Author's Note: Hello! I go into more detail about this on my profile, but this fic has been in the back of my mind for years, and I like to say it's already finished, even though I'm only now writing it down. It's going to be long, complex, and above all extremely realistic – my characters stay in character because that is who they are, and (hopefully, if I have done my job right) their decisions make sense, even if they are regrettable, because of who they are.

This is primarily a Hiei x OC story, with other minor romances (including the canon ones) thrown in. That being said, just because this story is about a girl, does not mean that the end goal is love. Love and war are complicated, with many sides, and each side has good reasons. Like I alluded to at the end of the summary, once you reach a certain age, questions don't have answers anymore, not because you don't know enough, but because there are no simple answers anymore. 'No simple answers' is a major theme in this story.

I hope you love it as much as I do. Like any writer, I absolutely LOVE reviews, so anything that pops into your head while reading, I would be delighted to hear.

Above all, thank you.

Chapter 1

Koenma was troubled. George knew better than to say anything because the demigod hadn't even touched the plate of rice balls the ogre had brought him, and was instead reading papers at a furious pace. The toddler ruler of the Afterlife was muttering under his breath, and strain as he might, George could only catch the occasional word: "factions…. trouble… not worried…"

"DAMN IT!" Koenma suddenly shouted, banging his fists on the desk and pushing his chair back. He hopped out and started pacing back and forth, ignoring the moaning ogre as he massaged his deafened ears.

The office door opened and Botan cautiously peeked her head inside. "Koenma, sir? Is everything alright?" Koenma glared at her and continued pacing. "No, Botan, everything is not alright. Trouble is brewing in Makai and I seem to be the only person taking it seriously." He threw a dirty look at the condescending reports from demon world's rulers before continuing. "Political unrest is threatening all that we have worked so hard to attain, and I am forced to walk a tight line between not doing enough about it and stepping on the wrong toes."

Koenma sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning against one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Bring me Yusuke, Kurama, and Hiei. All at the same time, preferably." He glared at the carpet so intensely, George thought it a marvel that the spot didn't light on fire.

Botan gave a serious nod. "You can count on me sir! Be back in a jiffy." The large office doors closed behind her and wafted them with her lavender scent. Koenma pushed all thoughts of political turmoil to the back of his mind and inhaled deeply, marveling at how her scent never failed to calm him down.

"Um, Koenma sir? Have you had any luck in courting the Lady Botan?" George asked meekly, weary of being shouted at. Koenma's eyes snapped to him, then he sighed and looked at the floor again, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"No."

Koenma moved back behind his desk, and George understood the conversation to be over.

Kurama held the struggling weasel demon by the throat, pinning him to the cold wall in the dungeon hallway. Emerald eyes almost black in the darkness, he reached into his hair and pulled out a small yellow bulb, which immediately bloomed in his hand.

Careful not to breathe in any of the shimmering pink dust on the flower's white petals, Kurama let go of the traitor and held the flower under his nose as he gasped in ragged breaths. Without a word, Kurama shifted the flower back into a bulb and stowed it safely in his hair again.

"You have just breathed from the Flower of Verity. You will answer my questions with absolute truth, or suffer as your insides rip and crumble."

The demon gasped, only now noticing the faint sparkle that was still in the air and clinging to his vest. Try as he might, he could not wipe any of it off, and so he turned his fearful eyes to Kurama. "What… What do you want to know?" he rasped, massaging his throat.

"I already know that you are Lord Mukuro's spy."

Kurama did not react as the demon grew pale, his teeth chattering in fear. "S-so? Lord M-Mukuro is an e-excellent leader."

"Tell me everything you were asked to find out, and what you managed to successfully pass on."

The weasel demon hesitated just long enough, and suddenly his eyes grew wide, clutching his stomach at the horrifying pain. "I - I was to find out anything I could about Lord Yomi's army! How many men, how many reserves, what kinds of weapons, everything and anything I could!" he began to sob as the pain lessened partially. "I gave Lord Mukuro answers to all of those, and intel on how the hierarchy goes after Lord Yomi and yourself."

The weasel had sunk to his knees by now, his breaths shallow. With each spoken truth, the pain was ebbing away, and kneeling on the floor with his head bowed, the demon was like a sinner in confession.

But Kurama had no mercy to offer.

"Do you know what Lord Mukuro is planning to do with that information?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"No," mumbled the demon on the ground, wiping tears out of his eyes.

Kurama barely stifled a sigh. The urge to rub his eyes and groan a few choice profanities was strong, but hundreds of years of running with bandits and criminals kept his hands steady and his face impassive.

"Very well. Is there anything in regards to your spying that you have not told me about yet?"

The demon thought frantically, before the pain could catch up to him again. "Lord Mukuro has no desire to attack Lord Yomi per se, she just wants to be prepared – she believes Lord Yomi is in fact plotting against her! And – and – General Hiei tried to talk her out of this. I know he is your friend, so if that matters… There's nothing else." The weasel demon waited cautiously, one eye nervously closed, but no waves of pain fell upon him.

Kurama gritted his teeth silently, a muscle in his jaw tensing. "You know far too much."

The fox demon strode away, turning back at the door to the next hallway corridor, idly looking at the large flower that had sprouted where the demon had been kneeling only moments before. The sun was gleaming off the purple petals like they were made of velvet, a very pretty grave for a traitor. "This could be a problem. Hm."

"Hyah!" Hokushin's leg flew through the air, aiming a kick at a shoulder that would have broken if Yusuke hadn't jumped out of the way. The monk pursued in a tireless barrage of kicks and punches, forcing Yusuke to go on the defensive. His muscles warm and fluid under a sheen of sweat, Yusuke finally found an opening, and put all his strength into an uppercut to Hokushin's jaw, snapping the monk's head (and several feet of his extended neck) back in a sickening way, before roundhouse kicking him straight into the stomach.

"TIME!" yelled another monk, holding a stopwatch and clipboard. "Lord Yusuke landed 103 hits; Hokushin, 87."

Yusuke grinned, bent over wheezing. "Damn, Hoku. You might actually beat me one of these days." The monk was laying on the mat like a starfish, all his limbs back to normal lengths, panting. "Not… any time… soon… Lord Yusuke." Yusuke swigged some water and held out his hand to the monk, jerking him upright. "We'll see. And don't call me "Lord", I've said that like a million times."

Yusuke turned to the other monk, accepting his shirt back. "What's for lunch, I'm starving." The monk bowed and talked to the floor. "Actually sir, before lunch, there is an emissary from Spirit World waiting to speak with you." Hokushin muttered a foreign word and spat on the floor, and many of the other monks in the training arena did the same.

Yusuke raised his eyebrows. "First of all, don't spit on my floor, gross, and second, what the hell was that?" Hokushin's face twisted. "Reitju. It is a word from ancient religious texts, although today it is an insult really. It was used to describe the one true god, whose power spread through the worlds like a tree. Today's rulers of the Afterlife overstep their boundaries, and have no respect for the people of Makai. They think they can tell us what to do, and that we are at their beck and call, as if their world were somehow better than our own!" Hokushin's face was flushed before, but now it was almost purple, a vein in his forehead throbbing. Most of the monks were nodding along, or staring awkwardly at anywhere but their ruler.

Yusuke frowned. "You know I used to work for Spirit World, right?"

He watched as the angry monk blanched, waving his hands frantically, as if to physically discard the notion. "Yes, but that was different. You knew nothing of the three worlds when they plucked you from death and decided to use you. No one blames you."

Hokushin meant to be reassuring, but the half-demon was still on edge. How deep did this prejudice against Spirit World run? Yusuke wasn't a man of words; diplomacy and tact had always been Kurama's forte, so he decided to let it be for now.

Yusuke clapped his hands together, getting most of the chalk off. "Well, good. Better go see this damn representative, then, before I die of – before lunch." He had almost made a starvation joke again. Yusuke cringed, remembering the last time he had joked about dying when he was whining to the kitchen staff for a late night snack. Raizen's death was still too recent.

He walked off, shoulders hunched, mindlessly mumbling to himself that no one should have ever let him be in charge of anything.

Hiei lived for the thrill of pushing himself to the brink of death. The high that came with pushing his muscles harder, faster, than they had ever been pushed before, with his entire body screaming in protest but still compliant, still capable, was unlike any other. He knew that the day he could no longer push the brink further away, would be the day that it would turn and start chasing him down instead.

As his sword made a clean cut through the last worthless demon's spine, he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Mukuro. If Hiei were a different man, he would have smiled at the sight of her, framed by sunshine in the doorway.

Wiping the blood off his sword with a rag, he took the stairs two at a time, bowing mockingly when he reached her. "My lady."

"Oh shut up," she said, fighting the desire to roll her eyes. And to smile. "Hito was just killed by your friend Kurama."

Hiei shrugged, chugging water out of a flagon. "Good. He smelled."

Her nostrils flared. "That he did, but we can only guess at how much he told Yomi's general before being executed."

Hiei sighed silently, bored. "Everything. Kurama is not a novice at extracting information." What did it matter anyway? It's not like Hito was a high-ranking officer. And this was supposed to be peacetime, damn it.

"I assumed as much. And clearly you don't give a shit, but what if Yomi finds out I was trying to assess his army?" Mukuro asked, looking suddenly ten years older as the sun hit her the wrong way, leaning against the wall. Leadership isn't easy.

Hiei grit his teeth. "I told you that was stupid. If you're lucky, Kurama will hold on to the information for a while. But he won't risk his cushy life in Gandara if he thinks Yomi is suspicious." Hiei sheathed his sword, sparkling clean again, and began to walk past Mukuro. Hot food and a random maid with her legs spread were exactly what he needed right now.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Mukuro ground out.

Over his shoulder, he called back, "Maybe. You'll need the strength, if Yomi comes after you…"

Mukuro watched him walk away, wondering if he was right.

Two towns over from Mukuro's fortress, still in Alaric proper, Mina was braiding dandelions into Relle's hair, but the child kept squirming whenever a hair was snagged.

"Sit still! You silly girl, this is going to be all lopsided if you keep wiggling around."

Relle made a face. "I always thought the older girls look so nice on Summer Solstice, but this hu-urts! Are you done yet?"

Mina twitched from behind the girl. Children.

Summer Solstice is a cherished tradition in Pike's Village, and throughout the towns in Alaric. It's a week-long festival celebration that ends on the longest day of the year, the day when the most is possible. Or some kind of waffle like that.

The whole town looks prettier than usual during this time. The houses and pubs are decorated with wispy white paper strips, hung from window to window, and the streets are cleaner. Restaurants offer their finest (and most expensive) meals all week, and the scraps in the garbage are of an equally higher quality. There's singing in the pubs, and everyone is more cheerful, and kind.

Lord Mukuro and some of his men ride through Alaric all week and visit every town, large and small. Pike's Village is always the last, on the eve of the Summer Solstice itself. The town's restaurants, pubs and inns lay out a massive feast for them, tables groaning with hot food and cold drink for at least a mile down the cobblestones on Main Street, and Lord Mukuro and his men spend the night feasting and celebrating with the locals. The school puts on a play that night, in the town square; it's written by the older children, so it's usually a comedy with lots of fighting and raunchy jokes, and never fails to please.

Teenagers sneak off to the creeks in the forest, which have finally thawed by this point, and all the young available girls over the age of 12 wear flowers in their hair, and receive small tokens from the boys who chase them. Mina had never participated herself, but she had agreed to help the girl who was so much like a sister to her prepare for her very first one. 'I sorely regret that now,' she thought to herself wryly. 'At least after tonight, everything will go back to normal for another year.'

"So, any boys you're hoping will chase you down today?" Mina resigned herself to the question, anything to distract the child from her whining.

Relle grew serene, a small smile on her face. "Just one."

Mina waited a beat. Then, "Is that all I get? My hands are going to smell like dandelions for days, and that's all you're going to share with me?" she joked.

Yata opened the door to the backyard, his large belly proceeding him. He grunted at the sight of them. "Good, I was just about to ask you to pull out the weeds today."

Relle giggled. "No father, I'm finally a part of the festival! I'll get gifts from boys!"

Yata shook his head. "Time flies by too damn fast. Mina, when you're done with that, come down to the shop. I'm adding more layers to our mysterious customer's sword." He snorted, and turned back inside to escape the damn heat.

Yata was the best sword smith in all the land (or so claimed the sign in the window), and they had a customer who had sent a footservant with the instructions and money for a custom sword. He (or she, as Mina kept insisting) wanted the metal folded so many times, Yata nearly had a heart attack when the trembling servant told him, but the money was good.

"There. All done." Mina smiled at the beautiful young girl, the dandelions standing out against the child's dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes.

If you didn't know better, you would have assumed that Mina and Relle must be sisters. The only difference really is that instead of blue, Mina's eyes are brown with specks of green. Mina had long dark brown hair too, but unlike Relle's gentle curls it was always tangled and messy; Mina liked to say it had a life of its own, whenever Relle's mother, Korellina, gave her a disapproving look. Like her namesake, Korellina never had a hair out of place.

Mina had traveled for at least a hundred years, crisscrossing back and forth over Makai, moving for the sake of moving, until she happened upon Yata's shop in Pike's Village. She had always been good with a sword, and she offered her service as an apprentice, in return for room and board. Yata might look scary to some – big belly, large nose with lots of hair coming out of it, always grumpy – but he had a gentle heart, and he took the starving girl in when Relle was 7.

A purposeful "Ahem," shook Mina out of her memories. Blinking, she saw Relle standing above her with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. Relle was beautiful, but she had definitely inherited some personality traits from her father, a fact that never failed to make Mina grin.

"Yes, Your Highness?" Mina joked, rising to her feet and brushing the grass off her pants.

Relle rolled her eyes. When had she become such a miniature adult? "It's your turn. Sit."

Mina's eyes nearly fell off her face. Relle smiled. "I know, I know, you don't participate, but come on, look, I got these just for you! You don't have to wear flowers, just these. Pretty please?" The child was holding out black ribbons, the edges delicately stitched with white. Trying not to think of how much she was about to resemble a funeral attendee, Mina reluctantly sat down. "Ow!" she blurted, as Relle snagged her hair. "Ah, revenge is sweet…" the child sang, smirking as she wrapped the ribbons beautifully through a few braids in Mina's wild hair.