Lost to Reality

There's no one to stop Kagome from marching into the Yahabe corporation. Technically there are guards, but they are no match for her steely glare or purposeful walk as her stilettos echo across the tile. Her hair is pulled back into a perfect bun and her black blazer and pencil skirt yells intimidation.

“I need to speak to the president,” Kagome says, hand falling hard on the desk, the sound echoing off every hard surface and tall ceiling in the fancy lobby. Her tennis bracelet catches the light on her wrist and the diamond on her ring shines menacingly. It's her left ring finger. She's not married, but the diamond is real. She wears it as a determent to gross men and jerks everywhere even if she could break their wrist if they tried to touch her.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist challenges, but Kagome knows she's nervous. She watches the way her finger ghosts under the desk towards the inevitable panic button. She feels the way the security blunders in the wake of revolving door that hasn't stopped spinning from her sheer force bursting through.

“I think he'll make time,” Kagome says, yen fanning out under her hand. The portrait of Fukuzawa Yukichi stares up face stern.

The receptionist is not impressed by the ten bills fanned out on the desk and Kagome doesn't expect her to be. Yosuke owes far more than 100,000 yen, but Kagome won't be deterred. She lays on her most sickly sweet smile and she holds up the briefcase in her hand and gives it a nice shake, “There's more in here.”

The receptionist looks at the guards behind Kagome helplessly, taps her headset, and Kagome smirks, until a hand is grabbing her wrist with the briefcase. She's whipping around free hand ready to break a nose when her left hand is expertly caught.

She blinks into the face of Yosuke who looks miserable. Well, Yosuke always looks miserable. Right now he looks uncomfortable and maybe a little scared.

Yosuke lets go of her right hand holding the briefcase, pulls her closer to his chest with his right hand, and easily picks up the yen from the counter with his left hand as he leans forward pulling her closer to his chest.

“I'll show Umehara-san out.”

Kagome can feel the tension in the air, feel Yosuke's breath tickle her ear as he pulls back with the money in hand whispering, “You aren't helping.”

That sets Kagome back onto her mission. Her heel falls sharply onto Yosuke's foot and that's enough to get him to release her. She's turning around quickly and if she had her hair in a ponytail instead it would have slapped Yosuke across the face.

“I still want my meeting,” Kagome insists, “Tell him I'm coming up.”

She doesn't wait for an answer. She runs for the elevator hitting the up switch praying the door will open and close before anyone can reach her. The office will be easy to find. Top floor, fanciest button in the elevator.

Yosuke recovers as she hears the receptionist talk in a hushed tone into her headset. The elevator dings and Kagome throws herself through the opening doors praying no one is trying to exit. It's blessedly empty but Yosuke catches her wrist as she crosses the threshold. She has no choice but to tug him inside with her because if she doesn't act decisively and deliberately he'll pull her back out or stop the elevator door from ever closing. She's not going to let Yosuke pride stop her from saving him.

“What are you doing!?” he whirls on her when the door closes. She's holding the door closed button down as she glares at him trying to figure out how to push the button for the top floor. She's not about to set the briefcase down for him to take.

“Helping you,” she replies, shifting the briefcase behind her body.

“Kagome,” Yosuke says, and there's the stress in his eyes, his hand pushing back his messy hair.

He's dressed in a sports coat with a bow tie under the collar of his dress shirt, and even though this is how he always dresses these days, Kagome can't help but see the kid in a dirty hoodie with glasses askew that she fell in love with.

“I sold your stuff if it makes you feel better,” Kagome tells him, “All the expensive stuff you don't need. All those receipts and IOUs that aren't hidden as well as you think they are. You gave me a key and you're a heavy sleeper.”

“Christ, Kagome, that's not the point. This is stupid and dangerous and you need to leave.”

He's scaring her but she's not going to admit that or let it show.

“Geeze, Yosuke, I know it's not all of your debt but it's a start. If someone gives you a push into that big step now then maybe you'll start making the changes you need to do to get your life back on track.”

Yosuke looks away for a second, biting his lip, and Kagome takes that chance to push the top button on the elevator.

“You can't meet him Kagome. You can't be here. This is my mess. I'll fix it. I promise. You just have to leave.”

He's begging her, and maybe it wouldn't be so hard to push the briefcase into his hands and tell him to march into that room himself except Kagome knows Yosuke. He doesn't have a spine. That's why this loan shark is feasting all over Yosuke drawing him deeper and deeper into his layer. Yosuke doesn't get paychecks. He gets IOUs.

Deep down he's soft and she loves him for that, but soft isn't going to fix this. She'll fix this and apologize later over cup ramen as Yosuke is finally free.

“It's alright, Yosuke,” Kagome soothes, left hand coming to rest on his chest, and slowly she moves away from the control panel positioning Yosuke with his back to the door. His eyes catch the sparkles on her hand and wrist.

“My mother's,” she offers for the jewelry is very much real and nothing she or Yosuke have bought for her.

“And I'm glad you care, Yosuke,” she continues, her hand going up to rest on the side of his face, to cup the side of his face. In her heels she closes the height gap between them making it far easier to close the distance, “but I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. I'm not so easily tricked.”

She's kissing him, smothering any protest he has. And there is a protest but the shock freezes him robbing him of those words he wants to mumble into her mouth. She pushes forward deepening the kiss and Yosuke's back rests against the door. Hands at his side brain still short circuiting and unable to search anywhere greedily. Only able to respond in kind to the demands her lips and tongue are making against his own as she brings her hands back down to his chest to tease at a button on his shirt.

His eyes are closed but her eyes are watching. She moans as the floor number changes covering the ding as the elevator stops it's ascent. Then she's breaking away from him as if to catch her breath but her hand is pushing him hard and strong. The support of the door behind his back gives away as the door opens and he's falling through the air, arms coming up and she expertly dodges him.

For all he's grown he's still her awkward lanky teenager who never quite grew into his own body. His legs stumble under him unable to catch his footing and gravity pulls him down, down, down, to the floor. His face is stunned and betrayed as he's falling, bottom hitting the ground and wrists absorbing impact. The door is already closing as he blinks up to her. She has the door closed button jammed down under her finger.

By the time his brain catches up, it's too late to scramble forward. Too late to throw a leg desperately in the path of the closing door. He looks at her like she's going to her death and she looks at him like he's being dramatic because he is. She can take care of herself. She'll negotiate his freedom and payment plan.

The door closes and only one light is lit up on the control panel now. When Yosuke wasn't looking, she hit two. Created the opportunity to separate him from her instead of hoping for chance to allow the elevator to stop on another floor on its own.

She lets out a breath, pushes Yosuke betrayed, hurt, confused, face out of her mind. She pats her hair to make sure it's still perfectly in place. Straightens her blazer and skirt and watches the numbers tick higher and higher as she ascends into the heavens. She's on a mission and she can't get distracted by any doubt Yosuke tried to thrown into her mind.

The doors open to plush carpets and a decadent hallway. The onyx door with gold filigree and crystal handles beckons imposingly. Kagome marches down the hallway the fall of her heels absorbed and unable to echo menacingly down the hallway.

She raises her hand to knock but before she can the door starts to swing out towards her. Not fast enough to catch her and knock her off her feet and into the wall, but fast enough the intent is clear. She steps to the side, accepts the nod from the men in a black suit and black sunglasses, and approaches the desk inside at a much more professional pace.

She offers a bow, briefcase clasped in front of her, as she stops an appropriate distance from the desk. The back of the wing-back desk chair faces her but she has no doubt that Yahabe, the name on the face plate and the company, sits facing the floor to ceiling windows.

“Umehara Kagome,” Kagome introduces, and when she straightens she comes face to face with a small man in a gold suit. His hair is dark the same shade as Yosuke with green eyes that match. He's not Yosuke but there's something all too familiar about him.

“Kagome-chan,” the man, Yahabe, greets and his voice is high. There's something unnatural about him and his casual informal greeting sets her on high alert. Yosuke's warning floats back to her as she hears the guards shift and block the door artfully.

Yahabe is leaning forward, eyes predatory, as he catches the glint of her jewelry.

“Yosuke's been spending my money wisely,” he nods approvingly, before he's pulling out stacks of money from his drawer. “Another five million ought to be appropriate.”

Kagome swallows. She only has a million yen and that's barely making a dent in Yosuke's debt. Another five million will drown him.

“Yosuke politely declines, sir. I'm actually here about settling Yosuke's debt. I've brought a modest payment as a show of faith.”

Yahabe tsks, wagging a finger at her, “That won't do. I love money, and I love owning people. Sure Yosuke's one billion yen debt with the interest that keeps rising would pay handsomely, but I'm not with a shortage of money. I make so much more from free labor and peoples attempts to bail out their loved ones. Money laundering, tax evasion, I can afford to keep throwing out money because it keeps exponentially growing. Losing Yosuke would actually cost me money.”

“That's horrible,” Kagome replies. She wants to call him a monster, she wants to do so many things, but she knows he has the upper hand. She knows one wrong step and she becomes a prisoner like Yosuke.

“I'll still take your payment,” Yahabe says, gesturing to her briefcase, “and that paltry amount will go against Yosuke's debt, but will be washed away by the five million I'm about to give him as a reward.”

“That's not a reward,” Kagome utters, softly, horrified, unable to stop herself from speaking.

Yahabe's green eyes fall on her, solemn, and evaluating.

“I won't lend you money, Kagome-chan, you're too smart a girl for that, but I'm a business man and I'm open to deals. I'd allow two people to work towards a debt in this case. I'm sure you know an area you'd excel in that would bring in much more money that Yosuke could have ever dreamed off.”

“You're a monster,” Kagome replies at the insinuation of what Yahabe wants her to become, what he wants her to sell of herself.

“I can be merciful, Kagome-chan,” Yahabe says, and Kagome doesn't know when he went to standing on his desk, his arm reaching out towards her cheek, towards her hair but still far to short to close the gap. The intent is there and she shudders at the ghost of the feeling, “I'm willing to trade. Your freedom for his.”

There's banging on the other side of the door. Yosuke must have finally made it up the elevator but the guards don't budge. The door doesn't budge. The air is frozen and stale in the room as time stands still.

“He'll tire himself out,” Yahabe shrugs, and now he's sitting at the edge of his desk, legs kicking.

“What are you?” Kagome asks, fingers trembling, because this is not a man in front of her. This is not a human. This is a despicable being that loves playing with and manipulating people.

“The devil,” Yahabe answers easily, “Yosuke made a deal with the devil. Pathetic little kid when I found him, but we spoke the same language, money. I built a world up in his image. Showered him with what his heart desired. Crushed him under his own greed. It'd be easier if he didn't love you Kagome-chan. You plant ideas in his head. You made him miserable in this reality. His soul is not too much to ask for in return for wealth and happiness.”

“Is that why?” Kagome asks, unable to fully form the sentence.

“I look like this?” Yahabe asks, perking up, “Told the kid it was destiny, we'd be unstoppable together. Fool brought in more and more like a pyramid scheme and his guilt just keeps burying him further and further under. I could look like anyone under my contract, but Yosuke's the one that just keeps paying and paying. The CEO's precious son who works so hard to earn Daddy's favor and maybe the company one day. He's not respected. He'll never be respected. He's a fool. A scapegoat that everyone hurls their burning hatred at while I sit up here untouched soaking it all in.”

“Then all this?” Kagomes asks, recalling how easily the five million yen appeared.

Yahabe waves his hand, and there's a weight around her neck, diamonds winking up at her when she dares to look down at the expensive strings of diamonds now adorning her collar bones.

“I'm the devil, but I'm also a god. Everything created by me in my image. Yosuke's the only real thing here. His soul is all I want. His soul is so tasty. You agree don't you Kagome-chan? You want it too no matter how much I try to twist him and make him disgusting in your eyes.”

“Why Yosuke?” she insists, tears in her eyes. Yahabe says Yosuke made a deal with him, but why would he? This devil, this snake, before her words keep changing. Reality keeps altering. All Kagome knows is this is bad, bad, bad. There's no truth except for the sinking sensation of how entirely helpless all of this is.

“500 years ago one of Yosuke's ancestors made a deal with me and offered one of his future descendants as payment. I've been keeping an eye on the Kamogawa's and Yosuke is the one I've chosen. He's the last but he's also the purest. A great life ahead of him if I hadn't manipulated everything against him. He'll live forever bound to me, Kagome-chan. This is his hell and he'll never escape. He was just happier when he thought it was heaven. Before you ruined the illusion. You're his angel Kagome-chan and we can't have that.”

There's tear in Kagome's eyes. She can't save Yosuke. She knows if she accepts this deal that Yosuke isn't free. That she's a pawn playing into Yahabe's hands. She has to leave. She has to keep living outside this world and find away to fight this for Yosuke. An exorcism. Surely and exorcism will send all of this crumbling.

“Ah Kagome-chan,” Yahabe speaks, turning her attention away from the door where the banging hasn't stopped and Yosuke is yelling her name on repeat.

“I know I told you you had a choice,” Yahabe says softly to her, beckoning her forward and her feet obey against her will, “but choice is an illusion. I'm the devil after all. I lie and take what I want.”

Her feet stop at the desk and Yahabe is standing again. They are the same height and his hand reaches out and rests easily on her cheek. His thumb slowly wiping away the tears that have to started to spill out as his eyes draw her in unable to look away,

“The moment you entered this building you were mine. You are the one thing I've been unable to take. You are Yosuke's hope. You are the disobedience that flares within him. Yosuke knows you are his weakness, knows how much I crave you, but he is weak and I am strong. You came through those doors on your own. Believed so much in your self righteous quest, but I control everything here. You'll never leave Kagome-chan.”

“Then set him free,” Kagome begs, “You can have me just set him free.”

It's wrong. She can't stay because of she stays Yosuke will be distraught, but they both can't be captors. She's already in Yahabe's clutches. All she has left is to beg for Yosuke's freedom. Make a deal with a devil that she can only hope will be honored.

Yahabe laughs, “Your heart is as cold as mine Kagome-chan. Setting him free is the cruelest thing I could do now. But that pain will be so delicious,” Yahabe finishes, licking his lips.

Yahabe is pressing her close to him now so he can whisper in her ear, “How much do you think you're worth to him? One trillion yen?”

“Priceless. I'm priceless,” Kagome screams, “You can't put a price on love.”

“Priceless,” Yahabe chuckles, pulling away enough that he can now rest his forehead against her own locking her eyes in his intense green gaze.

“Priceless is a debt he can never repay. I like it. You're mine now, Kagome-chan. Just surrender. Just forget. I'll always look like your precious Yosuke so you're never alone.”

Kagome's lips betray her. The words 'yours' and 'I surrender' form on them even if the sound is drowned out by the door bursting open, yanked back. She doesn't hear a scuffle. She doesn't hear much of anything. She's drowning in green eyes in front of her. Green eyes she's always loved. There's a forehead casually leaning against her own. There's a finger rubbing soothingly at her check. She's drowning. Her head's emptying. Green eyes she's always loved. Something's wrong. No, something's right. To be loved like this. Something she's always wanted. She's—

“Kagome!” a voice yells.

Kagome. She's Kagome, that's right.

Kagome turns, something falling from her fingers. Something opening on the floor. An arm is around her waist protectively.

A boy, hair disheveled, bow tie lopsided and half undone as buttons fall clumsily away on his dress shirt. He's dressed nice yet looks homeless. She shivers and steps back, presses further into the desk as the arm around her waist holds her even more reassuringly.

The man looks broken as he looks at her, yells, throwing his arm out, “Kagome, get away from him.”

“Yahabe, who is that man?” Kagome asks, confused.

“Trash that wandered in from the street, Kagome-chan.”

“Kagome,” the man pleads again before he throws accusing eyes at Yahabe, “What did you do to her?”

Kagome tries to take a step forward but the hand holds her there. Her vision is swimming.

“Yo...suke...?” Kagome questions unsure.

His eyes brighten, “Yeah, Kagome, it's me Yosuke. Let's go home.”

She turns unsure to Yahabe, biting her lip, “But?”

“I know it's confusing, Kagome-chan,” Yahabe says, brushing a hand across her forehead, “but Yosuke is a man who's hurt you. It's better to forget him like you had. I don't know how he got past the restraining order, but I'll remove him. You're safe here Kagome-chan. You're safe with me. Yosuke's just jealous you chose me. Jealous you don't love him.”

“But he looks like you,” Kagome says, hand reaching out and Yosuke tries to reach up and grab it from where he's on his hands and knees begging.

Yahabe pulls her arm back, holds her hand against his heart and he holds her in a loving embrace.

“My brother,” Yahabe agrees, “My poor, sick, little brother. It's why I'm as merciful as I am, but I won't let him hurt you again, Kagome-chan.”

“Hurt me?” Kagome asks confused.

“He's lying, Kagome,” Yosuke yells, tears on his face now, “I don't know what he did to you but I'll fix it. This is just a bad nightmare. You'll wake up and you'll still be exasperated with me but you'll be okay. You'll be safe.”

“I think that's enough,” Yahabe says snapping his fingers and the guards spring to life, “I've indulged you enough, little brother. Now don't waste this last freedom I'm granting you.”

“This isn't freedom,” Yosuke yells as the guards hoist him up and drag him out of the room by his arms, “whatever deal she made take me instead. Take me and set her free. She's innocent.”

“You're delusional, Yosuke,” Yahabe calls, and the doors shut.

Kagome is shaking. She's confused. Yosuke. A boy in glasses. Her heart. Her head. What's going on?

“Shhh, Kagome,” Yahabe soothes, his hand is in her hair, her head on his shoulder pressed up against his cheek.

“I'm sorry you had to see that. You're safe here. You're happier here. Just forget okay? It's better to forget.”

It's better to forget echos in her head as Yahabe keeps petting her hair and plants a kiss to her temple. Her breathing eases. Her shudders stop. The ring Yahabe gave her winks up at her from her left ring finger.

They're married. Of course they're married. Yahabe loves her and she loves him. Yosuke is nobody to her. Just someone who covets everything his brother has. Is upset at the success of his brother in the face of his own failures. Yosuke is just a jealous, dirty, pathetic man who she owes nothing too. He'll taint her and ruin her if she gives him a chance.

Better to forget.

It's better to forget Yosuke.

“Better to forget,” she agrees, eyes dull and clouded like ice.

From above her head Yahabe smiles, eyes predatory, directly at the camera who's feed he knows Yosuke is watching right now.

He's won. He has both. He'll rewrite their future and their reality all to suit him. Over and over and over again he'll break Yosuke down repeatedly.

Kagome's not stupid. She's seen the IOUs scattered around Yosuke's messy apartment when he thinks no one's looking. They're loans really, with interest rates so high they're only meant to bury someone alive. She doesn't know why Yosuke feels the need to flash around money he doesn't have. He could have less debt living out of a modest apartment and dressed in the simple attire of his youth. Instead he's 21, dressed to the nines, and suffocating under whatever self imposed persona he has.

She's never given the impression she's into money has she?

Yet she doesn't say no to the single shoulder dark blue dress that hugs her perfectly and has a slit up one leg. She should turn it down because she see's the IOU for it peeking out from under a fashion magazine on the coffee table, but she looks so damn good in it. If Yosuke wants to destroy himself then she should get to have one night where she doesn't have to worry about him.

When Yosuke comes out of his bedroom she half expects him to be in a coat with tails.

“Something wrong?” Yosuke asks, adjusting his bow tie and unaware of what she's just been looking at.

“Just not what I was expecting. It's modest for you these days,” Kagome answers, taking in the black suspenders over his white dress shirt. Her eye's glance at the IOU as she nudges it further out of sight and she has to wonder if all of his budget for whatever this is went to her.

“When you're crashing a party it's best not to standout,” Yosuke answers, his arms snaking around her waist and a little lower than she'd prefer.

“We're crashing a party? I thought this was for your job?”

What job she's not sure. She's pretty sure Yosuke should be homeless yet he always defies all odds and she allows herself to keep following it blindly.

“It is,” Yosuke answers, before his eyes narrow, “I wasn't invited.”

“You're not even going to get in the door.”

If they are dressed this nicely then it has to be a high class event. Someone is going to be watching the door ensuring only those on the guest list enter.

“I can just reattach the tags and your can return it and get your money back.”

“Keep it. It looks good,” Yosuke whispers pulling her closer.

She has her clutch up and blocking Yosuke before his lips can try anything. She loves him, she really does, but she also doesn't like whatever he's become. She wants the old Yosuke back. She's not going to let him kiss her with those lying lips.

“I'm not stupid, Yosuke,” she replies, prying his fingers off easily so she can reach down and grab the IOU and shove it at him. “You've got hundreds of these littered around. I thought your mom taught you good spending habits?”

“Everyone has a little debt, Kagome,” Yosuke shrugs.

“This isn't a little debt. Do you even have any money? Do you think I won't look at you if you're poor?”

“It's complicated,” Yosuke huffs.

“It's not,” Kagome answers poking a finger at his chest, “I don't care what you can or can't buy me Kamogawa Yosuke. I care about the nerdy little boy I went to school with before whatever this is happened.”

“Then you're wasting your time, Kagome. He's dead. He's dead because nobody cared, but now somebody does.”

“Using you so you wrack up a debt isn't caring, Yosuke, and you're wrong. I've always cared about you.”

“Well you shouldn't have,” Yosuke yells, and Kagome's not sure the last time she's seen him get truly angry. It's a crack in the mask. It's a glimpse back at the boy who faded away.

“We can get this under control,” Kagome softens, her hand cupping Yosuke's face.

“I'm not taking you down with me,” Yosuke mumbles, not meeting her eyes.

“That's not your choice, Yosuke. It's mine.”

“Just keep the dress and leave. I don't feel like going out anymore.”

He's defeated and she doesn't know why. She's always reaching her hand out to him and he always refuses it. She doesn't understand why he doesn't want to be pulled up from whatever pit he's in.

“I'm sorry,” Kagome whispers, but it's too late. He's shut down again. He's closed off. What was supposed to be another nice evening is ruined before it's even started. It seems all they do is fight. Maybe it's all Yosuke thinks he deserves.

She leaves him because staying never accomplishes anything. The IOUs keep piling up. He refuses to listen to reason, and Kagome can only break her own heart so much.

The IOU for her dress sits crumpled in her hand. She'll return it or at least she'll try her best to return it without the receipt because Yosuke would never give that to her. She'll find the rest of the money as well. She can't pay off all of Yosuke's debt but she can at least pay off this one. She can march into the building of the Yahabe corporation and see at least what Yosuke has gotten himself into that he insists he can't get back out of.

The bitter cold of the Hokkaido winter was nothing compared to the ice that had been floating around her ever since she arrived here. Her classmates wasted no time in freezing her out. She was the daughter of the dam builder. She was the daughter of the man who would drown them all and ruin their livelihoods. She was only ten but she understood.

She took it. She bore it. She didn't mind as she lost all feeling. She'd smile and respond to the name Damuko even as it was laced with icicles to pierce her. There was only one bright spot. Only one person who made that nickname filled with hate and disdain bloom with warmth and flowers of the spring. She latched onto him because he was just like her. Misery loves company and maybe she was selfish to think they could be happy together.

Horohoro built a dam far faster than her father ever could have. Far taller and far more insurmountable too. She bore it as all the warmth was blocked off from her. She gave him time and space until she couldn't anymore. Her own ice prison she had built to protect herself slowly cracked under the heat of frustration and anger.

Only then did Horohoro waver. Only then did he run from her. She chased that spark of light and warmth with everything she had. Hand out stretched ready to grasp it before it disappeared for good once again.

He lost her easily in the forest. He knew these lands like the back of his hand. She was a trespasser. She was unwanted, but she couldn't turn around and go back. She couldn't give up. The swirling snow prevented all escape.

She'd go to the butterbur field and wait until spring. It was the only thing she had wanted to see. It was the only thing she knew Horohoro would return to. Maybe when he saw her smiling under a giant butterbur leaf he'd forget all the stupid and ugly things swirling around them. She just wanted to be happy. She just wanted him to be happy. Was that too much to ask?

She kept trudging through the snow as her steps grew heavier and heavier. The oppressive cold blanket weighing her down grew lighter and lighter as she grew warmer and warmer. Maybe Horohoro really did come back for her. Maybe he'd let her climb onto his back as he carried her back to civilization telling her how troublesome she is. Maybe they could go back to normal.

She stumbled and the snow caught her as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Blue and black shoes danced outside her periphery. Horohoro's shoes. He came for her. He probably wouldn't say he was sorry, but if he yelled at her then she would know he still cared.

“Horohoro?” she called weakly.

No answer came.

She squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them again she was meet not with his shoes but with the tiniest people under butterbur leaves.

“I'm dying aren't I?” she asked her silent vigil.

They didn't answer. They only watched.

“A fitting end for the daughter of a dam builder,” she muttered, as she felt lighter and lighter like she was a balloon full of helium floating away.

“I can't go. I have to know. He wouldn't just turn his back on me. Not without reason.”

“But I suppose it's too late,” Tamiko commented, looking down at herself unmoving and becoming blanketed by snow. “Did I even make it to the butterbur field? Will he ever find me?”

The kokkuropi, as she quickly realized that's who they were, were insistent tugging on her. Trying to guide her somewhere. Trying to move her further and further away from Horohoro.

“No!” she screamed. “He's a shaman. He can find me.”

“I know he can. He has too,” she sobbed, “because it can't be true that he hated me. It can't be.”

She didn't know how long their stand off lasted. She only knew she was completely buried in the snow. No one was going to find her until the winter thawed under spring. Until hearts could warm again and feel compassion.

“He'll love a bound spirit even less,” a rough voice spoke, “It's time to pass on little one.”

“He doesn't love me anyway,” Tamiko argued, knees clasped to her chest.

An age old weary sigh sounded above her.

“There is one way. You can become the spirits of the forest and the butterbur leaves you love so much. These are the nature spirits the Ainu work with and protect.”

“I can be with him,” Tamiko sniffed, wiping her tears as she looked up to taking in the biggest kokkuropi she'd ever seen.

“Not as yourself, nor will he see you as yourself. Not for as long as his heart is cold as ice and he has locked everything away.”

“But I can make sure he's happy. One of us can be happy right? I was never supposed to be the happy one anyway.”

The spirit didn't answer her. She knew reality would be the other way around. If Horohoro couldn't see her for who she was that meant he'd still be tormented by something. She was the only one who would be happy. She'd be something he liked and always by his side, but it would all be a lie. She would be living a lie, but at least she'd be living.

“I'll do it,” she stated, standing tall and proud, “I'll protect him with everything I have.”

The spirit nodded as he grew larger and larger. Actually, all the spirits were growing larger and larger. That wasn't right though. She was the one that was shrinking. She was the one that was changing as a butterbur leaf fit perfectly between her fingers.

“Kuru~” she trilled, as she fell just as silent as the other kokkuropi.

–

Horohoro didn't come when spring came to the mountain. He wasn't there as the snow turned to rivers and gave way to green grass, but she kept waiting just like Gororo told her.

Spring turned to summer and finally a head of blue hair appeared,

“Kuru!”

“It's time to pick a spirit guardian, Horohoro,” a man spoke, “You've put it off long enough.”

Horohoro didn't answer the man, but instead remained there standing sullen. She wasn't sure why the normally boisterous boy was so somber

“Remember,” the man whispered, but she heard it easily on the breeze, “the winner of the Shaman Fight gets their dream granted.”

She didn't know what his dream was, but she'd support it no matter what.

Horohoro nodded, stealing his reserve, and finally he noticed her. Finally she could float over to him and into his cupped hands that bring her to rub against his face.

“Kuru~” she greeted

There's a lot that Yoh learns in the time that passes between reaching Patch Village and the start of the next round of the Shaman Fight. There's everything stored in the chou senji ryakketsu and somehow that's the easiest part of what transpires in three months. Training gives him something to focus on. It gives him a goal. It gives him something to work towards.

The first thing he learns is the story of his birth. His father lets himself in the window one night and Yoh wakes up rubbing sleep from his eyes to his father kneeling at the foot of his bed. It's maybe the only time Yoh has ever seen his face as the whole story spills out. There's grief, remorse, and blame all dancing across a face much older than the one Yoh's seen in pictures.

Yoh listens to it all. It's the only thing he can do. Hao is his twin brother as much as he's his ancestor. They were both supposed to die that night until Hao proved his might and Yoh was spared to fulfill some destiny. He knows he won't walk down the path his grandfather wishes. He'll walk down his own path to stopping Hao, and if one look at his father is anything to go by then Yoh knows it's the same path his father is desperately trying to find back. Ever since the inferno, he's been trying to hack his way through the jungle, but Yoh knows he'll never make it. The vines will only part for one and deep in Yoh's heart he knows he's the only person that can do this.

Yoh can feel the next surprise is coming when he picks up the anxious twitching of Anna's fingers when she stands arms crossed overseeing their training. He notices her quiet hushed conversations with Faust but he doesn't pry. If he really thinks about it he probably knows what this is all about because he's well aware of their nighttime activities, but ignorance is bliss. He pretends it's not happening until two weeks later when Anna wakes up with an urgency as she rushes to the bathroom. She doesn't close the door and Yoh holds her hair as she heaves into the toilet.

“Morning sickness,” she grumbles.

Yoh keeps his mouth wisely shut. He's going to be a father. He's just not sure if he's going to live to see that. Hao's still a wild card that he has to figure out, and he's not sure if that threat from so long ago about eating his soul still stands.

At some point Anna's done and she leans back into him. They stay like that on the bathroom floor, before the telltale sound of Horohoro looking for trouble draws near.

“Don't tell anyone,” Anna warns as they separate.

“Only if we win,” Yoh agrees.

When this is all over, then they can finally process it. Then they can finally celebrate the little miracle they've created.

The last surprise comes at the end. Anna and him go to find Silva to give him the chou senji ryakketsu now that they are done with it. As a descendant of Hao, Silva has just as much right to the teachings inside.

Silva takes the book, and despite what he and Anna have agreed to, Yoh doesn't know why he says it. He tells Silva he's going to be a dad. Maybe because Silva is family, or maybe because Silva so quickly became a father figure to Yoh in a void his own father couldn't fill.

Anna squeezes his hand tight in a warning, but what's more startling is the way Silva's own face falls. There's a hollow laugh as he pulls his hand down his face.

“Silva?” Yoh questions, before Silva gestures to two chairs for them to sit in. The air is tense.

“You know the truth of the Shaman Fight don't you?” Silva asks, “I'm sure he wrote every secret in here.”

“No,” Yoh answers slowly, “He never revisited it after his first life, and there's no secrets about the Shaman Fight in there.”

“We're all fighting to die.”

“That's stupid,” Anna interrupts, but her grip betrays fear.

“There's a reason no one's seen the previous Shaman Kings. There's no one walking this earth with god like powers. To become Shaman King you must die,” Silva continues

“Now it just sounds like a scam. The Patch rounding up Shamans to kill them. The only problem is Hao wouldn't be sticking around or fighting so hard for a scam,” Anna scoffs.

“He cheated death once. He might think he can do it again a second time.”

“He's already cheated death twice. This is his third life, Silva,” Yoh corrects.

“The ten Patch Officials die with their king. They serve him in the Great Spirits. 500 years ago Hao was supposed to fulfill that duty, but he slipped out of reach. He hid in the bowels of hell like he's so good at and not even the Shaman King could reach him. With how much furyoku he has now maybe he truly thinks he can use the Great Spirit without dying and becoming one with it.”

Yoh props his chin up with his free hand, “Well becoming Shaman King isn't an option because I've got too many reasons to stick around here, but dropping out isn't an option either. Something has to be done about Hao because he can't continue the way he is.”

“You're going to save him?” Silva looks at him incredulous.

“Well I learned an over soul in ten minutes. This can't be that much harder. The way I look at it I'm the best option. I'm his twin, and I know how to get rid of the one thing that so desperately haunts him.”

“I already took his onis. You're going to have to try something else,” Anna rolls her eyes.

“He tried to hit on you for that. Besides, you and I both know that's not what erased it.”

“I'm not sharing,” Anna states firmly, standing up.

“I wouldn't ask you too,” Yoh replies, face soft following her lead. “I don't know what all of this going forward is going to look like, Silva, but I think maybe we can change things. Hao escaped his fate once. Maybe no one has to die. Maybe we can live and raise our kids. You're going to be a great dad, Silva. Everything'll work out.”

When he first became Shaman King there was an invasion into his private society because Yoh couldn't leave well enough alone. Hao won't admit he liked or appreciated it. Instead he crossed his arms and grumbled about it the whole way. He kept grumbling even as his society finally emptied out and it was just him and the throne he had coveted for so long.

Quiet. Blissful quiet and solitude, even as his heart panged in fear that maybe everyone was out of his reach once again.

He opened his eyes at the slow and steady thud of a cane echoing in the silence followed by the shuffling of feet and dragging of cloth.

“Still kept that limp I see,” Hao taunted, “Missed me that much?”

“Wanted to always remember that pathetic look on your face when I bested you,” Yabisu spoke, drawing into Hao's line of sight, “It's been an exhilarating 500 years and I look forward to 500 more.”

“Patch Officials can't become Shaman King—“

“They're supposed to serve their King in the Great Spirits,” Yabisu interrupted cutting him off, “And we all saw how well that worked out didn't we?”

Hao clicked his mouth shut because it was true. He cheated the system then, and he had planned to cheat the system to take the throne that rightfully belonged to him. Yohken had just proven to be a road bump. A 500 year set back.

“Then you also understand that I'll be taking that back.”

The leer on Yabisu's face was lecherous as madness danced in his eyes eyeing the throne.

“You need a majority to enact the Flowers of Maize. I doubt anyone will side with you.”

“Yet you forget there are two kings that faced you down and came out triumphant. You forget that every king before them has been able to observe you. 500 years is an awfully long time to gossip. This day was inevitable. Eventually you'd cheat enough that it would be basically handed to you and then it would become our god given duty to take that all away from you.”

Hao scoffed, “The earth sure went to shit in the 500 years I was gone. Why'd they hand it back over to you? I'll know they're serious when they send Jesus or Buddha here to challenge me. Kings the world remembers. Kings the world still follows. You're just a long forgotten whispered conspiracy theory.”

Yabisu raised an eyebrow, “Am I a conspiracy theory? Remember who brought the technology to the Patch. Remember who started the Shaman Fight?”

Hao rolled his eyes, “You're not Grey Saucer.”

“No,” Yabisu conceded, “but Grey Saucer's type is so easy to push around. So easy to control. The real mastermind has always been in the shadows. Have always been controlling things under a human guise. I heard you're going to be an uncle. Congratulations by the way even though you won't be there to see it. I hope he's not afraid of lizards. I'm afraid he might be running into a lot if he upholds your ideals.”

“You're delusional if you think you can touch him.”

Yabisu smirked, “The lizards might be closer than you think. I've been planning for this just as long as you have. I moved all my pawns into place ages ago and I'll continue to move them right under your nose. Enjoy it while you still can Aho-sama.”

Just like that Yabisu disappeared and Hao was once again left in silence. He was left to seethe. He was left to think over everything.

There's a particular coldness to the air even though it's still summer. There's a gloom that hangs over the city painting everything gray even as the sun shines brightly in the sky. For the first time ever, Manta is lonely. He's really, truly, lonely.

He was lonely before Yoh walked into his life but he had never noticed. He had never bothered to pay attention to it. He had friends, or well people he called friends, and he was so busy with school there was no time to be lonely, except that had all been a lie to himself.

He just didn't know he was lonely until Yoh walked into his life and painted over all the grays with color.

As soon as he ran into Yoh and started seeing spirits there was no turning back. Life was vibrant. Life was fun. School didn't really matter because there was so much to do outside of it.

Then the fight with Faust happened, but Manta refused to accept that loneliness. He refused to let the gray back into his life. He fought tooth and nail for his friend and it paid off. Turns out they are both bad at this whole friend thing not having any real practice before hand.

Now though, now it's different. They're still friends, they'll always be friends, but now Yoh has gone where Manta can't follow. Manta's left behind because while he can see spirits he's no Shaman. He has no place in the Shaman Fight. He has no place following Yoh even if his father has all the money in the world.

Funbari becomes gray.

The shrine they'd offer their prayers too in the past becomes empty. The people there fade from existence. Only Manta. It's like he's the ghost now. It's like a part of him died when Yoh left. Maybe he's the wandering restless spirit waiting for Yoh to come and soothe his soul so he can rest in peace.

The ice cream shop they ate at before Yoh dashed into a burning building to save the children trapped inside holds no sweetness. The ice cream cone he orders halfheartedly tastes bland in his mouth. There's no sweetness, only cold

Aoki Records holds no Soul Bob. It's never held Soul Bob. Yoh's the only person interested in the music and it was special ordered for him every time. Manta just wants to see the familiar cover art. He just wants to listens to the one artist Yoh's so passionate about.

He doesn't ask the cashier to order him a Soul Bob album. Part of him questions if Soul Bob even exists or if this is all made up in Manta's head. Maybe he's in a coma. Maybe he never truly recovered from Faust and now everyone's given up on him. No one is sitting by his bed side whispering words to him and painting his world.

He pinches himself and feels the sting. This is all real, unless the fact you can't feel things in your dreams is a lie too.

He legs take him to the cemetery next. The cemetery where everything started. The cemetery where Yoh loves to cloud watch and star gaze. It's empty which should be normal except it's not. It's empty of all it's inhabitants. No ghosts jump out to great him. Even if they were all resting, Okita never misses a chance to regal his story about fighting a bear. He's always drunk and he always forgets to leave out the part where he lost and the bear took his life. Instead every time he tells the story he's the winner. He still doesn't pass on though because deep down he knows the words that fall from his mouth are lies. Yoh says it's impossible to find the spirit of the bear. He says Okita will be stuck like this until he can accept his death. Yoh also speculates that will never happen because even in death the spirit is never sober.

He looks at Amidamaru's new memorial marker and at least that is real. At least in all the gray and damp chill this can never be taken away. Yoh's lucky he has Amidamaru with him. He's lucky he has everyone with him. Manta selfishly wishes Mosuke had stayed behind. Then Manta could have someone. Then Manta could know and remember this is all real.

He offers a prayer before he leaves. He doesn't know why. Maybe Amidamaru can hear him wherever he is. It's been one day and Manta is so lonely. He doesn't know how many more day's it will be.

Something whispers back on the wind

Three months

Manta's heart shatters.

–

His mansion is big and lonely. It's only him and Tamarazaki here. Maybe he should have followed his father's wishes. Maybe he should have gone to study in America. Manta shakes his head no. That would have been even worse. That would have been even more lonely.

His bed dwarfs him and provides no comfort. There's no warmth under the blankets just the chill of the air conditioner running. Manta swears it's colder than the thermostat claims.

He turns on the TV in his room for anything. Any static to drown out the nothingness and emptiness. He's not watching it. He's just floating like he's been floating all day.

A flash of blue catches his eyes and a split off dual pompadour. Manta scrambles up right in his bed, eyes blinking rapidly but the image doesn't disappear.

There's no words to describe it. It's the impossible. There's no way he should be seeing this yet something somewhere answered his prayer. There's color. There's life. There's Horohoro and Ryu. They've already got into a commotion on the first day based off Ryu's hair but they are alive and safe. They are stuffing their mouths in some food eating competition and Manta can only laugh.

Ren's in the background arms crossed and a glare that could give Anna run for her money. Manta's wiping away a tear because all of this would happen.

And there, beside Ren, is Yoh. He's waving and has the biggest grin on his face. Manta swears for a moment their eyes meet. For a moment Yoh can see him and that smile and wave is for Manta only. Manta knows he's crying as he waves back but he doesn't care. He misses his best friend. He misses spending every day with him. It's only one day and Manta's already such a baby about it except he's not a baby. Yoh may never come back and that scares him the most

The feed ends with Horohoro managing to bump into the camera terminating the signal.

It's alright though. Everything is real again. Manta can feel the warmth of his bed. He'll pray at Amidamaru's grave every day if that's what allows the magic of his TV. Someone somewhere is listening to Manta. Some divine being somewhere is smiling down on him.

A few days later Anna tracks him down. A few days later he's on his way to America to see Yoh.

“You two are really bad at being apart,” Anna comments, offhandedly when they see each other.

“Not like you're any better,” Manta fires back.

“Redseb-nii,” Hana glowers at the older boy, his pudgy hands on his hips, “That's not an oni, and it's not Setsubun.”

“It's a witch,” Redseb replies taking the green mask off. It's a woman's face covered in warts and a crooked nose.

“You didn't scare him,” Seyram snickers, behind her hand.

“That doesn't look like Macchi,” Hana replies, unimpressed.

“That's right,” Macchi agrees, appearing from around the corner, slinging and arm around Redseb so she can rub her fist mercilessly against the top of his head.

“Ow,” Redseb whines, but it goes unheard.

“Why do you want to look ugly, Redseb-nii?”

“I don't know, Hana, I think it's an improvement,” Macchi states, finally releasing him.

“Redseb's trying to be funny because it's Halloween soon,” Seyram explains.

“Redseb-nii's a weenie?”

Seyram and Macchi both burst out laughing while Redseb turns to him, “Listen, Squirt, it's a holiday about free candy.”

Hana's eye's light up.

“This isn't America, bird brain. You can't dress him up and go trick or treating door to door,” Macchi rolls her eyes.

“Where's my free candy, Redseb-nii?”

“Yeah, where's Hana's free candy?” Seyram gangs up on her brother.

“Here, Squirt,” Macchi states, picking him up, “I'll show you the cool things you can do with real witches. Don't you want to know how Jack got his head?”

“I can play with knives?” Hana asks.

“No, but if your extra cute I'll let you put the pumpkin guts on Redseb.”

Hana nods, a gleam in his eyes as he sticks his tongue out at Redseb.

Seyram gives her brother a knowing look.

“You know,” she teases, “Hana's always cute.”

“I'm locking him out of my room for the rest of his life,” Redseb growls.

“And you're never leaving? What if he does the bucket of pumpkin guts outside the door trick?”

“Traitor,” Redseb hisses.

“I'm your sister,” Seyram winks, “You'll always lose.”

–

“Were'd you get this pumpkin from. It's HUGE,” Hana asks, studying the orange pumpkin that's easily half his size.

“Don't worry about it,” Macchi states, grabbing a marker, “first we have to decide what kind of face you want it to have.”

“That's easy,” Hana says, “The face Redseb-nii makes when Seyram-nee and I prank him really good.”

Hana demonstrates his best face, “Like this.”

“Alright,” Macchi chuckles, “Hold still.”

“Oh, you're making Redseb?” Seyram asks joining them outside.

“It's the face he'll make when I throw the pumpkin guts at him,” Hana agrees, excitedly.

“Time to cut the top off,” Macchi states, “You stay with Seyram.”

Hana nods sagely watching Macchi take the knife and start cutting around the top of the pumpkin to remove the top. When she's done she motions Hana forward.

“That's the inside of a pumpkin?” Hana asks, reaching in, “It's all sticky and slimy. Cool.”

“It has to all come out,” Macchi states, as Seyram slides a bucket over to him, “For Redseb” she winks.

Hana gets to work transferring the insides of the pumpkin from the pumpkin to the bucket watching all the seeds move and fall.

“If Redseb-nii ate a seed would it grown inside him like a watermelon?” Hana asks.

“Hana, you know that's not true,” Seyram points out gently.

“Nah, it's only not true because Redseb-nii's not brave enough to try. If he eats it and no watermelon, then I'll believe him. I wanna carve the pumpkin from Redseb-nii's tummy.”

“We'll get him with a watermelon seed next year,” Macchi states, trying to get Hana back on track, “Now watch the magic of your Redseb pumpkin.”

Hana sits at rapt attention as Macchi works on carving the pumpkin into the essence of Redseb. More and more parts come off to make the different facial features and Hana stares on perplexed.

“How do I tell Macchi this isn't very cool?” Hana whispers to Seyram.

“It's not done. Be patient,” Seryram tells him, rubbing some pumpkin on his cheek.

“Cool,” Hana whispers, grabbing more to squish between his fingers.

“Alright, non-believer,” Macchi states, and Hana comes running over, “Time for the finishing touches.”

She places an artificial candle inside and the face of the jack-o-lantern is painted in a yellow glow.

“It's just like Jack!” Hana points, “Redseb-nii into the pumpkin. Oversoul!”

“Just like that,” Macchi agrees.

“Do me! Do me! I want one next!” Hana calls excitedly, “With this face!”

Seyram grabs a pumpkin while chuckling, “Alright I'll make you next.”

“Halloweenie's the best!” Hana cheers, “I'm going to make Redseb-nii fill mine with candy!”

“He'll have to use a special spell to turn all the pumpkin guts you bring him into candy,” Seyram agrees.

“So if I don't put it on Redseb-nii then I get candy?”

“More candy than you could carry,” Seyram agrees.

“We're going to need more pumpkins, Macchi,” Hana states, seriously, turning to her.

Finding out he could see ghosts was not an easy thing to accept, but Manta likes to think he handled it pretty well. He definitely didn't scream or have a break down. Nope. Not at all.

He was calm and cool when Amidamaru appeared and he continued to be calm and collected as all the ghosts in the cemetery appeared and Yoh continued to go back to it day after day.

Totally cool as the one drunk ghost who died fighting a bear told Manta he was no bigger than a cub that he swore he totally didn't try to fight either. Manta's pretty sure he got what was coming to him even if Amidamrau told him the “bear” could have been anything in the ghosts drunken haze.

What's not so easy to accept after a few months is finding out that Yoh lives in a haunted burned down inn filled with ghosts. Also, he has a fiancée and she's a holy terror but Manta's not going to think on that right now.

“Relax, Manta, Anna said you can stay,” Yoh calls from where he's setting up the futons.

“I'm not scared of her.” A lie. He didn't see Yoh or Anna all summer, but he definitely didn't spend it thinking nice things about her. He also didn't try to track Yoh down with his father's money for fear of his life. Part of that was also self preservation because he knew his parents wouldn't like Yoh's family history.

“Is this your first sleepover?” Yoh asks, eyes wide like a puppy. It isn't for Manta but he doesn't like the feeling he's getting that this is a first for Yoh.

“They won't leave,” Manta mutters softly, waving his hand in the general direction of all the ghosts floating lazily in the room.

Yoh blinks, the realization coming to him slowly before his eyes scan the whole room.

“I can tell them to leave,” Yoh states, already making a shooing motion.

Manta sighs, “They'll just come back.”

“They won't,” Yoh answers, but his voice holds uncertainty as his eyes shift to Amidamaru debating telling him to keep watch.

“Go home if you're scared,” Anna's voice comes from nowhere as she slides the door open staring down at Manta.

“Can you knock?” Manta yells, jumping up, “What if we were changing?”

“You weren't,” Anna answers like it doesn't excuse anything that just happened.

“Come on,” Yoh sighs, “Be nice. This is all still new.”

“It's been four months.”

Yoh gives her a look.

“Fine,” Anna relents, “I'll keep all the ghosts out of the room for the baby.”

“I'm not a baby, and this haunted sleepover doesn't scare me,” Manta retorts, a fire in his eyes.

Anna smirks at him and that's when Manta realizes he played right into her hands.

“How do you do it, Yoh?” Manta asks flopping onto the futon and bedding, “She got me to do exactly what she wanted in two minutes flat. I want to strangle her and yet you still look at her with moons in your eyes as you complain about her in the same breath.”

“Anna's...complicated,” Yoh settles for scratching his cheek. “but everything she does it because she cares. It's just kinda hard to see.”

“You know she did this for you right? She could care less about me.”

“That's not true. It's very important that you feel comfortable especially since I probably accidentally awakened your shamanic sight.”

“I do feel comfortable,” Manta argues.

“One day you're going to travel somewhere and you might wake up with a ghost in the room because someone was murdered there and the hotel just kept quiet because what someone doesn't know won't hurt them. What will you do then?”

“Are you talking form experience?” Manta asks, suddenly creeped out.

“Nah. I hardly ever traveled, and Grandma's inn doesn't count because she's a shaman and most of the dead spirits were on the mountain anyway.”

“But for your information, I'd ask for another room. Money talks. I can't soothe an angry spirit like you can. There's no way I'm staying in that room no matter how used to this I am.”

“Then I guess Anna's special training was for nothing,” Yoh comments casually before his eyes widened in realization.

“Manta,” Yoh whispers, “We finally beat her at something. I finally got a win.”

Manta smacks his pillow in Yoh's face.

“This is my win. You have to keep working for your own. And we aren't telling her because I value my life.”

“Good point,” Yoh agrees, settling into his own futon after turning out the light.

“Hey, Manta?” Yoh whispers as the insects buzz outside, “Thanks for staying.”

“You're the one that told me to get used to your weird ghost life,” Manta answers, with no heat behind his words.

Yoh chuckles, “I guess I did. But I'm still glad we're friends.”

“Me too.”

Gray. It was the color of the sky as the clouds hang dark, heavy, and full of rain waiting to unleash at a moments notice.

Tamao didn't pack an umbrella. Her divination told her she wouldn't need it, even when she asked again as far off the horizon had loomed dark and foreboding.

Now, like a single flip of a switch, it changed. The water poured down as everyone else ran outside umbrellas in hand.

She couldn't ask anyone. The Asakura estate was far and no one liked her. She could see spirits. She was different. She was quiet because it was easier to blend in that way.

She left the shoe cubby not bothering to change and instead walked back to the classroom. Maybe it would stop if she did her homework. Maybe she wouldn't have to walk home soaked.

Her math homework taunted her. It was so much lonelier now that Yoh was at the middle school. She had no one to walk with. No moments to pretend she lived a life of normalcy.

Had he even packed an umbrella?

The door to the classroom opened and Tamao had a faint apology ready to mumble on her lips before she was greeted not by a teacher's reprimanding voice but another.

“I thought so,” Yoh commented, standing in the doorway, “Ponchi and Conchi looked way too happy about something this morning.”

“I'll never be as good as Yohmei-sama,” Tamao whispered.

“No one will ever live up to Grandpa's expectations. I don't think he's ever had fun once in his life.”

“You sh-shouldn't s-say those things,” Tamao stammered, softy.

“And you shouldn't listen to Ponchi and Conchi. Come on. Let's go home. I brought an umbrella.”

She packed up her things one by one before heading towards Yoh and out the door of her classroom. She traded her shoes at the shoe cubby and true to Yoh's word he had an umbrella to shelter the both of them.

“You didn't have too,” Tamao mumbled, as they stepped onto the wet ground and the rain drips fell plink plink on the umbrella.

“I wanted too,” Yoh answered.

She didn't let her heart race. She didn't let herself think about those things. It was silly. He would marry Anna. Tamao wasn't worthy. She wasn't chosen. Yoh was doing this just because he was nice and nothing more.

“I think I'm going to Tokyo,” Yoh stated, suddenly, “Somethings calling to me there, and I don't think I'm going to find anything here. So don't forget your umbrella okay? Tokyo's a long way away.”

Their last walk home from school together.

The estate was about to become so much emptier.

“Okay,” Tamao agreed, as her heart broke.

Hao sat there quietly, contemplating everything as he slowly turned his hand in front of him. Every single perfect coincidence lining up to give him exactly what he wanted.

Yoh could have not been born, and sure Hao likely still would have become Shaman King, but would his mother still have been out of his reach? Would Ohachiyo still plague his mind giving him no reprieve? No one else there the day of his crowning really cared about him. They cared because Yoh cared. They saved him because Yoh wanted to save him. Without Yoh would he have been just as disgruntled of a husk as Yabisu?

 It wasn't completely true. Opacho cared about him, but she stood no chance of saving him while still so young. She opened his heart. She helped, but she was just as powerless as everyone else to calm his raging heart. Only Yoh could. Only Yoh did.

 There's other things that could have gone wrong. Yoh could have developed reishi, no Yoh  should   have developed reishi. He didn't against all odds and Hao was thankful he spared him of that. He spared him of a life just like Hao's own. Hao and Anna both knew you couldn't save someone else when you can't even save yourself. If Yoh had developed reishi then all three of them would have been miserable. All three of them would have been destroyed.

 Anna. What if Hao had found her first, found her in the snow before Kino could take her in and under the Asakura fold. Would Matamune still be here? Would Matamune still be walking around with his gift? But conversely, would Hao have been saved? Yoh wouldn't know about reishi. He wouldn't know about his power to change hearts.

 Yabisu could have meddled with any of this and he didn't. A perfect storm so easy to send off course. All roads led to Hao being Shaman King but no other road lead to him be happy, well not that he could call this happy. There was bureaucracy and a revolt. He still couldn't have things his way.

“What are you thinking about?” Yoh asked, softly, grabbing Hao's hand and bringing it down out of the one spot Hao's eyes were focused and unfocused at the same time.

“You. Me. How easily we could have had none of this.”

“Everything will work out, remember?”

 That silly phrase Yoh always said. That phrase that seemed to blanket him and work as his super power. That phrase that whispered back to him in another life.

 Don't cry, Asaha. Everything will work out. The gods and spirits will provide for us as long as we believe.

Yoh's eyes scrunched up, studying him.

“Are you okay?”

Yoh's hair was brown like his own. It wasn't honey blond. Yoh was the other half of his soul, not his mother, yet those are the same words his mother always said. Whenever something didn't seem to go right, she'd say everything will work out as they offered up a prayer. His mother's magic phrase.

“She never left,” Hao whispered, and Yoh cocked his head in confusion.

“My mother,” Hao elaborated.

“Of course not. We explained that. Remember? You just couldn't see her through all the hate.”

“No,” Hao retorted, grabbing both of Yoh's hands like a lifeline, “She's been protecting me this whole time. Orchestrating everything.”

“I guess,” Yoh replied, not convinced.

“Your stupid phrase, Yoh. That was her. It was always her.”

“I'm no more your mom than Anna is.”

“You aren't,” Hao conceded, “but you are me. You're the me that walked hand in hand with her. You're the me that could always see her. You may not have remembered but your heart was open to her. She worked through you. She protected you.”

Yoh's eyes softened.

“I'm me and you're you, but I'm glad you found happiness. I really am, but sometimes we have to learn how to let go.”

Hao glared at him.

“I'm not fourteen anymore. You can't always live in the past. That's your problem.”

“I'm lonely here,” Hao admitted, softly.

“Then walk on the earth again. Live again. Who says a god has to be confined to here? Who makes the rules if not a god?”

“You're insufferable, you know that?”

“You tell me that every day,” the vestige of Yoh replied with a cheeky smile.

Anna's world is gone. Stolen out from under her. She can no longer reach it. She can no longer grasp it or hold it in her hands. It's dust. Crumbling away. Never able to be put back together.

The bed is empty.

It's cold and lonely. No amount of blankets provide warmth or security. There's no familiar heat at her backside. There's no familiar arms holding her close.

Just nothing.

She doesn't cry. She's never allowed herself to cry. She pushes it down like she always does. She pulls the blankets closer watching the pale strip of moonlight work across the floor.

She's empty and cold. Just like she began, and so too she shall return.

There's a rustle in the room and her blankets lift. She doesn't dare look. She doesn't dare hurt herself again, not even as gentle hands go to stroke her hair.

If she doesn't think about the impossibility of it she can pretend it's Yoh if only for a moment. She can pretend he's not gone. She can pretend that nothing has changed. If she doesn't turn over she doesn't have to see the face of an impostor.

“You should sleep,” a voice whispers, shattering everything. Hao doesn't know how to stay silent. Hao doesn't know how to leave her alone in her grief.

It's his fault. Everything is always Hao's fault.

“Leave,” Anna threatens.

“He wouldn't want this.”

“You're right, he wouldn't want you in bed with me.”

Hao sighs, but he stops petting her hair. She can feel the distance as he rolls onto his back, but never enough decency to leave her bed.

“This isn't living, Anna.”

“I'm perfectly happy, thank you very much.”

“You aren't.”

“No one asked you.”

She hears the groan as Hao's arm falls against his forehead.

“Yes, they did.”

“Tell him to stop being a coward and face me himself.”

Hao mutters something exasperated under his breath before she suddenly finds her vision filled with his too painfully familiar face. She doesn't know how he got her to face him and she'd slap him for it if that wasn't exactly what he wanted. Instead she glares at him and glares at his hand so carefully keeping her in place.

“What was that dumb lesson you and Yoh tried to teach me? That applies here too. You want to see him? Then stop being stupid.”

Ann scoffs at him, “Don't compare this to your mom complex.”

“Keep it up, Anna, and you'll start hearing voices again. You'll lock your heart far far away again.”

“I hate you.”

It's the only answer she can come up with. It's not her best and the smug look in Hao's eyes tell her he knows it as well.

“Breathe again, Anna. Live again, Anna. Trust me, this isn't the answer.”

“I'm not sleeping with you.”

“In your dreams,” Hao answers, with a roll of his eyes.

She's not sure she buys it, and she's not even sure she means it. There is a weird attraction there. One that's all off kilter now that Yoh isn't there to balance it out anymore. She wants and doesn't want Hao at the same time. It's too soon for all of this.

“You're overthinking this,” Hao rolls his eyes.

“It's not the Heian period.”

“It's not,” Hao agrees.

Anna studies him. He hasn't done anything. He hasn't crossed any lines, so maybe it's okay. Maybe it's okay to say what she says next.

“I guess some company wouldn't be so bad even if it's you.”

“As kind as ever,” Hao comments, pulling her close.

She ignores him. She allows herself to breath. She allows herself to cry.

No one knew. They hadn't told anyone in the camp that Yamato protected and governed. It was too soon. They didn't want to tell anyone for fear of losing their little one before they could be born safely into this world. They'd wait until Gekko started showing to announce that their new family would be growing by one more. Yamato would do everything in his powers to protect Gekko and their unborn child from his enemies.

“I'll be fine,” Gekko told him as he lingered at the door, “You're meeting's important and I can take care of myself. You've been teaching me.”

He wanted to cross the distance and hold her. He didn't want to leave as something in his gut screamed he shouldn't.

Instead he settled for, “You shouldn't. What about the baby?”

Gekko's hands went to her still perfectly flat stomach as she offered a soft smile, “Our baby's strong, just like us, but if anything happens Ultimo will protect us.”

“Where is Ultimo?” Yamato asked.

He didn't need to be at the meeting, but he hadn't seen him in awhile either. It was perfectly safe within their camp, but usually Ultimo didn't stray to far from him.

“He's doing the laundry,” Gekko answered, “He should be back soon. So stop worrying and go.”

“Alright,” Yamato agreed, as Gekko made a shooing motion at him.

It was silly. She was perfectly safe here. There were no enemies within their walls. There was no one in his camp with grievances, yet why did his gut keep insisting he shouldn't leave.

He couldn't bring himself to leave, and Gekko just gave him a wry smile before she got up and walked over to him.

“I'll be here when you get back,” she promised giving him a quick kiss, “Now go,” she finished, shoving him out the door.

He went, looking back at her over his shoulder as she smiled and waved at him. Why did this feel like the last time he would see her?

–

He couldn't sit still during the meeting. They had an important plan to enact tomorrow.  Another group was encroaching on their safety and had to be dealt with. He needed to focus but he just wanted to pace. The other's in the room could sense it but they wisely kept their mouths shut. They pushed on because the sooner this was done the sooner he could leave. The sooner he could ensure Gekko and his child were safe and no one would hurt them.

It took longer than it should have, because he couldn't focus. They had to rehash the plan several times for stupid mistakes he wouldn't have made if he was focusing. The sun sunk lower and lower as he grew more and more on edge.

Finally it was over, and it took everything in Yamato to not go running directly to his and Gekko's house. It took everything in him to remain polite and courteous to everyone who called out pleasantries to him in the night.

His facade crumbled the moment he drew near his house. The moment he smelled death that was so familiar to him. He ripped his door open praying to the gods that what he feared most wasn't true.

His foot hit blood that spilled across the floor as moonlight illuminated a standing figure over another sprawled on the ground.

Gekko was not the one standing. The silhouette was not her, nor was it one of an enemy.

“What did you do?” Yamato asked, his voice trembling before he screamed, “What did you do, Ultimo?”

“I did what had to be done, Yamato-sama. You said nobles are evil, and she is one of them,” Ultimo answered, voice even.

“She isn't,” Yamato argued, “She's not like them.”

“Her heart is full of greed just like them. I can see it. Jealousy can see it. She would have been next.”

“You're wrong, Ultimo,” Yamato stated, “She wasn't like them.”

Ultimo shrugged, “My mission is to protect you, Yamato-sama, and I did what had to be done.”

Yamato's fists trembled. He wanted to fight Ultimo. He wanted to destroy Ultimo, but he couldn't. Ultimo would always win. Ultimo was things Yamato didn't understand and Yamato was flesh and blood that could easily be ended. Even if Yamato was sufficiently able to destroy Ultimo the mysterious stranger Dunstan would show up and repair him. Gekko and his child would still be dead. Nothing was going to bring back his family.

“Leave, Ultimo,” Yamato spoke, voice hard.

Ultimo didn't make a move to leave.

“Leave me alone with my grief, and my wife and child, so I may make proper arrangements.”

Ultimo's face changed from uncaring to his boyish concerned face.

“I didn't know, Yamato-sama,” Ultimo whispered.

“And what difference would it have made? You would have just waited until after the child was born. Now leave.”

Ultimo must have sensed it in his voice for he disappeared. He didn't try to argue or beg. He disappeared blood dripping down his blades, and Yamato knelt next to his wife. He pulled her into his lap, closing his eyes as he wept for her and their child. He wept for the family they would never be. The family she so desperately wanted even if he had been hesitant.

He reached for his own sword. Everything would be fine. His own generals could take care of everything in his steed. They'd still have Ultimo even without him. He'd vanquished most of his enemies at this point, anyway. Ever one would be safe, and he could be selfish.

There was nothing left for him in the world. Everything else laid beyond the mortal realm.

With his family in his hands he ended it.