futon.  He passed the room his parents were using.  The door was closed but he could hear Otousan's not so gentle snoring, and Shiori's peaceful breathing.  In the living room, Obasan was asleep with her head on a table, a half-drunk cup of coffee beside her.  Maybe he wouldn't have to come up with any excuses after all!  He tiptoed into the kitchen to see if there was any more coffee.
        "Shuuichi-kun!"
        He nearly jumped out of his socks.  There was Obaasan, wide awake, standing at the kitchen counter and beaming at him.
        "Ah, good morning, Obaasan."
        "Would you like some breakfast, dear?  Something nice and filling.  Pizza mochi?"
        "Pizza mochi?  Um, some rice and soup, if there is any."
        "Oh, yes, yes, how many mochi would you like in your soup?  Three?"
        "One is fine, Obaasan," he assured her.
        "Pull up your shirt," she commanded.
        "What?"
        "Pull it up, dear."  She tugged at his shirt where it was tucked into his waistband.  Kurama pulled it out for her.  She pinched his skin, at his waist.
        "Too thin."
        She gave him three mochi.
        "It's like this every year," she smiled, scooping rice into Kurama's bowl.
        "Like what?"
        "Oh, the young ones wake up quick enough.  But then they're down again.  Every year it's the same."  She laughed.
        "So...nothing unusual happened this morning?"
        "Unusual?  Shuu-chan and Kana-chan ate something called pizza mochi.   Oh, and something spooked the chickens and the dogs.  What a commotion!  But then they quieted down."  She gave him another one of her peaceful smiles and poured him some tea.
 
January 1st, 2:30 p.m.
        Shuuichi lugged his bulging backpack out to the trunk of the car.
        "We didn't get to stay long this year," he complained mournfully.
        "I know several people back in Tokyo who probably have otoshidama for you," tempted his father.  Shuuichi's eyes lit up at the thought of more cash, and he climbed into the back seat.
        The goodbyes were of course long and drawn out, with many promises of letters and calls and future visits.
        "Shuu-chan," called Obaasan, "did you make sure to use the toilet?  It's a long trip, and you know you had that accident one time."
        "Obaasan," wailed Shuuichi, "I was four then!"
        Shiori looked exhausted, but content.  It had gone very well.  Kurama smiled understandingly at her, and she smiled back.  This was the first time she felt she could completely relax  in days.  She was sound asleep five minutes into the drive.  Kurama was thankful to be escaping before anyone discovered the shattered, twisted sword.  He watched the farm house grow small in the distance, the girls waving madly long after everyone else had given up and disappeared inside.  He waved back.  Shuuichi was making faces out of the rear window.
 

                                                                January 12, 199X
Dear Shuuichi-san (and Shuu-chan),
        How are you?  We are fine.  Mother says to say hi to your mother and
every one there.  Actually she says to say a whole bunch of stuff, but she will have to write it herself.  My hand would fall off if I wrote all that.  Guess what?  You
know the lottery numbers on the New Year's post cards?  Miko won a TV.  Can
you believe it?  I got 37 cards and I didn't win anything.  How many cards did you get?  I bet you got alot.  Kana says to Shuu-chan you left a pair of underwear here, was that on purpose?  She made Okaasan wash it 4 times before she would touch it.  Now she is sewing a big patch on the seat.  The patch is a frog kicking a soccer ball.  She will send it when she is done but don't hold your breath, she sews real slow.  Feel free to invite us to Tokyo for summer vacation, we will be available.  Also, Okaasan will be glad to get rid of us for awhile.  Or, invite her too, and Otousan will be glad.  We took Ojiisan to the hospital because he had to much excitement over the holidays, but the doctors are sending him home this week.  He is aparently fine, but just as crazy as ever.  Oh, Kana-chan says it's an iron-on patch, so it's done already.  She will send it with the box Okaasan is sending you guys.  Okaasan says tell your parents she is sending some rice, don't eat that store-bought stuff, and also some oranges and towels because we have a million towels.  Please write soon, we miss you.
                                        Love, your cousins,
                                        Sanae Hatanaka
                                        Kanae Hatanaka
                                        M IK O  HA TAN A   KA
 
 
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