Began: August 2009

Hello and welcome to another story by yours truly. Out of all of the multi-chaptered stories I've posted so far, this one is the newest (and, if I may say so, most well-written) of them all. Therefore, I'm extremely excited to present it to you. Pretty soon now, I think I'll retire from fanfiction, and when I do, I will be happy to know that this is one of the last things I wrote. I tried so very, very hard to keep everyone in character and keep you entertained; I hope you'll find this worth reading. This is the highly edited version; you will soon find the full version on other sites (see my profile.)

96 Hours

1. The Stakes

It was by sheer luck that they caught her. She would have made it away if it hadn't been for Kuwabara's spiritual senses; he barely realized that she had left the fight moments after she'd done so. He chased her, panting and dodging trees, through at least a mile of forest before she tripped on a root and went sprawling. Kuwabara saw her too late to stop running himself—his long gait was hard to cease on a dime. He flew over her, and only stopped her from diving away yet again by latching a hand around her ankle. He pulled her closer to him and tried to hold her still; he couldn't in all his honor fight her, but he couldn't let her escape, either.

Kurama and Yusuke came running not long after, and that was good, because while she was too small to get away from Kuwabara, he was already tired of keeping her as close to him as possible. She bit and scratched, kicked and screamed, and in the end, Kurama subdued her with a whiff of some plant. He offered no explanation, but no one asked for one—Kurama was in no mood to be questioned, and the important part was that she was now their captive. Yusuke and Kuwabara never saw her again after the ogres carried her off to a deep cell within the Spirit World prison. Kurama did not accompany her unconscious body or the guard that took her down there, though he wanted to; there was more to attend to upstairs, first. He only prayed that she would not find a way to escape the burly ogre in charge of her.

"We are one step closer to finding Hiei," Koenma said, trying to cheer them up. Kurama's face was a mask of stone and ice; he would not let his anger show through just yet. He needed Koenma in a semi-pleasant mood if he wanted to get somewhere with their hostage.

"I bet she doesn't even know where he is," Kuwabara muttered. He sounded put-off, but it was hard not to when Hiei had been missing—kidnapped, they hoped—for three weeks.

"I'm going out to search again," Yusuke said, heading for the door before anyone could stop him. For a minute, Kuwabara hesitated. Then he followed the shorter boy out of the office. Neither Koenma nor Kurama made an attempt to stop them. When the door had shut behind the boys, Kurama turned to face the little ruler again.

"Yusuke hasn't slept in days, has he?" the prince asked. Kurama shook his head slightly; to his knowledge, Yusuke hadn't slept a full night's sleep since Hiei's disappearance. He also hadn't had much to eat, but Koenma didn't necessarily need to know that. He was worried enough about all of them as it was.

"Koenma, I have a favor to ask of you," Kurama began carefully. It was not so much that he worried that Koenma would deny his request—his actions wouldn't change much if Koenma did—but he would feel better about his plans if he had consent of the little god.

"If it's about the prisoner . . ." Koenma guessed correctly. He looked at Kurama with narrowed eyes, but the fox did not flinch.

"I know that Spirit World is subject to many laws regarding captives and their treatment. I know that there isn't much you can do about her, or to use her to help us find Hiei."

"But, as a human who merely works for me, you think you can use her," Koenma guessed again. His eyebrows were coming together on his face; the wrinkles looked like seams in his pale skin. Kurama thought that Yusuke wasn't the only one getting little sleep lately.

"I do."

"Yusuke and Kuwabara—"

"Will know nothing of this," Kurama said, his tone already beginning to show anger. Koenma's eyes widened a bit in retaliation. "They won't understand, and they would better serve Hiei by going on their searches," Kurama explained, though he didn't at all feel like it.

"The searches are fruitless," Koenma said, leaning back in his chair. Kurama realized that the demigod was about to have a lengthy discussion with him, and it ruffled his metaphorical feathers. He did not have time to debate ethics of imprisonment.

"No, they aren't. They make Yusuke and Kuwabara feel as though they are accomplishing something, and they might stumble upon Hiei's location or a lead, though the odds are admittedly low. Most importantly, it will keep them busy while I turn my attention elsewhere," Kurama said, folding his arms. He was not going to be stubborn—he was going to be impossible. There was no time for leniency.

"Are you sure Hiei's alive?" Koenma asked for the umpteenth time. Kurama wondered whether Koenma didn't subconsciously wish that Hiei would simply turn up dead; that would give them all a little less reason to worry. Of course, Koenma would already know if Hiei was dead, given his role in the afterlife—which made Kurama all the angrier to have to answer that question again.

"I'm positive," he said confidently. "I've seen your cells in the upper prison block. They will function well for my purpose. I'll need one furnished to my exact specifications, and I need a competent guard, as well."

Koenma rubbed his temples, sighing slowly. It was a long time before he looked back up at Kurama. "I'm on very thin ice, here, Kurama. You don't have the same obligations that I do to act humanely toward my captives . . . and yet, you work for me. It could be said that in letting you do this, I authorized it and am responsible in the long run."

"I understand your position," Kurama began, his anger making his tone somewhat testy. Koenma had his job to lose; Kurama had his best friend. It was hard to be sympathetic. "No one needs to know what goes on there besides me and a few ogres. If you have any strong ones to spare, I'd appreciate it. They need to be trustworthy, as well," Kurama said.

Koenma sighed yet again; this one was more for melodramatics. "How many do you need?"

"As many as you can give me. I want a constant watch on her by at least two guards. It would also help if I could remain in Spirit World until it's over." Koenma stood on his chair; that way, he was only a few inches shorter than Kurama. The fox's eyes held a cool gaze of something he couldn't quite read. He wouldn't call it evil, but that was too close for comfort.

"Kurama, there are some laws I cannot bend. Specifically the one pertaining to how long we keep a prisoner who has not been sentenced to a jail term."

The fox paused. This was the only part of his plan that required some sacrifice; the longer he kept the captive under his thumb, the better the situation. Then again, they didn't know how long Hiei would be able to hold out in his current condition (whatever that was; Kurama knew he was alive, but not much else) and Koenma had a point. They couldn't keep her forever, as much as Kurama would have liked to. "I am only requesting ninety-six hours," Kurama said.

Koenma looked at him as though he'd sprouted a long glowing horn on his head. "Ninety-six? Are you sure?"

"That will be quite sufficient, as long as I have your consent for what I've planned and what I need."

Koenma hesitated for a long, long time—longer than Kurama could stand. He was practically shaking by the time that Koenma nodded. "I grant you permission to hold this captive for ninety-six hours beginning at the start of the next one, which is five o'clock pm today, Sunday, the 21st of October, by the human calendar," he said, and Kurama bowed in thanks. "You may take my twelve most trusted ogres, and whatever specifications you ask for her cell will be fulfilled."

"Thank you, Koenma. I promise, this will be effective." Kurama turned to go; the prisoner had already been waiting too long.

"Prove it to me by finding Hiei," Koenma said, talking a bit louder to make sure that Kurama heard. "And Kurama?"

"Yes?" Kurama said, somewhat impatiently. His hand was already reaching for the handle of the door, but Koenma ignored it.

"Don't kill her."

Kurama could have laughed, had the situation not been so desperate. "There is no need to tell me that. Dead, she cannot help us. Alive, she could tell us where Hiei is."

"Good. Also, remember that if word gets out, you did this without consent. Remember that I knew nothing. And, of course, if you go down, you go down alone. I cannot afford to lose my position, especially with Hiei missing," Koenma said grimly. "Clear?"

"As ice," Kurama said, bowing slightly, and left the room. The door closed with a loud snap, and Koenma set about trying to ignore his protesting conscience.

* * *

NINETY-SIX HOURS REMAINING

The ogres that Koenma assigned to do his bidding were much more impressive than Jorge was. They were tall, burly, and strong, and they spoke little. Ten of them met Kurama on his way to the dungeons, as two of them had been the ones to escort the demoness to her cell. The biggest one spoke with Kurama as they went. He offered to lead them, but Kurama knew the way. "Your orders, sir?" the ogre asked, walking alongside Kurama as they navigated toward the prison. Kurama looked straight ahead, moving quickly.

"Do everything as I say. Tell no one what transpires in the dungeon. No one. I doubt even Koenma will want to know. If he asks, tell him to take it up with me. Speak nothing amongst yourselves. One of you will be in the room with our captive at all times. Another will watch outside the room at all times. Make sure that the shift changes leave no room for error. Keep your guards well-rested and well-fed. Shifts of four hours—six of you outside and six inside—will be sufficient."

After a long pause, the burly ogre, who, truth be told, was frightened of the hard eyes of this "human," spoke again. "Anything else, sir?"

"Not yet. I want to speak to our guest and examine the room before I make any more requests. After, I'll need someone to show me to a spare room where I can stay until this business is done."

"How long will that be?" the ogre asked quietly.

"Ninety-six hours at the most. Hopefully, it will be quite less than that." The rest of the walk passed in silence. Kurama was thinking too hard to make idle chatter, and the large ogre seemed to recognize this. Kurama knew that Hiei was alive, but he had told no one how he knew that—mostly because he believed that it would hinder rather than help them. Hiei was currently just powerful enough to make a telepathic connection with the fox—one that he hardly ever dropped. On the rare times that it was severed, Kurama assumed that Hiei was hibernating. The fact that this had happened more than once in three weeks, however rarely, frightened Kurama. The news from Hiei was both good and bad. That he was able to contact Kurama told the fox several things—he still had control of his Jagan eye (somewhat,) and the enemy didn't know the extent of his powers, or the enemy had no way of discouraging Hiei from using his Jagan. Hiei was alive, and semi-conscious. Some of the messages had been scrambled and slightly incoherent, but only once or twice had they been complete gibberish.

More than actual thoughts came emotions. The great majority of these were negative; fear, anger, shame. The last more so than any other, and Kurama could only imagine what might be making Hiei feel this way. The fire demon usually controlled most of his emotions well, but when they came across the telepathic channel, they were unbridled and strong. Kurama was beginning to feel somewhat unbalanced himself. The bad news of Hiei's messages: the enemy had captured him, the enemy was somehow keeping him too weak to escape (and in a state of slight delusion), and the enemy was torturing him. As they walked, heels clicking lightly on the tiled floor, Kurama dragged his mind away from Hiei's current situation. He had seen too much—had done too much—not to know what Hiei could be suffering now.

Demons tortured for two reasons, primarily: information or pleasure. It was unlikely that they were torturing Hiei for information; he didn't know any top-secret Spirit World business, and he knew little about it in general. Without the ties to Spirit World, Hiei was as anonymous as any other demon. The enemy had known enough about the team to capture one of the stronger members, and probably needed to know nothing more about them. Therefore, pleasure: a sadist with no rationality other than the high he got from causing pain. Hiei would talk eventually—anything for release, after a certain point—but it wouldn't matter. Nothing he did would matter in this situation. There were two ways out: death and rescue. Kurama was very intent that the latter should be the event to transpose, and he tried to convey this to Hiei at every opportunity. Occasionally the response was good, and other times it was as if Hiei hadn't heard him at all. These times made Kurama fear that the situation was worse than he'd believed.

He had walked to the dungeons only once before, and on that occasion he had been heading toward Hiei. Now, he was heading toward the person who might be able to locate Hiei. The parallelism did not escape the fox as he finally turned to the long, dark staircase that would bring them to the cells of the Spirit World prison. The prison was broken into upper and lower divisions; demons like Hiei, with extraordinary or rare powers that might help them break out of the prison were kept on the lower level. Kurama's captive was currently being held on the upper level, which was still several flights below the rest of the compound. It was drafty down there, and at least three flights before the bottom. They walked carefully, some of the ogres taking up burning torches from their places on the walls. Kurama could hear only muffled scuffling from the inhabitants of the prison; the captives held here were serving their sentences, and some of them would never be released. Finally, they came to the end of the stairs. It was a long hallway, filled with doors that were solid metal except for a doggie-flap on the bottom (for food) and a small one-way mirror at eye level, showing a good view of the prisoner inside the room. The doors swung in, he noted carefully. No detail was too small; he filed and saved every bit of sensory input for further use against his enemy. They walked to a door about halfway down the hall before stopping in front of it. This was room number 343.

A guard used a personalized key to open the door; it was a combination microchip and old-fashioned tumbler lock. Kurama frowned slightly at that, as they were somewhat easy to break into. Of course, the problem would come from someone wanting to break out, theoretically. Though the hallway was dark, the room that they walked into was brightly lit. There were long bars of light on the ceiling, and few shadows. A chair sat in the center of the room, and there was a folded-up one in the corner. A guard was standing near the door, watching the captive with bored (but cognizant) eyes. He looked no different from the other ogres, and Kurama paid him no mind.

Their captive, their one link to Hiei, was sitting in the chair. She wasn't very impressive; with pale skin, shoulder-length, choppy brown hair, and large blue eyes, she looked like any other demon Kurama had ever seen. She wore a tank top and sweat pants for fighting, and her shoes were humble. She clasped her hands—dirty and calloused—in her lap, but she looked at them without fear, submissiveness, or surprise. Thick metal shackles connected her wrists and ankles. She was thin, and somewhat sickly, and didn't look as though she could put up a good fight. However, Kurama was wary as he entered the room. It would not do to have her escape or wound anyone else while she was here.

The demoness—Gail, though Kurama didn't know it yet—looked at the redhead with silent trepidation. It was not that he seemed particularly note-worthy; other than appearing human, he was unremarkable. She had seen him once before, at the fight where she'd been caught by that foolish human. His fighting had been superior, but he hadn't seemed very dangerous. That impression had since changed. His eyes, most notably, were completely devoid of mercy or kindness. They looked at her as though she was the scum of the earth, or worse, and they looked as though they would not blink at the idea of ripping out her throat.

She held back a shiver, but just barely; he even walked like a feral creature, calm and collected but with anger giving his movements certain flair. The redhead brought the other chair over, sitting it in front of her. The ogre who had been in the room with her left to stand guard outside while the big one who had accompanied Kurama stepped in, closing the door behind him. He stood, vigilant, in the corner. There was nothing to do for it. She couldn't run; she'd seen the way these ogres walked, and they'd snap her legs if she tried it. But she also thought that this boy—he hardly seemed human, but she could smell little else on him—needed her for some reason, and he obviously needed her alive. Kurama sat in the chair across from the demon and put his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands and rested his chin on them, staring at her very intently. There was nothing to hope for in that gaze. "Your name?" he asked, voice soft but stern.

"Gail," she said, seeing no reason to lie about something so trivial. It wasn't as if she needed an alias in the clutches of the enemy.

"You work for a demon called Rika, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"I don't have time to play games," Kurama said quickly, dropping his hands from his face. They dangled between his legs harmlessly, but Gail was afraid of them. They looked like killing hands.

"Well, obviously I have all the time in the world," she said, and smirked, gesturing around as far as her shackled hands would allow her. Kurama gave her a look of utter derision.

"A demon is missing—one who is very important to me and Spirit World," Kurama said, determinedly keeping his voice in check and his relationship with Hiei (friendship, that is to say) vague. The more desperate he appeared, the less impressive he would be to her.

"Is that so? Well, then, I guess I'm here because you think I know where he's being held," Gail guessed. She folded her arms; the chains gave her just enough leeway. The look on the redhead's face only darkened.

"I know that you know where he is," Kurama said. "He is a fire demon, short, with a third eye and black hair. Rika has held him for just over three weeks."

"Hey, I'm just Rika's right-hand," she smiled mysteriously. "What do I know about the demons he kidnaps?"

Kurama stood abruptly, resting one hand on the back of his chair as he walked around it, looking away from her. "You have told me enough for now," he said. "Your first mistake was letting me know that you knew my teammate had been captured, and not murdered. Your second was telling me that you are in fact Rika's right-hand demon," he said, turning back to her slowly. "If you are indeed so important to him, then you will know where he operates, and where he is keeping my teammate."

"I-I . . ." Gail stuttered. How could she have been so stupid? She thought it was the expression on his face—even in victory, his eyes did not betray anything other than an icy chill.

"Am I to assume that you aren't going to tell me where he is right this minute?" Kurama asked. She probably knew that he wasn't going to kill her—couldn't afford to kill her—but it would be beneficial for her to fear him just the same.

"I'm keeping my mouth shut from now on," she said, and closed it tightly. Kurama almost smiled.

"I thought as much. Know this," he said, placing both hands on the chair and leaning slightly over it, looking directly into her eyes, "I have promised to release you in ninety-six hours. Therefore, I will make you reveal the location of Rika's hideouts—all of them, if he has more than one—in the next four days, and I will use any means necessary to do so."

"You won't kill me," she sneered, and he had not seen such an ugly expression on any face in a long time. It was the expression of a cornered animal that needs to convince herself that she has the upper hand.

"No," he said softly, standing up straight. "No. But by the time you speak the name of the place where my comrade is being held, you will wish I had." The redhead turned and walked to the guard, keeping his steps slow and not revealing any of the anger that he felt. The guard saw his face before it was smoothed over, and recoiled slightly, praying that he could take the night shift when the fox would not be around.

"Take her clothes," Kurama instructed, looking at the guard with the intensity of a bright fire. "She will wear nothing from now on." He went to the door without looking back at Gail, who was staring with wide eyes at the back of his head. The guard on the other side opened the door—there was not even a handle on the inside—and let him out. Inside, he could hear the large guard wrestling the clothes from Gail's back. He turned away from the sound, feeling nothing. He looked at the guard who was stowing away the key he held and checking through the mirror every few minutes, which was exactly what Kurama wanted him to be doing.

"Keep the lights on tonight," Kurama said to him, his face neutral.

"All night, sir?" the ogre asked, slightly surprised. Kurama nodded slowly, realizing that this might be the first serious interrogation—if that was what it truly was—that any Spirit World employee had witness in centuries. He hoped the ogres wouldn't feel the need to blabber on about it to their friends or therapists. In any case, he was a hardened hand at extracting information from unwilling sources, and he knew enough about Gail to begin making preparations. This technique of keeping the enemy awake for days at a time was a cruel one, but it almost always yielded a positive result (for the interrogator.) With utter resolve, he stared the ogre in the face.

"Yes. She does not sleep tonight."