TIES THAT BIND

By Talya Firedancer

Standard disclaimers apply! YYH belongs to the very talented Yoshihiro Togashi and Shonen Jump comics, not me; I’m just a lowly little fic writer. So please don’t sue me. I’m still working off my debts in monthly installments. . .

WARNING! This fic has yaoi content – and a LEMON scene, so if you don’t like that kind of thing bail now.

Ties that Bind

"It’s such a beautiful day, ne, Shuuichi?" Shiori smiled at him, then looked out off the second-story balcony at the park across the street.

"It’s lovely," Kurama agreed. *The perfect kind of day to frisk in the park with Hiei,* he thought to himself, smiling.

"You should be sharing this beautiful weather with someone younger than me!" Shiori teased him. "Take some pretty young lady to the park, ne?"

He chuckled, and she laughed with him.

Kurama brushed back a stray wisp of brilliant red hair and smiled at his mother across the table. He loved their weekly teas together; he knew it was considered unusual for a mother and son to have such a close loving relationship *after* the son had moved out, but he didn’t care. Shiori was the closest thing he’d ever had to a family; she *was* his family.

She and Hiei, that is.

He smiled at the thought of his little fire demon, eyes a bit far away. He could sense his lover’s youki, not too terribly far off, and knew that Hiei was watching over them, a silent presence.

"Dreaming of some young lady, Shuu-chan?" Shiori teased him.

Kurama’s laughter nearly sputtered into the teacup he’d raised but he bit down firmly on his lip, stifling it. Hiei couldn’t exactly be considered "some young lady. . ."

Suddenly an absurd vision of Hiei dressed up in a high school girl’s fuku danced in his mind and he had to clamp down firmly on the laughter again.

"Ah. . .no, ’Kaasan," he replied, smiling just a little. "There aren’t any young ladies in my life right now."

Shiori made a little face at him, picking up her own cup of tea and sipping at the warm liquid. "What about that nice secretary at work, Ryoko? I’m sure she wouldn’t have any objections!"

"It wouldn’t be appropriate," he assured her, a gentle smile still on his lips. *Hiei* would certainly have objections, he laughed to himself. "I wouldn’t date anyone at the workplace."

"Ah," Shiori pronounced, disappointed. "Ne, Shuu-chan, don’t wait forever! I’m looking forward to playing with and teasing my grandchildren some day!"

Kurama contemplated Hiei’s reaction to this little piece of news.

"Aa. . .I’ll think about it, ’Kaasan," he replied, sipping at his tea. "I’m just not interested in looking for anyone right now." *I already have who I want.*

Shiori shrugged elegantly, turning the conversation to lighter topics.

They parted with the usual smiles, hug and a kiss and Kurama left Shiori’s and walked down the street, unerringly heading for a nearby tree that towered over the neighborhood. He put a hand on the bark, feeling out with his youki the strengths and weaknesses within the tree, the gentle but unyielding strength of it.

A flicker of black on the edge of his vision alerted him to his lover’s presence, and he turned.

Hiei stood there, arms folded over his chest, tipping his head to eye him with that unblinking ruby stare.

"Hello, Hiei," Kurama greeted the fire demon with a little smile.

"Why do you spend so much time with her?" Hiei grumbled, unmoved.

Kurama quirked an eyebrow. "Jealous, love?" he teased, stepping towards him and brushing his fingers over Hiei’s cheek.

Hiei stepped away from the caress. "Don’t call me that," he snapped automatically.

Kurama shrugged, running his fingers through windblown red locks. He wasn’t hurt by the curtness; Hiei just detested public displays of affection. Probably certain that, at any minute, Yuusuke or Kuwabara might pop out of a bush and snap pictures, shrieking with laughter.

Actually, he wouldn’t put it past Yuusuke.

"I was on my way home. Care to join me?" He slanted a hopeful, inviting smile at the scowling little Koorime.

"Hn."

But there was a tiny answering smile on Hiei’s face.

Kurama dropped his keys on the counter on his way to the bedroom. They *hadn’t* headed straight home, after all; they had passed by an ice cream stand and Hiei, scowling, had in a roundabout way let Kurama know he wanted some of the "sweet snow." He knew Kurama frowned on his stealing anything in the Ningenkai.

He’d had his apartment for almost two and a half years now and Hiei still steadfastly refused to enter by the front door. Kurama found it amusing.

The Koorime was perched casually on the futon when he walked in, already stripped to the waist, eyes gleaming up at Kurama.

"You take too damned long," he growled.

"In a hurry for something, Hiei?" Kurama teased him, walking over to the edge of the futon.

"Hn," Hiei replied, grabbing the front of his shirt.

"Please don’t bite the buttons off again," Kurama implored in a pained tone. "I should’ve made *you* sew those back on."

Hiei’s eyes twinkled up at him mischievously, but his fingers undid the first button and not his teeth. He pressed his mouth down onto the flesh he bared and Kurama closed his eyes as Hiei’s fingers and mouth worked down further, sliding the shirt off him and tossing it aside.

"Mmh," he encouraged him eagerly, as Hiei’s mouth closed over a nipple, his fingers pinching at the other, the contrasting sensations rippling through him in little shocks.

He tried to push Hiei back on the bed, but the fire demon’s shoulders were like rock underneath his hands, and he was immovable. He growled deep in his throat, then moved up, hands toying with Kurama’s nipples as he dug his teeth into the sensitive flesh at the joining of shoulder and neck, marking him as his mate the way he did every time they made love.

"Ah!" Kurama threw his head back, liking that.

Hiei’s tongue moved over his skin as his hands moved caressingly low, hovering at the waistband of Kurama’s pants. He began to place light, nipping kisses over Kurama’s skin, then applied more pressure, sucking and swirling his tongue over his chest and the hardened little nubs of flesh.

Kurama made an impatient noise and he took his hands from the small of Hiei’s back to push own his pants off. Hiei growled again, swatting at his hands and clamping down hard on a nipple. Kurama yelped and hastily put his hands back where they’d been.

"Okay, okay," he murmured huskily. "I get the idea." A sensuous smile curved his lips.

Eventually Hiei decided that he had sufficiently kissed, mouthed, and tongued over every portion of Kurama’s chest and throat, and in a swift motion grabbed him and tumbled him onto the bed, pitching him onto the futon. Kurama lay startled as Hiei straddled him quickly, pinning his wrists above his head and claiming his lips.

The warmth of Hiei’s tongue forced his lips open, slid inside for a leisurely exploration. Kurama moaned encouragingly, then tested Hiei’s hold against his wrists. Hiei nipped sharply at his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood and Kurama gave up, relaxing onto the bed.

Hiei broke the kiss, scarlet eyes gleaming down at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back, letting go of Kurama’s wrists, then lifted an eyebrow. "Don’t move." Kurama grinned mischievously. "Or I’ll tie you up," he threatened. Kurama’s grin widened.

Hiei scooted back, still straddling Kurama, freezing for an instant and closing his eyes as the mounds of their arousals rubbed against each other. Slowly, he rocked against Kurama, and they both shuddered. A soft moan fluttered past Kurama’s lips. Deliberately, Hiei did it again, shifting and pushing the hardness of his groin against Kurama’s, once, twice more, their breath speeding up together.

The youkai moved back further, tugging at Kurama’s pants.

Shiori had cleaned up from tea with her son and was about to make out a grocery list when she noticed that Shuuichi had left his briefcase beside the table.

"Ah, how careless!" she scolded her absent son, picking it up. "He’ll probably need that to work on over the weekend."

She almost decided to wait to give it to him until the next day, then remembered that Shuuichi-kun had a soccer game that she’d promised to take him to, and watch.

With a sigh, she finished making out her grocery list, then picked up the briefcase and left the house. There was a small store near Shuu-chan’s apartment that she could pick up most of the items at.

As she set out for her son’s apartment, she noted once again what a beautiful day it was. Shuu-chan really should be off in the park somewhere, with some pretty young lady. Shiori was concerned for her son. He was nearly twenty now, and still showed no signs of bringing a girlfriend around the house for her to meet.

She was starting to become worried that her husband’s suspicions about Shuuichi’s preferences were right.

Shiori had considered the matter at length. Eventually she had decided that she would be able to accept it, if her son were. . .if he wasn’t interested in women. She would probably have to keep the matter from her husband of course; he would never understand or let her hear the end of it, probably insist that Shuuichi never have contact with his son Shuuichi-kun ever again. But Shuuichi would always be her little Shuu-chan.

The thing was, Shuuichi just didn’t seem interested in *anyone.*

"Ah. . .ah. . .gods, Hiei," Kurama panted, writhing against the sheets as Hiei tormented him with his fingers and tongue, yet leaving his hardness completely untouched. He was sorely tempted to lift his hands from where Hiei had placed them above his head and. . . but no. Hiei would probably bite his *thigh* this time. And then tie him up.

Although that wouldn’t be that bad. . .

He grinned at the thought, then gasped as Hiei enveloped the throbbing head of his member in his mouth at last, simultaneously reaching up to work his fingers into his crack.

He felt like he was composed of pure sensation as Hiei’s head moved up and down, and barely noticed as the fingers brushed against the little pucker of flesh down below. They took the edge off, however, when Hiei slipped them in, a finger at a time. Kurama tensed, grabbing involuntarily at Hiei’s fingers, and Hiei distracted him by moving his mouth in a few deep strokes, teeth scraping lightly over the flesh.

When at last he relaxed and began to rock back to meet the impaling fingers, started to move his hips a little faster, Hiei pulled them out and took his mouth away, leaving him hanging.

"Hiei. . ." he breathed, but remained utterly motionless as Hiei reared up above him, hands fumbling at the white leather belts at his waist.

Shiori reached her son’s apartment, and knocked lightly on the door. No response. She reached into her handbag for the extra key that Shuuichi had given her, and opened the door.

Shiori made her way into the apartment, clutching Shuuichi’s briefcase. "Shuu-chan?" she called, softly. There was no answer. Hmm, maybe he was gone – so she would just put it on his desk, and he would see it when he got back. She walked towards the bedroom.

A soft moan fluttered through the air, reaching her ears even through the door.

Shiori smiled fondly. He *was* here, after all – from the sound of it asleep, and having a nightmare the way he had as a child. Even as a grown man, her Shuu-chan could still have nightmares. She paused, hand on the doorknob.

And froze, as a deeper, answering groan reached her ears.

That was *not* her Shuu-chan.

She was riveted to the doorknob, unable to tear away. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want her husband’s spiteful suspicions confirmed. She hesitated in agony, knowing it would be a violation of her son’s privacy.

She *had* to know.

Shiori cracked the door open just barely wide enough for an eye to peer through. What she saw –

Sight and sound broke down into a disorienting reel of isolated, disjointed images. Her stunned mind groped to comprehend.

Shuuichi’s face, drawn up in a tight little moue of concentration.

His legs wrapped around the waist of the body moving rhythmically above him.

The hoarse panting breath coming from each of the figures – both of the two *boys* entwined passionately on the bed.

The smaller, spiky black-haired boy she had only seen a few times, lying atop her Shuu-chan – her *son* -- lying between his legs.

The soft, needy gasps of Shuuichi’s "uh. . .uh. . .uh. . ." as the buttocks of the boy on top of him rose and fell steadily.

Shuuichi’s red hair spread out against the stark white pillow.

The soft liquid sounds of flesh moving against flesh.

Suddenly the black-haired boy’s head snapped up and he craned his neck, looking over his shoulder as he continued to move his hips in tight thrusting circles into the boy beneath him **my little Shuu-chan,** her mind whispered numbly, and Shiori hastily closed the door as quietly as she could, afraid that she had been heard somehow.

She was unable to move for an instant, hand still clutching at the doorknob, her mind paralyzed with shock. It was one thing to find out one’s only son had a lover. . .another thing entirely to find out that lover was another male. . .

It was a galaxy apart to have the evidence suddenly shoved in front of one’s eyes.

The sounds from within the room grew more urgent, her son’s moans rising steadily in a crescendo that formed a name, "Hiei!" over and over, counterpoint to a low, rumbling groan.

The briefcase fell from her hands as Shiori darted from the apartment blindly, unable to assimilate it all.

Kurama bit his lip and a soft moan fluttered past his lips as Hiei entered him, carefully but not too slowly, the youkai groaning as he buried his length inside him. Kurama wrapped his legs more fiercely around Hiei’s waist, seeking to pull him closer, tighter, his arms still extended above his head.

Once fully seated within his depths, Hiei began to thrust into him and Kurama rocked to meet each roll of his hips, panting. He wanted to reach up and grab Hiei and his hands twitched.

Hiei drove into him, a particularly vicious jab, and Kurama gasped, eyes fluttering. "Don’t," the youkai warned, baring his fangs. Kurama acceded with a little sigh.

As Hiei’s hips started to move faster Kurama began to gasp. "Uh. . .uh. . .uh. . ." escaped his lips and Hiei grinned down at him, his face starting to go slack with abandon.

Then abruptly his head snapped up and his brows creased together in a fierce scowl as he sought to look over his shoulder.

"Hunh?" Kurama inquired in a startled groan.

Hiei shook his head, still frowning, moving even faster now inside of him and Kurama moaned as one of the youkai’s hands closed over his hardness, pumping it. Kurama tried to thrust up against him, moaning Hiei’s name over and over, trembling on the edge.

They exploded together as Hiei’s hips pushed against him even more intensely for a few moments, then he relaxed on top of him.

Hiei slid out and kissed him, biting his lip gently. Then he sat up in bed, scowling blackly at the door.

"What’s wrong?" Kurama asked him, brows drawing together in a frown, stretching languorously beside him.

"Your mother was just here." Hiei glared down at him evilly. "Don’t you spend enough time with her already?"

Kurama choked.

"WHAT!?" he screamed, leaping out of bed. "Is she still here!?"

"No, she’s gone," Hiei sniffed. "Good thing. I hope she didn’t expect me to stop just because she was watching us."

"SHE WAS WATCHING US!?" Kurama bellowed. He snatched up his pants, struggling to pull them on as he hopped over to where Hiei had tossed his shirt.

Hiei sat up on the futon, crossing his arms and eyeing Kurama coolly. "You’re going back to your mother’s?" he demanded.

" I *have* to, Hiei, she’s probably uh, pretty stunned and hurt by now. . ." Kurama was aghast. Of all the ways he had thought of telling Shiori about Hiei, this option had NEVER occurred to him.

"Hn. Tell her I don’t appreciate being spied on," Hiei sniffed.

Kurama glared at him, pulling his shirt on quickly. "That’s all you care about, isn’t it?"

Hiei raised his eyebrows. "Was there something else?"

He sighed heavily. "I’ll see you later, Hiei."

Hiei glared right back. "You’re just going to *leave?*" the naked little Koorime demanded, looking outraged.

"I have to!" Kurama snapped, and ran out. His mother was probably very upset by now, and hurt, and he. . .he had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Shiori stumbled up the street, hurt and shocked.

It wasn’t so much that her son was, now very obviously to her, gay. It was the fact that he hadn’t told her – her Shuu-chan, her baby, the son she’d thought was closer to her than anyone in the world besides her husband – he had been keeping this secret inside of him, and had never once let it slip.

All those teasing references she’d made about dating pretty girls, that he had brushed off. Why, this morning she’d mentioned *grandchildren* to him. . .

He must’ve been laughing in his teacup at her.

She had slowly been steeling herself to accept the possibility that Shuuichi might be gay. It had, after all, been twenty years since he was born – and no sign yet of any interest in girls, and he *did* seem very feminine at times. . .

What truly hurt her was that he hadn’t told her.

There was a lover in his life, *beyond shadow of a doubt* a lover, and Shuuchi hadn’t seen fit to tell her, to share any part of that life with her. Shiori ran blindly, heading for home.

"’Kaasan!"

*Shuuichi!?*

Shiori ran harder, not wanting to face him, not wanting to let him know how she had violated his privacy, and how in turn he had violated the trust between them, by not telling her something so important.

"’Kaasan!" His voice was closer now, imploring and every bit as surprised as she felt, and Shiori stopped. His lover must have told him that someone had been there.

*His lover.*

The thought of it pierced at her, the knowledge that someone was closer now in his heart to Shuu-chan than she was, and she hadn’t even seen it coming. She hadn’t realized it would hurt so much, to see the last vestiges of his childhood fall away. So abruptly.

"’Kaasan?" His hand touched her shoulder, and she spun to face him, trembling, clenching her teeth around tears.

The look on his face stunned her again. He looked close to tears himself, his wide green eyes trembling, realization scrawled on his face that he had hurt her, and a desperate, fearful look lurking in the depths of his eyes that plainly revealed he was afraid of rejection.

"’Kaasan," he repeated, tentatively. "How – how did you. . .?"

"I went to return your briefcase," Shiori replied, lifting her chin. "I didn’t realize. . ." She flushed.

Shuuichi was flushing, too. "Please, ’Kaasan, can we discuss this someplace more privately?"

"Of course," Shiori replied, hardly recognizing her own voice. She sounded numb, cold.

Shuuichi followed her meekly home. They didn’t even speak a single sentence to each other, as Shiori kept flashing back to the thoughtful look in his eyes, that morning when she had spoken of grandchildren. . . the many times she’d teased him about girls and he had protested, flushing. . . the shocking images of her son with that other boy. . . He had always been so close to her, her little Shuu-chan, yet this central aspect of his life he had never shared, not one whisper of it had escaped him.

Until now.

Shuuichi turned to her once they had gotten indoors, and his eyes were wide and pleading. "’Kaasan. . .I never meant to disappoint you. . ."

"You’ve never disappointed me, Shuuichi," Shiori responded quietly. "Hurt, sometimes. Surprised. But I have never been disappointed in you."

"Not even. . .even if I love. . .another man?" Shuuichi faltered. There. He’d said it. He had finally said aloud to her what he should have said a long time before she chanced to walk in on him and his. . .boyfriend.

Shiori gave him a very solemn look, lips pressed firmly together. She sighed. "I’ve suspected for a very long time that you might be gay, Shuuichi."

"I’m not gay," he replied softly. "Yes, I love Hiei. I will for the rest of this life. But I’m. . .bisexual, I suppose you could call it. . .it’s just that I would’ve loved Hiei no matter what form he appeared in."

"Hiei," Shiori turned the name over in her mouth thoughtfully. "His name is Hiei."

Shuuichi nodded, flushing a little.

"’Kaasan – I’m sorry, I know I should have told you. . ."

"And you love him, Shuuichi?"

"With all my heart," her redheaded son replied.

Shiori’s own heart contracted. "How could you keep such a thing from me?" she cried painfully. "Your first love, Shuuchi. . .something so important, yet you chose to hide it from me!"

Shuuichi lowered his eyes. "I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me," he said in a low voice. "My stepfather. . ."

"Made some unfair accusations that were not based on proof," Shiori responded, automatically defending him, even from her own husband. "And he is prejudiced, I have to admit. But Shuuichi – you are my *son.*"

Shuuichi’s eyes raised to hers at that, wide, startled. As if he could barely believe what she was saying.

"It doesn’t. . .you don’t care that. . .?"

"You are my son," Shiori repeated firmly. "It doesn’t matter to me if your lover is another man or if he’s a three-eyed demon from the depths of the underworld."

A smile of genuine humor quirked Shuuchi’s lips.

Shiori smiled in return. "You should have told me long before now," she reminded him, with sad eyes.

The smile disappeared. "’Kaasan. . .I’m sorry. . .I was afraid that you would. . . that you’d reject me. Disown me, and be ashamed of my. . .choice."

"I would *never* reject you, Shuu-chan!" Shiori exclaimed. "You should know that! You will always be my son!"

She reached forward to enfold him in a tight hug.

"This is the first secret you’ve ever kept from me," she whispered against his brilliant red hair, smoothing it with one hand. "I hope you don’t make a habit of it. Not things that are this important."

Shuuichi trembled in her arms. "I’m a coward," he whispered.

"Shh," Shiori soothed. "I understand why you’d be afraid to tell me. But we are family, you and I – we have between us ties that nothing can sever. The ties that bind can never break. Maybe bend sometimes, but. . . Just don’t forget that I’m your mother! Nothing can ever change that."

"You’d be surprised," and Shiori pulled back, startled, at the bitterness in his tone. Shuuichi regarded her with eyes that were full of pain, and old – far, far older than her twenty-year old son had any right to be!

"Shuu-chan?"

"’Kaasan," he responded. "You’re right. I can’t lie anymore. Not about things this important."

"What do you mean?" Shiori whispered numbly, refusing to grasp that there could be anything greater, anything more serious than what had been revealed to her today. Wasn’t it enough. . .?

"I’m more than who you think I am."

"Nani. . .Shuu-chan, what are you talking about?" She pulled away from him, frowning.

Shuuichi stared down at his hands. "’Kaasan. There’s something else I’ve kept from you, for a very long time."

Slightly hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat, but was trapped before it could reach her lips. "What else could you possibly be hiding from me? You’re more than – what do you mean, Shuuichi? What are you saying?"

Her son suddenly met her eyes squarely, his gem-bright green eyes full of hard resolution. Shiori almost flinched back from the look in those eyes, a look she had never seen on his face before.

"I am not just Minamino Shuuichi who you see standing before you," he said in his soft voice. "You see. . ." he hesitated.

Shiori stared at him in blind incomprehension.

The air around him started to shimmer. "You see, I’m also Youko Kurama." The lines of his body blurred and shifted, lengthened, grew into a lean broad-shouldered figure with long, silver hair – silvery fox ears! – and a handsome, golden-eyed face. A tail. . .

Shiori wondered just exactly when it was, precisely, that she had gotten up from tea, and wandered into Wonderland.

* * *

Kurama stared at his hands, frustrated. What could he say? How could he show her, without losing her forever? He met her eyes suddenly, resolute. There was no backing out of it now.

There was only the hope that, as she said, the ties that bind would continue to hold them together.

"You see, I’m also Youko Kurama. . ."

He clenched his teeth, willing the transformation. Youko Kurama stretched upwards lazily, flipping silver hair over his shoulders, tail twitching – narrowing golden eyes at the human woman who called herself his mother. She was staring at him in open-mouthed stupefaction.

"Shuu—Shuuichi. . ."

"Kurama," Youko Kurama corrected uneasily, self-conscious. His tail twitched nervously.

Shiori backed up a step, holding her hands up as if to defend or ward away an attack. "How. . .?"

Kurama eyed the human woman with sad eyes, and the youko part of him was urging him to flee, to get away from this woman who could hurt him with wounds that weren’t physical, but would leave their marks nevertheless. He was fleetingly tempted to run off and abandon her, the way he himself had been abandoned. . .completing the other half of a circle that had only brought him pain.

That memory was the only thing that stopped him. Because it forced him to recall how his own mother had abandoned him, and how Shiori had taken the place of what he had never had.

"’Kaasan," he said softly, tones as gentle as Shuuichi’s had ever been, but a full octave deeper.

Shiori shook her head slowly from side to side, eyes wide with – was it horror? Amazement? Disgust? Or purely surprise?

In low, considerate tones, Kurama began to explain. How he was a six hundred year old youko, who had been badly wounded by a fox-hunter. How he had fled to the human world, withdrawing that spirit portion of himself that could survive. How he’d settled in her womb, becoming the unborn child there that had not yet formed a soul, filling the fetus and fusing his youko self with a human one. . .refusing to leave out how he had reshaped the body of the girl fetus he had found there, in favor of one that fit his male soul better. . . And how he was unable to leave her, and exactly how she *had* recovered miraculously from her long illness.

"That. . .that was *you?*" Shiori found her voice, cracked with amazement at his revelations. "Shuuichi. . .Kurama. . .you would have given your life to that artifact, to save me?"

"Hai," Kurama replied. "You gave *me* life, ’Kaasan. After six hundred years you truly gave me life when I had never known its real meaning. You helped me discover that it’s something that cannot be thrown away."

Tears slipped down her cheek and Kurama reached forward to brush them away then stopped, unsure if his touch would be welcome.

"Ties that bind," he whispered uncertainly. "You showed me that, ’Kaasan. But I didn’t die. It was Yuusuke. . .he was the one who stepped in, fooling the artifact to save my life. That was how I joined the Urameshi team."

Quickly, painfully self-conscious, Kurama shifted back into his Shuuichi form. He knew that his youko form was probably intensely startling to her. But at least she hadn’t run screaming from the room.

He looked at her for a moment longer, the shocked surprise mingling with complex emotions – fear, curiosity, uncertainty – and turned to go. He wanted to leave before he saw a mask of finality settle over her face, feared most of all to see the emotion of rejection cross her features.

"Shuuichi. . .no, Kurama. Matte," Shiori commanded. There was a steely note of determination to her voice.

Kurama turned back, afraid.

"I want you to tell me everything," Shiori said to him. "Everything, Shuu—Kurama. All that you’ve kept from me, all these years. . ."

The first seeds of hope crept into his consciousness, despite the stern tone of her voice.

Shiori laughed a little, the sound trembling on the edge of tears. "And especially about that young man of yours. Hiei. How did you meet him? How long. . . No, I’m not going to ask how long you’ve kept things from me," she corrected herself. "I just hope that now, you’ll tell me everything."

Kurama laughed a little, too, the sound closer to hysteria than perhaps he had ever been in his twenty years as Shuuichi.

The hope began to bloom.

"Well," he began, moving closer towards her. This time she did not flinch away; she took hold of his arm and pulled him towards the couch. "You remember how you joked that you didn’t care if my lover was another man, or a three-eyed demon from the depths of the underworld? I really hope you meant that. . ."