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oddmawd · 2 months ago

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THE SIGHT UNSEEN - Chapter 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance"

SUMMARY: Yamato Rei pays the bills by telling fake fortunes to unwitting suckers... or so she thinks. Turns out half her customers are demons and her lying ass has been predicting the future with uncanny accuracy for years. On account of her growing reputation, Rei just landed on the radar of the same demon who murdered her aunt, and her only hope of survival is a mirror haunted by the ghost of an ancient warrior queen, her burgeoning psychic powers, and a certain Spirit Detective and his friends. Specifically the pretty one with red hair who seems to see right through her... Kurama is as mysterious as he is beautiful, and when Rei must stay at Genkai’s temple for protection on the eve of Yusuke and Keiko’s wedding, she finds herself growing closer and closer to the one man who’s sworn to keep everyone at arm’s length. But both Kurama and Rei hide behind high walls of their own creation, and it’ll take more than their eventual friends-with-benefits arrangement to see those walls come crumbling down — provided the demons hunting Rei don’t tear her limb from limb, first.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRINGS: Kurama/OC, Yusuke/Keiko

RATING: E(xplicit) (MDNI, 18+) (but this chapter is T+)

WORD COUNT: 12.3k for chapter 24

GENRE: Supernatural Romance

FANDOM: Yu Yu Hakusho

TAGS: Opposite of a slow burn, friends with benefits, mutual pining until it explodes, mystery, being stalked by demons, fortune telling, supernatural powers, inheritance, hair loss (main character has alopecia and is mostly bald), insecurity, family trauma, found family, new friends, weddings,

WARNINGS: N/A for chapter 24

This fic is exclusively hosted on Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance" - Excerpt

As soon as Rei ascertained with (somewhat relative) certainty Kurama would no longer be able to see her bright red face, Rei covered her face with her hands and screamed.

Well, sort of. She kind of mimed screaming, if that makes sense, with lots of air rushing up her windpipe and her face contorting into an impressive mimicry of Edvard Munch’s most iconic work, and she was only just a fraction louder than that particular work of art. She whisper-screamed into the void and staggered haphazardly around the unfortunate stretch of porch that bore witness to her dramatics, throwing herself at railings and support poles and sliding down them until she lay in a heap upon the floor. Then, as a bamboo deer scare popped nearby, she rolled around a bit, face still buried in her hands, dragging her fingers down her cheeks as she held back screeches of embarrassment, mortification, and shock at her own goddamn audacity.

Because holy fucking shit, gang — Rei was a bad bitch of the highest order with confidence to spare and an ass that just won’t quit, but propositioning Kurama to his face was bold even by her standards. She was long past her fun party-girl phase and hadn’t been so forward with a potential sexual partner in years. She was pursuing a master’s degree in library sciences, for fuck’s sake! What the hell had gotten into her?

Rei was a confident person, sure. She’d taken her clothes off in front of a crowd, danced in a tiny dress in front of judges without breaking a sweat, and worn a wig in a windstorm for a photo shoot, but even she wasn’t usually that brazen with an overture. She’d all but crafted an engraved invitation beckoning Kurama to waltz his (very fine) ass right back into her bed!

But then again, it was easy to be confident when you had a cheat code. A little inside scoop, if you will. Because a certain very interesting prophetic dream glimpsed in the bottom of Rei's teacup still hadn’t come true. That future moment hadn’t happened yet, and that meant…

Still lying prone upon the porch, Rei shivered. Things were not over between the two of them, she was sure of it.

Eventually she managed to scrape herself off the floor and head indoors. Sooner was better than later for floor-scraping, Rei thought. After all, Kurama had indicated he would follow her inside for a cup of coffee (a literal one, not the metaphorical cup one might use to lure a hookup to your apartment for the evening, but Rei digressed as she was wont to do when held in the grip of slutty panic). Seeing her rolling around like a cat who’d gotten into the nip stash would probably kill any chances she had with the reserved man, anyway. As it stood, despite her inside scoop leading the way, she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever want to speak to her again — not with the level of intimacy they’d been sharing up until that point, at least. He’d probably back off a bit now that so many lines had been crossed. Or maybe “playing it cool” meant he’d never speak to her again for as long as they lived.

Either way, she’d follow his lead. That much she could handle.

And in what was perhaps a bit of cosmic foreshadowing, Himiko had given Rei the silent treatment. After tucking Kurama in for the night, she’d worried the old queen would give her an earful as soon as her head hit the pillow, but nope. Himiko had remained as silent as the grave she had avoided by sealing herself into that ancient mirror. No dream visits had occurred, not even to scold Rei for co-sleeping with the fox demon Himiko loved warning her about. That seemed like a prime moment for a great-great-great-great-grandmotherly lecture. Rei wasn’t entirely sure what the unexpected silence might bode in its stead.

Dreams untroubled, Rei had awoken that morning to find Kurama sleeping soundly at her side. Bastard was pretty even with his hair rumpled and teeth unbrushed, clothes hanging off his toned chest like a model carefully staged to look both elegant and disheveled in the early morning light. God, Kurama was in way better shape than Rei had expected him to be. He had a dancer’s body, by Rei's estimations: lithe and strong with muscles easily hidden beneath tailored slacks and collared shirts. But with his shirt unbuttoned and tits out, so to speak (scratches from her nails still trailing down to his taut abs, she noted), he was positively delicious. It had taken quite a bit of willpower to not wake him then and there and discover how down to clown he was without alcohol flooding his system. Instead she’d left him in her bed and gone to bathe, scrubbing herself from top to bottom with some of the fancy, strongly scented soap Botan had brought with her to the shrine. No telling how good demons’ senses of smell were. She knew Kurama would want privacy, and she had done her best to accommodate his expected anxieties by stripping the lingering scent of roses and earth from her skin.

How she’d kept a straight face in front of Hokushin when she ran into him in the hall just afterward was beyond her. He’d come storming through just as she exited the onsen, the demon clearly panicked about something, and his eyes had bugged when he saw her coming. In his fist he carried an empty bottle of sake — the exact same bottle a furtive Yusuke had asked Keiko to put away somewhere the night before. Rei had gone with Keiko at the time, and they’d placed it on a table with the other liquor. Neither had thought much of it in the moment, but now, seeing the look on Hokushin’s face…

“Yamato-san.” He held the bottle out, beady eyes intent on her face. “Did you see who drank this?”

“Drank…?” She blinked at him innocently, quick mind was already doing some rather unfortunate math. “No, sorry. Was it important?”

While he babbled about precious wedding-night gifts and unbreakable Alaric consummation traditions and mildly aphrodisiacal wines, she’d crunched the appropriate numbers and realized exactly what Kurama must have been sipping on all evening. But while she felt bad for Hokushin, who was even balder than she was and therefore an automatic friend to Rei, she hadn’t told him she suspected Kurama had imbibed the dubious wedding present. Instead she’d directed him toward Chu, wherever he was, in a classic misdirect toward the insatiable drunk.

“Chu?” Hokushin’s brow furrowed. “He prefers his ogre-killer.”

“True,” said Rei sagely, “but he was coming onto me all night, and if that liquor has the effect you claim it does…”

Hook, line, sinker. Hokushin had taken the bait and stormed off with gutting Chu like a fish on his mind, and Rei — feeling accomplished at her subterfuge, and mildly vengeful toward Chu after the evening prior — had gone to the kitchen to make coffee. That’s where Kurama had found her, and then he’d pulled her into the woods, and then she’d propositioned him because oh god oh god oh god, she’d lost her damned mind!

But dwelling on her lapses in sanity wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all Rei, so right back into the kitchen she went. She’d made allusions of breakfast to Kurama, after all, and she wasn’t the type to go back on a promise.

This time, however, she found the kitchen occupied by Keiko, who stood over the brewing coffee pot with eyes like a sleepy hawk’s. Botan yawned behind her at the kitchen table, looking in similar need of caffeine. Sleepy though she appeared, Keiko glanced at Rei askance, eyes roving over her in an assessing sweep.

But it was Botan who spoke, smile drowsy and soft. “You’re up awfully early, Yamato.”

Rei laughed as she slipped into the chair beside Botan. “Back atcha.”

Keiko nodded at the coffee maker. “You put the pot on?”

“Yeah.”

“Bless you.” Keiko sighed, relieved. “I need it.”

“Up late?”

“Yes.” Keiko fought back a yawn. “But I’ve got too much to do to be sleeping in.”

“You should let Yusuke know,” Rei said with a slow smile of her own, “before he drags you off for another midnight garden makeout session.”

Keiko gasped. “You saw that!?”

“A good Fixer has eyes and ears everywhere.”

While Keiko grumbled about Yusuke keeping his hands to himself, flushing a pretty shade of pink all the while, Rei busied herself prepping breakfast and pretending she hadn't just intentionally deflected the conversation away from whatever the hell she had been up to last night. Far better to embarrass Keiko into changing the subject herself than have her ask the reciprocal question of “Gee Rei, what did you get up to everyone else was sleeping? Fuck any foxes?” And with Botan sitting right there, this was a question Rei simply could not tolerate. Yes, yes, shift the narrative, Keiko…no one will suspect a thing…

And the tactic appeared to work, because Keiko immediately looked away, cleared her throat, and launched into a monologue. “Anyway. I have a lot of my plate today,” she said, looking anywhere but at Rei. “Mostly just making sure the logistics are in order. Flowers on time, the cake delivery, and of course the guests, more decor…” She stopped counting on her fingers when the dulcet sounds of ‘Fur Elise’ began to play from her pocket on tiny speakers. “Oh, speak of the devil, that’s probably the wedding band. Give me a second…”

Leave it to Keiko to have such a classy ring-tone, Rei thought to herself. She watched with a satisfied (dare I say it, smug) smile as Keiko left the kitchen. The bride-to-be looked quite grateful to have somewhere else to be if Rei was judging the sheepish look on her face accurately…

But Rei had lightly miscalculated the situation, because Botan was definitely still in the kitchen and absolutely gearing up to ask a question of her own, if the serious expression she aimed in Rei’s direction were any indication. Luckily the grim reaper had other things on her mind and asked an innocuous question; privately, Rei’s nerves deflated somewhat.

“Say, Yamato. Keiko and I were talking, and we were wondering — what do you plan to wear to the wedding?” Botan spoke with a degree of hesitation Rei didn't quite understand, as if worried about causing offense. “You packed in an awful hurry, and you didn’t get much warning that you’d be attending a wedding of all things…

Oh, so that was it. “Don’t worry,” Rei said. “I came prepared.”

Botan looked surprised (and Rei felt nearly offended after all). “You did? Really?”

“My friend,” said Rei with grave solemnity, “|I don’t travel anywhere without at least two evening looks in tow.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Oh yeah.” She had to suppress a laugh; to someone like Rei, the alternative was positively absurd. “Former ballroom dancer, hardcore girl’s girl — I have never traveled light in my entire life, and no amount of homicidal, eyeball-eating demons could hope to cramp my style.” But because Botan still looked adorably skeptical, Rei explained, “I brought three full sized suitcases on this little venture, if that tells you anything. At least two dresses in them ought to work for the wedding. I could even do an outfit change for the reception.”

The I-don’t-want-to-offend-you expression was back in full force. “Keiko will want to see the looks, if you don’t mind. Is that all right?”

“What, it’s not a color-coded dress code or something, is it?”

“No, she’s not that fussy.” Botan hesitated a moment. “But she does want to make a good impression on the demonic dignitaries.” Her eyes dropped, nervous. “So…”

Ah. So that was it. When it came to event attendance, Botan and Keiko had only seen Rei in some of her more egregious outfits: the men's-suit-with-no-shirt-on-underneath-and-a-neon-party-wig ensemble she had worn to the bachelor party, and her truly unfortunate Eastern European fortune teller get-up from the first night they’d all met, neither of which was sure to inspire much confidence in Rei’s ability to dress herself for a formal wedding. But Rei wasn't offended that Botan and Keiko wondered if she had packed wedding-appropriate attire before their madcap rush to reach the temple. Rei had been running around in spandex workout gear while training with Genkai, too, which was also the opposite of good wedding attire. Hell if Rei would ever begrudge a bride for caring about the appearance of her guests, especially if some of them were dignitaries from another dimension.

Another dimension. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. Rei would never get used to that.

“Oh, don't worry,” said Rei. “I have just put the doctor ordered. Or just what the wedding planner ordered. Whatever whoever is in charge ordered, I have, so — ”

The kitchen door burst open. Keiko stormed inside. She paced over to the stove and swiped up a coffee cup before snatching the coffee pot from its cradle. The coffee was still dripping from the filter, but she didn't appear to care, letting precious drops of it spill all over the overflow tray in her haste to get caffeine in her system. As soon as she could, she tossed back a shot with a grimace, face red, but probably not just because she had downed a scalding mouthful of coffee.

Call it a hunch, but when Keiko exclaimed “Oh, this is terrible!” with the expression of a person who’d just slipped and fallen in cow manure, Rei got a feeling her prediction was right on the money.

“Are you OK, Keiko?” Botan said. “Whatever is the matter?”

Keiko’s eyes flashed wild. “The band just canceled!”

“What?!”

“The band, the wedding band — they canceled!” Keiko threw up her hands, coffee sloshing over her bare wrist. She cursed and said, “They just played some festival and they all came down with the flu. The singer could barely even talk on the phone, he was so sick.”

Botan put a hand to her cheek “That’s terrible!”

“The wedding is the day after tomorrow.” Keiko moaned, cradling her singed wrist. “What am I going to do?”

“He didn’t have a replacement for you?” Rei asked with a frown.

“No. Should he have?”

“Most bands have friends in the community they can call if something like this happens." She had worked with enough of them in her day to know that much for sure. “And most contracts have a cancellation clause, too.”

“Well, he didn’t mention it, and I don’t remember what the contract said.” Keiko wrenched out her phone, fingers tapping franticly at the screen. “Do I have a copy handy? Oh, what am I going to do?”

“Could we call Koto, Juri and Ruka?” Botan asked. “They’re attending the wedding, so maybe their contacts — "

“Wait.” Rei stared at Botan in rapidly mounting shock. “Not that Koto, Juri and Ruka, right?”

The Demon Trio — an idol group that had debuted some years prior and reached meteoric heights in the Japanese entertainment world, whose fame and notoriety soon went international, cementing them as bonafide superstars all over the world. Their whole schtick was that they wore fake ears and tails (Juri and Koto) and did magic on stage as part of their act (Ruka), staying strictly in-character as supernatural beings while singing, dancing, and performing their very pretty asses off. Hell, their first album was called ‘Sirens,’ and it goes without saying they’d leaned into the gimmick whole hog.

At least, Rei had assumed it was all a gimmick. Like the rest of the world, Rei had chalked up their anatomical accoutrement to some kind of bizarre costuming choice. But with everything Rei had learned about the world (or worlds, to be more precise) over the past few days, she got the sense the Demon Trio’s little act may not have been an ‘act’ at all.

And like a guillotine coming down to sever Rei’s perception at the neck, Botan looked at her, sighed, and admitted: “Yes, that Koto, Juri and Ruka.”

“Oh my god,” said Rei.

“They’re old friends of ours,” said Keiko.

“Oh my god.”

“And they’re an instrumental part of the integration of demons into the world of humans,” added Botan.

“Oh my god!”

Botan smiled sympathetically at Rei, who had begun staring at the wall with the expression of a particularly stressed-out lobotomy patient. “You doing OK there, Yamato?”

“Oh, y’know. Just recalibrating my view of society and reality at large. Again.” Rei draped her arm over her eyes, head tipping backward over the back of her chair. “Every day at Genkai’s shrine is a new revelation for me, ya boy.”

Keiko hummed under her breath. “That’s not a bad idea to reach out to them, though. They have to know someone, right? At least a DJ…” She let out a groan. “And the band was supposed to play the wedding march!”

Keiko left the room in a hurry to make the call, Botan looking appropriately horrified on her behalf. Rei felt terrible for her too, of course. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and here they were without a band for the reception. Sure, Rei could offer to DJ the party with her phone hooked up to a speaker (she certainly had an extensive enough music library for the job), but that was hardly the same thing as having a live band. Certainly less impressive, and it lacked the ambiance Keiko no doubt wanted to provide her royal guests. This was, without a doubt, an absolutely awful turn of events…

A pang of guilt speared her, cold and cutting. She squashed it down, though, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her head as it struggled to be heard — and either Botan had eats like a bat or was a little psychic herself, because she looked at Rei and brought up the exact damn thing Rei was trying very hard not to think about. Rei often thought of herself as a cat with nine lives, but it seemed she’d used up all her subject-avoidance chances for the day in her earlier preemptive deflection with Keiko. Fuck.

“Well, Fixer.” Botan’s magenta eyes opened wide and plaintive. “Any ideas Keiko knows the Demon Trio, but you know some entertainers of your own, don’t you? Maybe your burlesque friends have connections we could leverage?”

“Yeah.” Rei swallowed, studying her coffee cup. “Maybe.”

But ‘maybe’ was a damn lie, because Rei did have connections she could leverage. One in particular she had no doubt would come through for her in a flash, in fact. In spite of that certainty and her loyalty to Keiko both screaming at her to make the call, Rei did not get her phone out of her pocket. Instead she waited, sipping her coffee in silence while Botan fretted, until Keiko returned to the kitchen looking equal parts panicked and morose.

“Koto and the others are so busy, I can’t get a hold of them,” she said, slumping into a seat and putting her forehead on the table. “Their manager couldn’t even get them on the phone.”

“Oh no!” Botan turned to Rei again, looking more plaintive than ever. “Yamato? You said you maybe had something?”

Rei sucked in a breath. “Well — “

She started to say no, because dammit, that’s what she wanted to say, what she needed to say. But then Keiko swung hopeful eyes her way, and the words died on Rei’s lips.

“Yamato? Do you have an idea?” she asked.

And Rei's willpower crumbled like a sand castle on an angry shore, because Keiko’s tentative smile and pleading eyes cut to the heart and dissolved her defenses in one heavy wave. Rei sighed and patted her wig, slowly getting up from the table as a hollow formed in the pit of her belly.

“It’s not a sure thing, but yeah,” Rei said, every word heavy on her tongue. “There’s a call I can make.”

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