Disclaimer: Yu Yu
Hakusho belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro, Shounen Jump, et al. Harry Potter belongs
to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, et al. No copyright infringement is intended,
despite the millions I’m making off this *coughIwishcough*
A million thanks to my
fabulous beta, Ish.
He felt like he was drifting on a black sea. He floated
on the surface, and beneath him he could feel the life straining towards him,
wanting to reach, to touch, to drink of his essence. He was irresistibly drawn to it. He
reached back. There was something like thunder in the distance, then ripples in
the water, disturbing his peace. A red-black presence twirled itself around
him, pulling him back, restraining him. ‘Easy, little one,’ it said. ‘You’re
too new yet.’
It coiled more tightly around him. ‘You must learn
control first. Have patience. Your time will come.’ It flowed through him,
and he struggled. ‘Relax.’ It pulled at him, and then he was no longer
floating. He was anchored, lying still, surrounded by physical barriers.
It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.
~**~
He came awake slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the voices reaching his ears—a husky alto and a smooth baritone. He heard the sounds, but could not make out the words.
His body was next, feeling creeping slowly back into strained and weary limbs. His fingers and toes twitched experimentally. He could feel the saggy, uncomfortable mattress beneath him.
Smell came shortly after, his nose twitching as it caught the scent of stale sweat and hotcakes. Mmm, food. His stomach rumbled, which brought his attention to other things that desperately needed to be taken care of. Groaning loudly, he opened his eyes.
A spotted gray ceiling hung above him. With effort, he turned his head, to the two blurry figures sitting nearby. “Kkkrrmmm,” he croaked painfully, shocked at the state of his throat and voice.
Instantly, they stopped talking, and Kurama came to his side. “So you’re finally awake,” said the redhead and he put a hand to Harry’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Bathroom,” he said with a great deal of effort.
After several embarrassing attempts to rise on his own, he allowed Kurama to carry him into the dingy bathroom. “Don’t be ashamed,” his great-grandfather said with a smile. “Your body has been through a lot.”
It didn’t lessen his embarrassment at all… especially when Kurama had to assist him in the act of using the toilet.
“It will pass soon enough,” the redhead said complacently as he put Harry back into the bed and arranged the pillows so he could sit propped up against them. “Your body needs time to adjust to the shift. It went through a great deal of change in just forty-eight hours.”
“Two days?” Harry rasped incredulously as Hiei silently handed him a cup of hot tea. “I was out for two days?”
Kurama chuckled. “Yes. These things take time you know.” Still smiling, he sat on the bed next to Harry. “Do you feel any different?”
Harry hesitated. He did feel different. His limbs, despite their lassitude, had a curious energy flowing through them. He sipped at the hot tea, a soothing herbal mixture with a very strong scent. “Yeah…” His eyes wandered from Kurama to Hiei, and back again, before he realized—“I can see!”
“Is that unusual?” Hiei asked sardonically.
“But I’m not wearing my glasses!” Resting the teacup
carefully on his thigh, he reached up and groped tentatively at his face. “I
can see without my glasses.” Harry gazed at his great-grandfather in excitement
and amazement. “You didn’t tell me I’d be able to see.”
“To be honest, Harry, it never occurred to me. I suppose I’ve always taken it for granted that kitsune eyesight is far better than that of humans. I have a feeling your eyesight may still be bad… just not by human standards.”
“Oh.” He turned his head to the right and saw his glasses sitting on the dresser next to the bed. He could see them clearly, could distinguish each separate piece. A grin stretched his cracked lips almost painfully. He’d never noticed before, but Kurama smelled of roses, and more faintly of vanilla.
“Thanks Kurama, Hiei.”
The two exchanged amused glances, silently communicating their satisfaction.
~**~
Harry was ready to leave by the next afternoon. He was still shaky, but Kurama had assured him it would pass. Hiei had disappeared during the night, but Kurama didn’t seem concerned, so Harry didn’t ask. He had other things to occupy his mind.
Like the strange, tingling-flow of energy that coursed through him. “It’s natural,” his great-grandfather had told him. “Humans normally have to work to feel their body’s energy; kitsune are inherently aware of it. You’ll get used to it.”
He’d caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked, dirty bathroom mirror, and had been almost surprised at how… normal he looked. As if there should have been some obvious physical indication of the energies he felt flowing through him… Although, if he squinted just right, his skin did seem healthier, somehow, and almost as if it had a slight glow… But that could probably be attributed to the odd lighting.
He shook himself out of his reverie with a small smile.
“I let Hedwig out during your change,” Kurama was explaining as he managed to force Hedwig’s empty cage into Harry’s already-full trunk. “She was quite upset, and she hasn’t been back since.”
“She’ll find me,” Harry said confidently. He was perched on the edge of the bed, watching Kurama repack. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from showering. “I don’t think they would let her on the plane, anyway.”
“Probably not,” his great-grandfather agreed with a smile. He pushed Harry’s trunk closed and lifted it easily. “Grab my suitcase, will you?”
Normally, Harry might have been a little insulted that Kurama assumed he wouldn’t be able to carry his own trunk, but at the moment he was grateful for the lighter weight of the suitcase.
He took one last cursory glance around the nondescript little room which had helped facilitate what would surely prove to be one of the most important moments in his life. Looked without his glasses, which were now a comfortable weight in the breast pocket of his best shirt—a present for Dudley a few years ago, which had, even then, been several sizes too small. It was still a little large on Harry, but it was better than the rest of what he owned. He desperately wanted to make a good impression on his Japanese family—if all went well, he would be spending a great deal of time with them.
“Ready?” Kurama asked softly.
“Yeah.” Harry lifted the suitcase with little difficulty, and followed Kurama out of the room.
~**~
The London International Airport was a new and exciting experience for Harry. It was similar to the hustle and bustle of the train station and yet completely different at the same time. Since they had more than an hour until their flight left, Kurama allowed Harry to drag them into the shops that caught his eye.
Harry was amusedly browsing shelves of knickknacks for tourists when something occurred to him. “Hey, Kurama?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t I need a visa or passport or something to go to Japan?”
Kurama looked a little startled, then smiled serenely. “Don’t worry. I’ve already taken care of it.”
Harry stared pensively down at the gaudy key chain in his hand. “But don’t those require, umm, official documentation and things?” he asked, remembering when his aunt and uncle had had to get Dudley a passport for a summer trip to Jamaica. Harry had been left with Mrs. Figg, of course.
Was it his imagination, or did Kurama look a little embarrassed? “Like I said, Harry, I worked everything out beforehand.”
“…But how did you get it so fast? Doesn’t it usually take a bit?” He replaced the key chain and began intently perusing the large selection of shot glasses.
A pause. “I assure you Harry, I didn’t do anything… illegal to get it.”
Harry spared a glance for his rather amused-looking great-grandfather. “Are you sure?”
A discreet cough. “It was all very official,” said Kurama. It was obvious to Harry that the other man was fighting a grin. Puzzled, he shook his head and glanced down at his watch. “Shouldn’t we head to the terminal?”
“Of course, Harry.”
The wait at the terminal was long and excruciatingly boring.
Harry was pondering the merits of sleeping on one’s feet when Kurama began
fishing something out of his backpack. It was purple, and had a little foxtail
key chain dangling from one of the zippers. Harry had found it very
amusing.
“I almost forgot, Harry—I picked this up for you while you were, ah, incapacitated. It’s an English-to-Japanese dictionary for travelers. I thought you might find it useful.”
Harry took the proffered book and began idly flipping through it. “Er, Kurama? Your family—they speak English, don’t they?”
Kurama smiled sheepishly. “Not really. Shuichi—my step-brother—is taking it in school, and my mother and step-father both know a little…”
Harry winced. “You mean I’m not going to be able to talk to any of them?”
Kurama patted his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’ll get along fine. And I’ll be there, remember?”
“Yeah…” Harry didn’t share Kurama’s optimism.
“Flight 427 to Kyoto, Japan, is now boarding.” They both looked up as the message was repeated in several different languages, then grinned at each other.
“Ready, Harry?”
He shouldered his carry-on bag, tucking the dictionary into his pocket. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
~**~
Kurama devoted most the flight time to basic lessons in Japanese pronunciation, grammar, and customs. Harry rather thought most Japanese phrases were a bit of a mouthful. “Wa-ta-shi no na-ma-eh wa Harry,” he enunciated carefully as Kurama smiled encouragingly.
“Not bad, Harry. Once you get used to saying the words, it won’t feel so awkward.”
Harry flushed a bit, but plowed on. “Dozo—like “bozo,” right?—yo-rosh-ku.” Kurama laughed, and Harry decided to try expanding his vocabulary. “How about—‘Da-mare?’”
“Dah-mar-eh,” he corrected with a smirk.
Harry shook his head. “This is so confusing.”
“These things take time,” Kurama said sympathetically. “Don’t expect to learn it all in one go.”
“Right.” He bent over the book once more and struggled bravely on, Kurama interjecting often with useful tips on pronunciation and grammar. Finally Harry slammed the book shut, feeling as though he had run a several-mile marathon, although he’d only been at it for a few hours.
“I think it’s time for a break,” he told Kurama, leaning back in his seat with a sigh.
A forty-something Japanese man sitting across the aisle smiled encouragingly at Harry and asked, “Is this your first time going to Japan?” Harry thought he looked a little squeamish. Probably didn’t like planes. Harry was finding them to be rather dull.
“Yeah. I’m going to visit family.” He couldn’t help the broad grin that lit his face. He was going to visit family, and they weren’t the Dursleys. Could life get any better?
“Wonderful,” the man said vaguely, looking green. “This is my first time traveling on an airplane. I usually travel by others means, but I needed to, er, arrive at the airport…” Looking embarrassed, the man coughed and turned away. Harry turned to Kurama with a puzzled look on his face, but Kurama was watching him with a strange expression.
“Do you recognize him?” the redhead murmured softly.
“No,” Harry replied, equally softly, and more than a little curious. “Should I?”
“He’s a wizard, Harry.”
Harry’s eyes darted furtively to the man, then back to Kurama. “How can you tell?”
“I can smell him, of course.” He added, at Harry’s blank look, “Can’t you?”
Harry sniffed cautiously in the man’s direction. “Er… no. Don’t think so. What’s he smell like?”
“It isn’t an odor so much as an intense tingling in the nose when I inhale.”
“Ah.” Harry rubbed his own nose thoughtfully. “I thought that was the air filter.”
~**~
The airport in Kyoto was a confusing mass of hallways, trolleys, and people, all of whom spoke rapid Japanese. Harry wasn’t ashamed to admit he found it all a bit intimidating, but Kurama clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered him confidently through the crowds.
Still, it was a relief to finally be off the plane, and stretch muscles sore from the long ride. As they gathered their bags, however, Harry felt an unpleasant knot of anxiety forming in his gut. There were so many things that could go wrong. What if they didn’t like him? What if they disapproved of magic like the Dursleys did (given Kurama’s obvious disdain towards wizards, it didn’t seem far fetched)? What if Voldemort showed up during the introductions and killed them all?
Well, the last seemed more than a little unlikely, but still….
They called a taxi to pick them up, and Kurama called his parents to let them know he and Harry were on the way. Harry was somewhat surprised to see Kurama had a cellular phone—he just didn’t seem the type. “Come, Harry. We’ll wait for the taxi outside.”
As they walked, Harry shook his wrist free of the sleeve and looked at the battered face of his watch, which read 3:42 pm in bright green. Considering how dark the sky had been when the plan had landed, Harry found it highly unlikely to be correct. “Hey, Kurama—What time is it here?”
Glancing at his own watch, the redhead replied, “Almost one.”
As if on cue, he yawned loudly. “Yikes! It sure is late. I can’t believe the airport is so crowded.”
“Major airports are always crowded, Harry,” They stepped outside, and Harry shivered, surprised at the bite in the air. “You should see it in the middle of the afternoon. There’s hardly enough room to breathe.” Kurama dropped his bag at the edge of the sidewalk, and Harry set his trunk next to it. There were three other people who were apparently waiting for cabs as well. Harry’s eyes wandered to the distant outline of city skyscrapers.
“Is your family waiting up for us?” Having to wait up might make them less charitably inclined towards their English cousin. Harry knew the Dursleys became quite irate when they were forced to wait at odd hours for someone, even Mr. Dursley’s beloved sister, Harry’s Aunt Marge.
“Yes. Tomorrow isn’t a workday though.”
“Oh.” A moment of silence. Then: “D-d’you think they’ll like me?”
Kurama looked at him very seriously. “Of course they’ll like you, Harry. What could possibly make you think otherwise?”
“I think that’s our cab,” Harry said quickly, pointing. The car slowed to a stop in front of them, and the driver stuck his head out the window and said “Minamino?”
“Hai,” Kurama replied swiftly, hefting his bag. The cab pulled up to the curb, and the driver helped Harry heft his trunk into the back. The little knot of anxiety seemed to have grown into a bowling ball, he noted as he clambered into the backseat after Kurama.
‘What’ll I do if they don’t like me? Will they put up
with me because they feel like they have to, like the Dursleys, or will they
just kick me out? But Kurama wouldn’t let them… would he? He really seems to
like me. And he does seem pretty confident they’ll like me, too.
But… ‘
A gentle squeeze on his shoulder brought him out of his gloomy musings. Kurama’s eyes seemed unnaturally bright in the dimness of the car. “Don’t worry, Harry. They’ll like you. Trust me.”
“Do they—er, how do they feel about magic?”
Kurama suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well—they don’t know about it, exactly.”
Harry blinked. “You mean, about me being a wizard?”
“About a lot of things,” the redhead replied evasively, his hand slipping from Harry’s shoulder. His eyes flicked to the cabbie, who didn’t appear to be paying any attention to them. “I haven’t told my mother about my father’s, er, rather unusual heritage, or about myself. My stepbrother knows I possess unusual abilities—he possesses a great deal of spiritual energy himself, and I have given him some basic instruction on its usage.”
“So…they don’t know anything about wizards, or kitsune or anything?”
Kurama’s smile returned. “Well, they do know something of kitsune—they’re part of our mythological canon—but they don’t know more than the legends, and they know nothing of wizards, except what one finds in fantasy stories, and on television and in video games. Which is to say, very little that resembles the reality.”
“Oh.” That was one burden lifted. “But… If they did know, do you think they’d, you know, be upset about it?”
Kurama’s hand returned to Harry’s shoulder with another gentle squeeze. “I think you’d find that, presented with the knowledge of your abilities, they’d be inclined to accept you regardless…. Such things are often seen differently in Japan, and even among the English, I daresay Petunia and Vernon would be considered most intolerant.”
“Yeah,” he replied, thinking of his best friend Hermione Granger’s parents, who were Muggles but were very loving and supportive. So, er—Why haven’t you told your family yet?”
“Oh look, we’re almost there,” Kurama said blandly, but
smiled and ruffled Harry’s hair. “Don’t worry, Harry. Everything will turn out
all right.”
Harry turned his attention to the street and saw they were now in what appeared to be a residential neighborhood. The houses, he thought, were almost disappointingly un-exotic. He took a moment to savor the sight anyway; after all, just a few days ago, he wouldn’t have been able to see any of it, even with his glasses on!
The car pulled up to the curb, and Harry suddenly found it difficult to breathe. It had hardly seemed real up to this point, but now—now he was really going to meet the rest of his family. His mother’s relatives, whom she’d never known. Ordinary, human relatives, who had no reason to hate him.
He saw the woman first, as he was climbing out of the back seat. She was rather pretty, he thought, despite the small lines around her eyes and mouth. She stood at the gate, beaming at her son as Kurama got out on the other side, closest to her.
Shiori Hatenaka embraced Kurama, and Harry stood awkwardly in the street as the cabbie began hauling their things out of the trunk. Behind Shiori appeared an older man—Kazuya Hatenaka—and a boy about Harry’s age—Shuichi Hatenaka. They were both, he noted with relief, smiling broadly.
“Harry!” Kurama was gesturing him over. Shiori was beaming at him.
Nervously, he approached, bowing uncertainly. “Watashi no namae wa Harry,” he said, cringing at how awkward the words were. It hadn’t sounded that bad on the plane!
But Shiori actually looked pleased as she returned the civilities, then, to his surprise, wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Welcome to our family, Harry.” Her English was as awkward as his Japanese had been, but her words warmed him just the same.
~**~
Kurama watched with approval as his mother and stepfather warmly greeted Harry. He could tell his mother had already taken a shine to the lad—what mother wouldn’t, with his under-fed, waiflike appearance, and large, haunted green eyes?
His stepbrother Shuichi hung back a little, eyeing Harry critically the way teenage boys often do. The older Hatenakas stepped back, making room for Shuichi, who didn’t immediately come forward. The two boys sized each other up for a moment, and then Harry, looking uncertain, bowed
When Shuichi didn’t bow back, Kurama frowned, not wanting to scold the boy and start the two off with bad feelings, but also not wanting to let Shuichi get away with being so disrespectful. Then Shuichi stepped forward, and extended his hand.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry. My name is Shuichi.” The words were stiff, but whatever Harry saw on Shuichi’s face must have reassured him. He stepped forward and clasped the Japanese boy’s hand. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he said sincerely.
Shiori was beaming at the two of them. “Let’s not keep him outside all night,” she said cheerily in Japanese. She lifted Kurama’s bag, and Kazuya grabbed Harry’s trunk, waving off the boy’s attempts to help. Kurama paid the cabbie (who had been perfectly content to wait while the meter was running), and followed his family into the house.
“We’ll be putting Harry in Shuichi’s room,” Kazuya remarked,
setting Harry’s trunk at the base of the stairs. “Help me take this upstairs.”
Kurama retrieved his own bag from his mother and grabbed one end of Harry’s trunk. “Did I miss anything while I was gone, Hatenaka-san?”
“Not really. You had some mail.” They made it up the stairs with little difficulty, and maneuvered the trunk into Shuichi’s room, which already had a pallet set up beside the bed. “Well, there was one thing…”
“What?”
“A strange man came to the house a few days ago looking for you. He wore some sort of cloak, with a hood that covered all his face. When I told him you were out of the country, he became rather agitated, and left me an envelope covered in strange writing for you.” Kurama had the grace to look embarrassed, and Kazuya smiled wryly at him as he positioned the trunk at the foot of Shuichi’s bed. “I assumed it was just one of those mysterious things about you that we love and never question, so I left it on your bed.”
“Thank you, Hatenaka-san.”
Kazuya straightened with a grin. “Your mother has a little something prepared for you and Harry. Don’t be too long.”
“I’ll just drop off my bag and take a look at the letter before joining you.” They parted ways in the hall, Kazuya returning to the rest of the family, and Kurama to his room.
Sure enough, the innocuous manila envelope rested in the middle of a dark blue comforter, covered with the crude symbols of the written Eastern Makai language. Cursing absently, he dropped his bag and grabbed the letter. “By the Hand and Seal of the illustrious Lord Yomi,” read the front. Grimacing, he tore open the envelope and pulled out the thick parchment.
“Kurama, (it read)
I write to you concerning my dearest son and heir, Shura. His body has reached adolescence at last (having stalled for quite some time before having an abrupt spurt). He has become very powerful (not as powerful as I), and I have spent many long hours personally dealing with his training, as well as hiring the best tutors available for his supplementary education. However, he has reached that stage that I am told all young creatures must—the Rebellious Stage. I can teach him all the most powerful techniques in the world, but I, sadly, cannot seem to instill in him any sense of discipline. The boy lacks anything even remotely resembling self-control! Remembering that you possess an iron will and have a knack for teaching others humility, I have decided you are the only suitable candidate to further my son’s education. It would displease me greatly to learn you feel otherwise. Expect Shura in four days’ time.
By my Hand and Seal,
Yomi”
Flabbergasted, Kurama stared dumbly down at the parchment in his hand. He was at a loss as to what to do—although screeching and stamping his foot like a wayward child was rather appealing at the moment.
He didn’t even acknowledge the smooth “shh” of sliding glass or his companion until a low voice said: “I take it from your expression the news isn’t good.”
Kurama raised his eyes to Hiei, who was settling himself comfortably in the windowsill. “The nerve of that man,’ he said in a high voice. He was far too amazed at Yomi’s presumption to be angry. “The utter gall.”
He passed the letter to Hiei, who scanned it quickly, brows quirking. “You’d better make up your mind fast,” the Koorime said, voice thick with what sounded suspiciously like amusement to Kurama’s ears. “By this date, Shura should be here the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’ll teach that boy, all right,” Kurama said, voice cold. “By the time I’m finished, Yomi won’t recognize—“
“SHUICHI!” Shiori’s voice floated up from downstairs. Kurama stuck his head out the door and shouted back, “I’ll be down in a few minutes!”
“‘It would displease me greatly to learn otherwise?’ That’s terribly subtle of him.” Hiei definitely sounded amused.
“And just vague enough to keep me guessing what horrors will be in store for me and my family if I refuse. Damn him, I’m not going to have time if I want to—“ Green eyes suddenly sharpened as he turned a suspicious glare at his sometime partner and friend. “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you have already returned to the Makai?”
Hiei smirked smugly. “Well, Mukuro was terribly interested in this wizard grandson of yours, you know. She told me to take some time off and keep an eye on him.” He gave a deep laugh. “How much you wanna bet that’s the real reason Yomi wants his son here? Being a descendant of yours and defeating a Dark Wizard in his infancy… He must be powerful, indeed.”
“And he is powerful,” said Kurama soberly. “Beyond my wildest expectations. Still… I suppose it can’t hurt. I expect you’ll be keeping an eye on Shura as well as Harry.” It wasn’t a question.
“Naturally,” the Koorime agreed.
The redhead sighed heavily. “Where to put him… I’m sure Mother won’t mind, she’s always had an inexplicable fondness for children. Hatenaka-san should take it rather well. It’s certainly not going to be the oddest thing I’ve done.” He snorted softly. “Speaking of odd, Hiei, would you care to join us downstairs for a bedtime snack? My family has become sadly accustomed to guests appearing out of nowhere. I’m sure they won’t mind.”
“No thanks.” Hiei closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the hard frame. “It’s been a long journey. I’d rather not deal with your hyperactive human brother.”
“As you wish,” Kurama replied absently, already formulating
an explanation for Shura’s presence as he shut the door behind him.
~**~
Harry came awake abruptly. Something had disturbed his slumber, but whatever it was didn’t immediately come to mind. He kept his eyes closed, relishing the warmth around him. He was wrapped securely in Shuichi’s comforter, and lying in a bed almost as soft and comfortable as his bed at Hogwarts—Shuichi’s bed. He’d been very surprised when the other boy had insisted on taking the pallet and letting him have the bed.
Of course, the entire Hatenaka family had shown him nothing but kindness since he’d arrived. He rather thought they were like a smaller, Japanese, Muggle version of the Weasley family.
He yawned and stretched, thinking this was just about the nicest family he’d ever had, when there came a soft tapping at the window. He was on his feet and shuffling forward before it even occurred to him that this wasn’t the Dursleys, and the Hatenakas probably weren’t used to owls arrive at the window carrying mail. But Shuichi was still snoring peacefully, and Hedwig seemed impatient to be let in.
“Hold on, will you?” Harry whispered sleepily as he slowly opened the window. “Be quiet, now.”
Hedwig hooted softly as she jumped onto his forearm. Harry noticed she had a letter. “Is that where you went? I wonder who it’s from.” He gently detached it and transferred Hedwig to his shoulder. “Oh, Sirius,” he murmured, recognizing the writing on the front.
“Harry, (it read)
What where you thinking, running off with a complete stranger without even telling anybody? He could be a Death Eater for all you know! Everybody’s been frantic these past couple of days trying to locate you when we realized you were no longer at the Dursley’s. Mundungus Fletcher swore up and down he’d not seen anybody leave—yes, we’ve been keeping an eye on you. We sent old Arabella to your relatives’ house, and the old bat practically had a heart attack when she learned you’d run off with some stranger claiming to be your cousin! Some of us (I’ll not name names) were about ready to give you up for dead when McGonagall heard tonight from a fellow teacher who mentioned he’d seen you on an airplane headed for Japan. We even Portkeyed Hedwig over there so she could get this note to you sooner. GET AWAY FROM THAT BOY AS SOON AS YOU CAN! Hedwig should still have the Portkey attached to her leg. To activate it, say “Argyll shire.” It will bring you to the Order’s hideout. You and I are going to have a long talk when you get here.
Sirius”
Sleepiness left him quickly, as if he’d had a bucket of cold water dropped on him. Anger built in him as he read the letter, then examined Hedwig’s leg to confirm that there was, in fact, a Portkey—a small white ribbon tied quite prettily.
Scowling, he ripped it off and tossed it out the window and turned away. The one time he didn’t want to leave the Muggle world as soon as possible and now they wanted to take him away? “To hell with them,” he muttered angrily—
—Froze as a burning heat of raw power washed over him—
—Hedwig screeched in fright, lifting off his arm so fast she tore his skin—
—Turned, raising his arm defensively over his face—
—And met the burning red gaze of Hiei, crouched in the window, sheathed sword held forth, a mere inch away from Harry’s wrist. “Nice reflexes,” the little man said approvingly, lowering the sword.
“Hiei!” he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting to be quiet in his shock. He lowered his own arm, heart pounding erratically in his chest. Tossing a look back at Shuichi , who was on his feet, he stepped back nervously. “Umm…”
But Shuichi just stood, blinking blearily. “Hiei-san,” he said slowly, and then launched into rapid Japanese. Hiei replied in kind, and slipped into the room.
“I believe this is yours,” Hiei said in English to Harry, holding out the white ribbon he’d discarded. “It reeks of magic.”
Harry hesitated a moment, then took it when Shuichi moved to his side, rubbing his eyes. “It’s a Portkey.” He frowned at the innocuous, fluttering ribbon in his hand, and then related the gist of the letter’s contents to Hiei.
“…and they tied this to Hedwig, it’ll take me back to England…”
“They think he’s kidnapped you?”
“Not exactly, but they think he’s going to off me, or hand me over to Voldemort, or something.”
“Ridiculous.” Hiei snorted. “It seems nobody is getting good news tonight.”
“Na, Harry,” said Shuichi, who, judging by his expression, hadn’t been able to follow the conversation. “I believe that there is an owl on my desk, Harry.”
Harry half-turned and Hedwig hooted at him irritably from Shuichi’s desk, feathers still ruffled.
“Wizards use them for sending messages, don’t they?” Hiei asked curiously.
“Yeah…” He mustered a reassuring smile for Shuichi. “She’s my pet.”
“Pet?” Shuichi replied uncomprehendingly.
“Yeah, pet.” He raised his arm and called her name softly. She landed on his arm a great deal more gently than she’d left it. She was still quite irate, but allowed Harry to soothe her. It occurred to him belatedly that Shuichi probably couldn’t see in the dark half as well as he could now, but the other boy seemed to be able to make out enough.
“Cool…”
~**~
“The boys are still sound asleep. I’d have heard them if they’d woken up.”
Kazuya relaxed marginally. “Still…”
“I’ll check on them, just to be sure,” Kurama reassured him calmly. “I’m sure it was just an animal outside somewhere.”
“But what a sound!” Kazuya shook his head, smiling sleepily at his stepson. “If anyone could have slept through it, it’d be Shuichi. But check on them anyway, will you?”
“Of course, Hatenaka-san,” he said softly. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Shuichi-kun.”
He waited until Kazuya had disappeared behind his bedroom door before moving on to Shuichi’s room. He rapped softly as he pushed the door open just enough to slip through. “What were you thinking, Hiei?” he hissed irritably. “You woke the whole house up! Hatenaka-san was just about to come in here, and no matter how tolerant he is, he wouldn’t have been happy to find you in his son’s room at four o’clock in the morning.”
“But ‘Niisan…” Shuichi said plaintively. “Hiei-san didn’t do anything wrong. He just startled Harry’s pet, that’s all.”
Sure enough, Hedwig, who had hooted softly at his entrance, was perched on Harry’s outstretched arm. Kurama’s eyes traveled up to the boy’s shoulder, where his nightshirt was torn, and damp with blood. “Are you all right, Harry?” he asked in English.
“Stings like mad,” his great-grandson said cheerfully.
“I’ll get something to clean and bandage it,” he said kindly. Switching back to Japanese, he told Hiei much less kindly to leave.
“Awww, let him stay,” Shuichi hastily interjected before Hiei could either reply or depart. Shuichi had been rather in awe of Hiei since, having seen—and probably sensed as well—Hiei around the house. He’d badgered Kurama for an introduction, which Kurama had felt obliged to supply.
“Absolutely not,” Kurama replied firmly, irritated by Hiei’s rather smug smirk. “You have to get up tomorrow, and you know you’re just going to be grumpy if you get no sleep.” At Shuichi’s rebellious look, he added in a gentler tone, “Think about Harry will you? He’s spent the last day on a plane. Can’t you see how exhausted he is?”
Kurama knew very well that Shuichi couldn’t see very well at all in the pre-dawn darkness, but the boy looked guilty just the same.
“I’ll be around tomorrow,” Hiei announced casually. The Koorime had never said anything about it but Kurama suspected he was flattered by Shuichi’s admiration. “You’ll be starting his training, right?” Hiei jerked a thumb in Harry’s direction.
“Tomorrow evening, yes.” He kept his face smooth, but couldn’t help but feel a little surprised that Hiei was expressing interest in Harry’s training.
“I’ll be back then.” Hiei nodded absently to them and disappeared through the window, but Kurama could still sense him. Obviously, he wasn’t going anywhere tonight, which was just as well.
“Go to bed, Shuichi-kun,” he said. Then, in English: “Come to my room, Harry. We’ll take care of those scratches.”
It was nearly six by the time Harry returned to Shuichi’s room to sleep. And Kurama could barely keep his rage in check. “Take him back, will you?” he growled to the empty room.
“Neither of you seems to have much luck with the post, tonight,” Hiei’s sardonic voice floated in through the open window.
After dressing the scratches, which were deeper than he’d originally thought, Harry had showed him the letter from the wizard whom Harry claimed was his godfather. By the end, Kurama was as angry as his great-grandson had been. How presumptuous, thinking they could dictate where Harry could go, and with whom!
Still, he’d kept his feelings in check, more concerned at the moment with soothing the boy. Tomorrow Harry would write back—Kurama had convinced him, at least momentarily, that things done in the heat of anger were usually regretted later on. Besides, Harry needed sleep, not another distraction.
“So, what do you plan to do about them?” Hiei asked, apparently unperturbed by Kurama’s silence.
“Nothing, at the moment.”
“And then…?
“If the wizards want to make an issue of it, that’s quite all right with me,” he said fiercely. “I highly doubt any of them would be a match for me in battle.”
. .
