-A Matter of Loss-

It was too bright. Too loud. Too bright. The den was dim, lit with the soft glow of luminescent vines, not this bright, harsh light that left his eyes blinking in a way firelight or even the moonlight never could. And the noise.

There were…people bustling around him. So many people. The grip on his hand tightened as his steps faltered, tugging him along insistently. No. No. He didn't want to be here. No!

Sayuri—that's what he'd been told to call her, when he'd awoken delirious and frightened in her arms. At least he thought she was a her. Kuro-nii had described she-demons to him before ("Like your papa, but prettier AND meaner—ow! Youko! Quit it!")—glanced back at him, frowning and he swallowed and tried to keep moving, gathering his courage and pushing through the fear. Father said not to make them angry. If someone ever took him—

-x-

The scary one left with a sneer, Father remained at the table, watching and listening as the footsteps retreated down the mossy corridor to the den's entrance. Kits weren't allowed to go that way, only Father and Kuro-nii. He wasn't even sure he wanted to if that's where the scary ones came from.

He shouldn't even be here. Father had told him to stay out of sight, in the smelly room. But he'd been curious, and Father just wanted to cover his scent right? So he'd broken off one of the branches of the strong-smelling plant and stuck it in his obi, lurking like a small, silent red-haired mouse right beyond the curtain—

"Come in, kit."

He almost jumped, and then sheepishly parted the veil of vines, slinking out under the golden gaze of his father. He didn't…seem mad that he'd been disobeyed. More…thoughtful.

"It has come to my attention that…some demons may try to hurt you to get to me."

He froze as his father moved away from the table. Demons. Father and Kuro-nii were demons. But so was the scary one that just left. Father always told him to go to the smelly room when he had other demon guests.

"You are still a kit, and kits are vulnerable." The serious expression on his father's face held him there even stronger than any real grip could have. He didn't like seeing it. It was the expression his father always wore when he came back from Outside. Or when he talked to Kuro-nii about things a kit could barely begin to understand.

Father knelt down in front of him, clawed hands gently landing on his shoulders, "Should something happen—Do. Not. Resist."

…what?

"They would have no qualms about killing you, if you angered them. Be smart. Be safe. I will find you, I promise."

-x-

It was hard. He was scared. Sayuri seemed nice, but she'd done something to his two-tailed cat companion when it tried to protect him, and then she'd grabbed him and he'd blacked out, only to wake up and find them flying, the tops of trees rolling by beneath them. Trees! He almost hadn't known what they were, he'd only actually seen them for the first time when Father took him out to meet the firecat. She could fly on clouds of flame. Sayuri used an oddly shaped stick. He'd felt safer on the cat's back, wrapped in his father's clawed arms, than he had when drowning in Sayuri's silken sleeves.

And now…here they were, in this crowd of horned, multicolored beings (demons too?) running around, lugging stacks of paper from desk to desk. Shouting to each other from across the room. Some sort of shrill ringing would occasionally pierce the din, knifing through the air and setting off panic anew.

He didn't want to be here. He dug in his heels, tugging on his hand.

But Sayuri would not let go. She pulled him onward with barely a backward glance.

He wanted Father.

He would even settle for Kuro-nii.

But he was alone in this crowded room. He had never felt so alone before. Not even when Father said he wouldn't be home for a couple days. Even when absent, Father had always been a distant warmth, ever present and comforting. He would always come back.

Now even that certainty was gone, only chill numbness where Father's presence had been.

Sayuri stopped before an odd section of the far wall. It was a different color to the shiny white tile covering the wall. She knocked her fist against the door, the impact sounding weirdly hollow in the din of their surroundings. It echoed in his ears, and he couldn't help the flinch as wood ground against the floor, dragging as the wall split open to another room, almost like the vine-doorways separating the rooms at home, only clunkier.

"Lord Koenma?"

The small corridor opened up into a large room—smaller than the one outside, but still larger and taller than any of the rooms in the Den—Sayuri's voice echoing through the empty space. A thud from behind caused him to jump, whirling around to find the opening behind them had closed, completely insolating the room from the din and chaos of the previous space.

"Ah, Sayuri." The high, somewhat squeaky voice came from the far end of the small hall. There was a large desk there—not wooden, like Father's, but some odd material that shone under the far too bright overhead lights—but it was completely covered by mountains of white papers that shuffled every now and then, followed by the occasional thud of something pressing against a hard surface. "Your report said you found something interesting?"

"A human child, sir." She squeezed his hand, smiling reassuringly down at him. It was the same expression she'd had right after she'd blasted his firecat friend away with a blinding light, a mocking "Don't worry, you're safe now." ringing in his ears before he'd blacked out.

He just looked anywhere but her face, ducking his head and hiding behind his long red hair. He didn't want to see it. She'd taken him away. She'd—

She'd—taken Father from him. Turned the warmth into numb despair. He didn't know how, but he knew it. He'd promised Father he wouldn't resist, but he would never forgive her either.

"In the Makai? Alive?" The high voice sounded skeptical, the shuffle of paper stilling in the following silence, "That shouldn't be possible. Humans can't cross the barrier—"

That word again. Human.

He smelled differently from Father and Kuro-nii. He knew that. That was why he had to stay in the smelly room when others visited. So they wouldn't smell him. So they wouldn't smell him and take him away.

Like she did.

He'd gone outside. Without Father or Kuro-nii. Even the firecat had been reluctant, only following because he'd refused to be dissuaded.

He'd wanted to go outside. Wanted to run through the thick underbrush of a world he'd only recently discovered when Father agreed to start taking him out for games of tag in the moonlit shadows.

He wished now that she'd stopped him. That she'd transformed in a blaze of fire and grabbed him by the neck of his yukata and dragged him back into the den. But the small two-tailed kitten had only mewed worriedly and followed.

She hadn't even been able to transform before the black-haired she-demon had swooped down from the sky, snatching him away.

"I can't answer that, sir. He hasn't spoken to me since I found him. I managed to rescue him from a D-class elemental, but judging by the amount of ambient youki in the area, a far stronger demon owned that territory—"

Rescue?

Rescue?

No.

No.

"—NO!"

x-x-x

The shout rang out through the room, causing Koenma to stop mid-stamp. The young voice was shaky. Frightened. But the word was quite clear.

Interesting. And unusual considering Sayuri's initial report had been describing him as pretty much completely unresponsive. Koenma sighed and replaced his seal stamp on the inkpad, pushing it and some of his mountain of paperwork to the side. This was starting to be something he should actually look into, rather than just hear the report and be done with it.

It was already a unique case, actually, bringing a human to his office. Even if a human managed to stumble into a Spirit World case, they hardly ever were brought directly before him, the acting lord of the Spirit World.

Corpses appeared in the Makai. No matter what the Spirit World's agents tried, human flesh was still a highly coveted (and even essential for certain breeds) part of a demonic diet, and smugglers were constantly killing humans and finding weakness in the guard patrols to smuggle the corpses through. But this one was obviously a living child, and given the amount of Makai taint sticking to his aura—he'd been there a long time.

For a living human child to survive so long in the Makai…it likely meant some demon was actively keeping him. Whether as a pet, or a curiosity, or a future food breeder…

Koenma shuddered, steering his mind away from the latter thought and where it led. They'd had demons try to set up breeding grounds before. No matter the reason, living humans were not permitted in the Makai, and that was that. The one time some demon had managed to force a half-breed's line to breed true…

Well. The poison in the water had been considered a mercy.

He moved the papers enough to give him a clear enough place to stand on the desk, and climbed on top, like he usually did when he had to address his subordinates directly. He didn't much like having to crane his neck all the time. He couldn't wait until he hit his growth spurt in another thousand years or so.

The boy—he seemed to be about Koenma's height. Definitely not taller. Not in the least—had pulled away from Sayuri and was shaking his head. No he was shaking. Completely. Trembling like a leaf. Sayuri tried to move closer. Was trying to talk him down—Koenma had never seen the usually composed ferry girl so frazzled. Especially as the boy was constantly backing away from her, just repeating the word "no" and shaking his head of shockingly red hair. European? The only place the spirit world's barriers were thin enough for regular demonic activity was the isle of Japan. That they knew of. If they had another breach, he might have to put the Special Forces onto hunting it down.

"Sayuri. Stop." The ferry girl froze, "Back up a bit."

She did so, obviously reluctantly. Koenma hopped off his desk to the floor, knocking some of the papers as he did so. He eyed the scattered white leaves with annoyance, and made a mental note to call Ayame to tidy them up later. Hell if he was going to reorganize this mess.

The godling approached the child, getting closer than Sayuri—occasionally his adorably cute and harmless appearance was just what he needed—but stopping when the boy finally flinched back. Koenma folded his hands into his sleeves, sucking thoughtfully on his energy-storage matrix. The boy was still shaking, his face ashen, but he'd fallen silent, odd purple eyes darting between Koenma and the ferry girl behind him.

"Well?" Koenma demanded, "You want to say something. I'm giving you a chance to."

Even if he was European, language wasn't a problem in the Spirit World. It should be enough to—

The boy gulped, and then drew himself up straight—damn it. He was taller. Koenma was slightly irritated at that.

A quick, shallow breath, and then a tiny plea, "…wanna go back…"

"Why would you want to do that!?" Sayuri burst out, "You're safe now—"

Koemna cut her off with a sharp slashing movement of his hand, as the boy began to shake his head frantically again, losing some of the composure he'd managed to gain. He obviously had some issues with Sayuri. Perhaps she looked too much like his captor? Or even just that she was an adult, while Koenma was more approachable for being child-like?

"Kura—" A quiet whimper, "I wanna go back. Back to Kura. Fath—" And then the boy's mouth snapped shut, although Koenma had an idea of what he'd been about to say. Father?

Maybe the boy wasn't talking about the Makai at all. Maybe he was talking about the family he'd been missing. Maybe he wanted to go back to them.

"Don't worry, we'll get you home." Koenma promised. There was no way he would send the child back to the Makai. He'd be eaten alive. The Spirit World was no place for humans either, but they could return him to the Human world. It probably wouldn't even be hard to locate his family. He reached a small hand out for the boy, who took it hesitantly, the faintest hint of a smile at the idea of returning to his family.

…And then he fainted, slumping forward into Koenma's arms. Oof. He was a little taller, but still, Koenma wasn't used to supporting anything so heavy. His knees trembled, his arms burned, but he managed to hold it long enough.

"Did you…?" Ayumi stepped forward, lifting the child effortlessly off her employer, much to Koenma's gratitude.

"I put him to sleep." Koenma brushed off his clothes, straightening them as he did so. "He's exhausted, and really shouldn't be allowed to remember as much as he will. Hopefully he will write it off as a bad dream. If it weren't for the remnants of the bond you mentioned, I would recommend modifying his memory, but as it is, it would cause more harm than good."

Aural tagging—now that was something he hadn't seen since the worlds were split and demons had to consider humans their territory as well as food—did weird things to the victims after they were removed from the source of youki. Probably why the boy was so docile while being brought here, and then only began to break down as time went on.

"Take him to one of the break rooms and wait until I call again." Koenma instructed, folding his hands in his sleeves once again. She nodded and bowed out, leaving Koenma to sigh and stamp out of his own office, much to the surprise of the working ogres managing the records room outside. They stood around to gawk until he yelled at them to get back to work. Yes, he, the Great Lord Koenma was doing his own research without yelling at George to find it for him. It wasn't that rare… If he'd thought he'd be able to get the kid's name, he could have gotten George to fetch it, but all things considered… He had an idea of what the kid's spirit energy felt like now, he should be able to hunt down his file even without a name.

He concentrated on the odd Makai-tainted spirit energy, trying to imagine it without the acid-copper taste of youki left by the tag. He followed that sense of energy, pacing the rows upon rows of filing cabinets, the spirit world's record of every living human.

…luckily, they were sorted by age, so at least he was able to cut out a good chunk of the global population. Even only looking at the lower end of the lifespan that was a lot of files to sift through.

It took him at least an hour before he had the correct file in hand, flipping through the pages. The name was smudged—an unfortunate detail that pointed toward the slave or breeding fodder idea. Smudged names were generally indicative of those who either lost or never managed to form a concrete identity.

Koenma didn't know exactly how the archives worked, they were older than him, but the ancient powers tracked souls. That magic was how the Ferry Girls knew who was going to die, and when. Who to pick up, and who to let simmer for a while. It was easily blocked by those who had even a little mystical knowledge, and throwing youki into the mix made it well nigh impossible to get a proper fix on a soul, but it was good enough for day-to-day humans.

Thumbing open the file—far thinner than expected, given the boy's apparent age—he glanced at the brief snippets of information contained within. A few short lines detailing family—born out of wedlock to Japanese parents (not European as he'd assumed.) Father remained in a small mountain village—near a weak point in the barrier. He made a note to send the SF to strengthen it, but that would make it easier for Sayuri to return him—mother died and ferried of hypothermia seven years ago.

And then the most damning thing of all. The final line. The expected date of death that all human souls carried.

It matched the mother's to the day, a mere quarter of an hour after his mother had been ferried. That was…much earlier than he'd expected. He'd thought the kid had been in the Makai for only a few months—a year at most. But seven years? Being taken to the Makai would account for his soul's file being so incomplete however.

Curious. Koenma thought, closing the folder and tucking it under his arm.

Unaccounted for souls weren't rare, but they weren't common either. At least he could probably chalk this one up to demonic influence. Once the taint faded from the kid's spirit energy, the magics should update and mend the inconsistencies in the files, but those seven odd years would always be a blank in his life. Perhaps for the best.

For now, he made a mental note to check back in a few years, setting aside the file for a follow up investigation. For now, he needed to get Sayuri the coordinates so she could drop the boy off. They couldn't keep him asleep forever.

x-x-x

…Sounds. Unfamiliar sounds.

He struggled against the siren's song of sleep. He was generally a light sleeper, especially since Father and Kuro-nii had been spending more time away. The slightest sound of a voice echoing through the den's tunnels had been enough to jerk him awake, scrambling free of his nest of blankets and down the hall to greet them.

His firecat friend hadn't appreciated the habit, growling sleepily and then curling up again, but no matter how serious he looked, Father would smile to see him, proud of his attentiveness even as he scolded him for being awake so late.

He'd appreciated the cat's company, and was happy Father had set her as his minder while both Father and Kuro-nii were out, but he missed Father.

What if those sounds were Father now? What if he missed that brief moment where he had father's attention all to himself? No amount of sleep was worth that.

He forced his sluggish mind to work, prodding his bleary eyes open. He was leaning against something wooden—Father's desk? Had he fallen asleep waiting? But the floor beneath him was hard, not the furred carpet that covered the floor of the main room, or the familiar spongy moss that covered the rest of the den.

And those sounds. The den was quiet, filled with the sigh of moss, and the crackle of the fireplace. With the scratch of Father's pen against paper, or the crinkle of a page turning. Kuro-nii's humming, voice occasionally rising in playful jabs at Father's expense. Low talking, when Father and Kuro-nii huddled around the maps and table, talking about things like guard patrols and targets that kits were not supposed to listen to.

Yet he always did, because that was home. Even the firecat's purring had become to feel like home. The slight patter of her paws on the moss as she walked. Her tiny disapproving mews when he tried to sneak outside…

Outside.

A flash of light. His friend crumpled in a singed pile on the forest floor. She was a fire elemental, they didn't burn—a kind but unfamiliar face, smiling over her, and all he wanted to do was run away—

No.

The unfamiliar sounds magnified. The thud of something heavy settling in a frame. Voices. Unfamiliar voices, calling to each other. The wind. Rustling leaves. Cloth snapping.

He jerked awake, adrenalin rushing through his system. The sky was bright and blue overhead. He stared up at it in disbelief. He'd never seen it during the day, but Kuro-nii had always described it as a sort of red-orange color, and he'd never mentioned the fluffy white clouds before, even if he'd seen them in one of the books in Father's collection.

And around him…a wide open space, with small wooden buildings dotting the ground here and there. People wandered between the buildings, carrying things, talking to others in a dialect that was just different enough to feel foreign even as he could understand it. Trees loomed on the edges of the cleared space, rising higher and higher as they clung to the slope of the mountain.

He may not have personally seen much, but Kuro-nii and Father had been thorough with his education. He knew what Clouds were. Villages. Fields.

And he also knew that they didn't belong at home.

Wide eyed and staring at the world around him, an unexpected slamming noise caused him to jump up and scramble away like a spooked cat. A man stood in the doorway, staring down at him. Black hair—like Kuro-nii, but unlike Kuro-nii's carefree face, this man's was worn and weathered. Older? Sick?

"Hana's eyes…"

Flowers? Flowers didn't have eyes. He took a step back. Slowly. Carefully. Another. The man took a halting step forward, and then let out a frustrated shout, whirling away.

"IT'S BEEN SEVEN YEARS DAMNIT." The man smashed his fist against the wooden frame. Every person in the vicinity stopped in their tracks, the shout and resulting crack of splintered wood drawing nearby attention. "LEAVE THE GODDAMN MISTAKES IN THE PAST."

None noticed the small red-haired mouse bolt as the man slumped, back against the unbroken door frame, and slid to the floor, head buried in his hands. The nearby villagers just shook their heads and moved on with their day, a particularly gossipy old woman quipping to her friend, "Seems 'e's been in the bottle again."

"Thought he swore off the drink when he started pursuing Mina?" The other woman responded, hefting her basket into the other arm to get a better angle to peer at the darkened doorway, "He hasn't looked this bad since Hana and the little one…"

She shook her head sadly and the two continued on their way, a tiny blip in the life of the village, quickly forgotten.

x-x-x

A/N: First of the side stories. This one was supposed to include little-Ken meeting Hiko, but I decided to put that off for another time~. Hope it was an enjoyable read!