Kurama 1/2
Chapter 10
By Kristin Huntsman
Mieiko closed her eyes and breathed, focusing herself into a fine point of effort, of thought, of being. She knew what she wanted, could see it on the backs of her eyelids. All she had to do was make it into reality.
She opened her eyes and began to paint.
The canvas already had a rough outline on it, a blocking sketch done in charcoal, her guidelines for shape and form. She applied color and depth to the rough image, watched and waited as her hands flew between the palette and the surface she was working on, quick, sure mixes of color and careful, skilled strokes making the work go fast.
This was a portrait of Shuuichi-san, one that she was not sure what she would do with. She had been doing several portaits lately, since she'd come to the Minamino home. They all had something to do with Shuuichi's friends, it seemed. She painted to get the odd feelings, the mental impressions she had of them out. She couldn't understand them, quite.
A painting of Shuuichi's friend Hiei leaned against the wall. That was her latest, and it disturbed her. She had only met him once, but had had nightmares, or disturbing dreams at the least, and had finally painted him as she saw him in those dreams, standing in the midst of black-blue-green-tinged flames, a smoke dragon curled about him, fierce and deadly. She shivered and wondered if she should get some books out of the library and psychoanalyze herself for that one.
As a counterpoint, though, the picture of Yukina-san had filled her with ease and a wash of a light blue-green feeling. The young woman, hardly more than an innocent child, really, had felt in her head like cool snowflakes and softly gleaming crystals of ice. The background in her picture was a lovely winter day, while the gentle girl knelt in the foreground and charmed birds to perch on her fingers.
And this picture... this one of Shuuichi-san....
For whatever reason, he felt "green" to her. A thousand different lovely shades, from a soft mint green to the deepest green of the leaves of a tropical plant. The feeling she got with him was the purest sense of nature she had ever encountered. Strange, considering he was born and raised in Tokyo. But still... she painted it.
The early morning sun rose and filled the room with rosy red-gold light, and she frowned, watching the colors be thrown off hue in the light. She stopped and waited for the light to turn true again.
Why should Shuuichi-san be melting into a tree? she wondered. But that was what she was painting. And then there was that other thing she saw when she looked at him, the image of silver and moonlight, quickness and mischief. And of something old, very old and foreign, utterly foreign, to her.
"I don't understand," she murmured, setting down the palette on her desk and carefully leaning the brush against it so as not to get paint on the wood. "I've never had impressions like this before, not of anyone, and now practically everyone I meet gives them to me!"
She looked at the painting, not even a quarter done, and shivered. There was only one more in the set she intended to do, and she was trying to bide her time on that one, understanding it even less.
Why was her sole impression of Koenma that of a deep, deep pool of still water?
Kurama 1/2, chapter 10
Mariko looked at the boy and still found it hard to believe he was not her husband. He looked so similar, and was just as fidgety in a suit as Yuu-san had been at the same age.
... It was so hard to know what to say to the grandson she had never known.
"Your mother?" she asked finally, lifting the cup of tea from its saucer. Not a Japanese tea ceremony, not when she *sensed* that the boy wouldn't be at ease during it.
"She's fine," he mumbled.
"Did Astsuko-san ever marry your father?"
"Nope. The bas--ah, *he* comes around once in a while with money. Not often."
The girl sat next to him, silent. Mariko wondered about her. She'd been roughly introduced as a friend from childhood, but why would that alone give her the privilege of being asked to accompany Yuusuke-san? Perhaps there was more there. In the background the clock ticked quietly.
Mariko sighed. "It seems, Yuusuke, that neither of us are doing well at these games of polite formality. If you would not mind, could we drop them and speak without subterfuge?"
He looked surprised, then a little bit bashful. She found the latter a charming expression on him. "Sorry, ma'am. Kurama keeps trying to teach me manners, and so does Baasan, but they don't stick."
"I'm old enough and have enough money left to me that I can ignore the rules on occasion," Mariko observed, justifying the drop of manners for a while. Yuu-san would have been aghast at such an idea. "And you're young enough to get away with it too. If it won't shock Keiko-san, let's just talk. This silent conversation is becoming intolerable."
Keiko managed a light smile. "I've known Yuusuke for years, Urameshi-san; very little could shock me."
"Well, then, let's be blunt, shall we?" Mariko let her polite facade relax, and slipped into the mindset that had made her a vice-president of her husband's firm before she had decided to retire. "Why did you come to the funeral today, Yuusuke? Was it on your mother's behalf, or on your own?"
"My mom?" He laughed. "She's probably still passed out drunk. I didn't tell her anything about your husband being dead...." He paused, then added softly, "I didn't think there was any need to hurt her."
"Ah, so you know about the circumstances under which she was disowned, then."
"Hard not to; she babbles about it when she's really drunk."
"Atsuko was unfortunate and fell in with a bad lot at school," Mariko reminisced. "She was our only child; her father and I were too lenient with her, perhaps. If we had been stricter, then perhaps it would not have happened, and she would never have taken up with... that man." She shuddered a little. "Her father had hoped for her to make good on the arranged marriage with the son of one of our oldest friends, but after she became pregnant with you, that became impossible."
The boy shrugged. "Can't say I'm too sorry it happened; I wouldn't be me otherwise."
"Who is to say?" Mariko sipped her tea. "So why did you come to the funeral, Yuusuke? For money? Your mother can't be extremely rich, and I am these days."
His brown eyes hardened. "I don't want your money. I'm not so poor that I go around accepting charity."
"So young and so vehemenant. You are very proud, aren't you?"
He laughed, and she heard a trace of bitterness and anger in the sound. "I may not have the most first-class life, but I *do* have pride. I'm Yuusuke Urameshi, I know what I am in life, and I like it."
"You're a delinquint," Keiko muttered.
Yuusuke heard her as well as Mariko, and replied, a trifle caustic in his tone, "You know what I do, woman, and it's at least as important as school."
"*Kurama-san* manages to do both..." she shot back. Mariko stifled a smile at the tone of the argument. It was evidently an old one between the two.
"Kurama," Yuusuke replied icily, "is a--"
"Ahem," Mariko broke in, forestalling the insult she sensed coming to this unknown Kurama, "I did not mean to offend you, Yuusuke. Lesser people might indeed only be interested in the money, and I do not know you well enough to judge." She paused and considered her words. "As you appear to have less interest in such a thing than many, I would assume that your interest in meeting me was of a family matter?"
His eyes dropped to the floor and he took a moment before answering, "I wanted to meet you. I wanted to see what kind of woman was Mom's mother. Anyway, it was... appropriate... that I show up."
"Oh?" Mariko waited, somehow hoping that the boy would prove himself to be that which his grandfather had not. "Why?"
"Because he was my grandfather," Yuusuke muttered.
Mariko felt her heart swell a little. This boy was a good one, she knew now. Better than her husband had been, for Yuu-san's pride had never been swayed by affection. Yuu-san would have showed up to prove that he was the better man of the two; Yuusuke showed up to acknowledge family ties. This boy was truly a grandson she wished to love and do things for....
"You are indeed," she replied on a held breath, "my Atsuko's son."
Hairspray filed the last of the medical records in the cabinet and glanced at the clock. It was nearly three already, and Shuuichi-san would be coming by at that time to pick her up so that she and Mieiko could accompany him/her, as they had asked to be allowed to do, to the photographer's studios. She was thankful that this part-time job was only for a few hours after school each day. Even on Saturdays, she only had to work three hours after the half-day of school got out. So she was free to accompany Shuuichi-san to his three o'clock appointment.
<He's really going to go through with this job as a female model.>
Hairspray shook her head and closed the drawer firmly, locking it with a key that hung from the plastic chain on her wrist. She would not question Shuuichi's choice in this. It was his right, and if she had been in his place, she might have done the same thing. And he *was* taking her with him to the photo studio, so she could consider this of a sort of date... if only *Mieiko* wasn't coming as well....
"Hairspray, are you ready?"
Her fiancee's voice snapped Hairspray out of her thoughts. "Hai, Shuuichi-san," she replied, turning around and snatching up her timecard from where it lay on the desk behind her. "Biji-san, I'm leaving," she called out to her employer. She punched out on the time card and left it and the keys in the top left-hand drawer of the desk in the office before she turned around and caught sight of her husband.
She lost her breath and blinked.
Twice.
Those certainly weren't *her* clothes Shuuichi-chan was wearing. And they were nothing she recognized from Mieiko's wardrobe. And they fit as perfectly as if her husband had been poured into their mold. He *had* to have bought them for himself....
She grasped her purse as Shuuichi coughed and looked away, trying to regain her composure at the sight of her husband as a true female.
Mieiko glared at her from behind Shuuichi.
"Shall we go, then?" Hairspray asked, stealing the upper hand from Mieiko. "You look... lovely, Shuuichi-san."
Tohoru was looking over photo prints when his secretary buzzed him in his office to announce that the girl he'd been waiting for had arrived. He sat up straighter in his chair at that. "Let her in, Kareko-san," he instructed. This girl, if she was as photogenic as he suspected, had the potential to become the biggest female model his company had ever discovered.
Proofing the photos of Nanjou for Shibuya-san would have to wait until after this interview.
Kareko opened the door and Tohoru stood immediately, finding himself not just in the presence of Minamino-san, but also of two other young ladies. One was an exquisite blonde with long hair and deep blue-violet eyes, the other a beautiful brunette with gold eyes the color of a cat's. Both were as pretty as Minamino-san, in their own ways. The blonde had a *presence* of calm wariness... something deep in her eyes that summed you up without knowing you. The brunette also had a presence, though it was something more akin to good humor and skilled observation. Tohoru felt the cash register in his head start chiming. If he could convince Minamino-san by using her friends... if the two other girls would be amenable to modeling careers....
"Takamine-san," the red-haired girl said, bowing, "it's a pleasure to see you again."
"The same, Minamino-san," he replied, bowing in return. "Please, won't you and your friends be seated?" He gestured towards the plush seats arranged before his desk.
"Thank you." The brunette and blonde flanked her as the three sat. "I hope you won't feel offended that I asked my... my friends to come with me."
Tohoru smiled, returning to his chair. "Not at all," he replied, completely at ease with the topic; it had come up before. But most of the young models he approached brought their parents, not their friends. "There are a lot of people who might use the front of being a photography agency to lure young girls into... activities that are less than honorable. I completely understand your caution."
"I also checked out your agency. I already know you're on the level," the girl said, green eyes hard and serious. "I wanted Hairspray and Mieiko-san here as witnesses and to help me come to the conclusion if I want to do this or not."
"Oh?" Tohoru was interested now, and smiling a bit. "You're somewhat unusual, then. You determine that my offer is genuine, but bring your girlfriends along in any case. Tell me, Minamino-san, were you hoping to obtain modeling contracts for the two of them as well?"
Minamino Kurama's face went ice on him at that. "No," she said. The single word was so laced with contempt that it shocked Tohoru, more than the slap across his face that his ex-girlfriend had given him on their break-up had. "If Mieiko-san and Hairspray decide to try modeling, that's their decisions, and completely outside of me. I brought them along for the reasons I stated."
"I see." Tohoru considered. "You play hardball, don't you?"
The green eyes blinked once and the lips curved up in a slight smile. "I have a friend who's shown me the use of bluntness on occasion."
"I'm prepared to offer you a contract for five years if you prove to be photogenic, Minamino-san," Tohoru replied. "I can make you famous. I can make you rich. I can fulfill a young girl's every dream for you."
Minamino laughed. "That's all very good and well... for a young girl. What kind of salary are we talking?"
Takamine named a figure that raised Kurama's eyebrows.
"Take it," her second tail urged, being mercenary.
"What about school and time for youself?" her third tail wanted to know.
"What does it mean we'll have to do?" the fourth asked.
First and fifth remained silent, waiting further information.
"Will I miss school?" she asked out loud.
Takamine looked taken a bit aback at that. "A little, maybe. We can try to work on weekends and do photo shoots in the evenings, if you'd like."
"He must think he's going to make a lot of money off of you if he's being that conciliatory," Hairspray murmured in Chinese.
Kurama looked at her. "Do you really think so?" she murmured back, considering still. She wanted to say yes, but she wanted to read the contract first. So she settled on a compromise. "You're going to have to find out if I'm photogenic first," she pointed out. "Shall we get on to that?"
Aya raised her eyebrows as Tohoru ushered three young women into her domain. He'd said he was interested in one young model, not three. "Konnichiwa, Takamine-san," she greeted. "And what have you brought me here?"
"Konnichiwa, Tsuzuki-san," he replied, bowing while she watched. "I would like to introduce you to Minamino Kurama, Tsukiko Mieiko, and Hairspray. I entrust them into your capable hands." Each of the three girls bowed as he said their names, the redhead first, then the brunette, then the blonde.
"Hajimemashite," the three girls murmured in melodic overlapping voices.
"I'm Tsuzuki Aya," she replied, bowing to the three of them. "I am the chief hair and make-up artist of Takamine-san's company. Douzo yoroshiku. Come, please, sit down." She made little "shoo"-ing motions at Tohoru and he grinned at her, retreating from her domain.
She smiled at his retreating back and turned to see what she'd been given to work with.
Kurama clicked her tongue behind her teeth. She could feel Hiei watching the three of them as they walked from the train station to home. She planned to slip out later tonight and tell him the news. But first she and her other tails planned to go over the fine print of the contract she'd been given to sign.
The photo shoot had gone well, and a couple of fast polaroid shots had shown that she was indeed photogenic. As were her two fiancees. So they each carried a contract home to read over. Kurama's had the biggest sum attached to it. A little over a million yen a year, earned after school and on weekends and days off. She would be known by whatever name she chose. She would have the ability to gain-say anything they wanted her to pose for.
The contract was so unusual that she suspected a trap in it somewhere.
Koenma sighed as he finished the day's worth of paperwork. It wasn't *fair* that he had so much to do! Even the rulers of the Makai had less paperwork than he did!
He looked up as Botan knocked at his door before coming all the way into his office. "Botan, isn't it way past your bedtime?" he asked, knowing she would usually have been in her suite asleep by now.
"Um, well, yes, but...." Botan poked her index fingers together nervously, studying the interaction of their tips. "I was wondering, Koenma-sama... I have some vacation time coming up, and Hinageshi-chan is trained enough to fill in for me...." She asked in a very tiny voice, "I don't suppose I could take my vacation, could I?"
Koenma considered rather than just answering. It was something he'd gotten into the habit of these days. He had no doubt that Botan's request for a vacation was due directly to her infatuation with Yuusuke. The labs were currently trying to synthesize an antidote for that, but emotion potions were tricky to deal with.
The Reikai Ferrygirls were recruited from newly-dead spirits and given flower names; Botan was the Peony Princess, and second in rank among the Ferrygirls. Only Koenma's mother, Sakura, the Cherry Blossom Princess, was higher. The newest Ferrygirl, the Red Poppy Princess, had finally achieved the perfection in her training that would allow her to take over for Botan... so Koenma really couldn't object that Hinageshi wasn't trained enough yet... and Botan *was* due for nearly a month's vacation time....
Oh, hell, he thought. Why not?
"You can take two weeks off," he told her. "Get out of here and enjoy yourself. I don't want to see you for a fortnight." He'd save the other two weeks for her next disaster. Botan just seemed to attract ill luck sometimes.
"Oh, Koenma-sama, thank you!" she squealed, hopping up and down on her getas.
Koenma sighed and watched her skip down the hall, then froze as a thought struck him. "Botan, don't you DARE run out the credit limit on your Gold Card!!" he yelled after her.
Her echoing giggle was his answer, and he sighed, slumping back in his seat. He wearily reached into his top left-hand drawer and grabbed a request for funds to be transferred into the Ferrygirls' credit account.
Botan would spend too much, just like she always did.
Koenma wondered where she *put* all the stuff she had to be buying to run out her credit limit....