Author's Note: Whenever I'm asked to think of an unrelated word to base a story around, I always come up with cake. So I thought I may as well try it ...

Disclaimer: all characters and settings here belong to Togashi Yoshihiro

The walls of Yomi's dining room were totally bare. It made sense: what was the point of decoration if you couldn't appreciate it yourself? The Yomi who Kurama remembered would have gone over the top to impress, even if he hadn't been able to see it. It just proved how much he had changed – the new Yomi, ruler of a third of demon world, exuded a quiet sort of confidence that didn't need to be compensated for with wallpaper. It took some getting used to and this was only the first evening.

And now they were both seated in this spacious if understated room, facing each other across a wooden table with neat silver hemispheres covering the plates in front of them. Kurama eyed his dubiously, remembering what demons mainly ate and trying to come up with an excuse to leave the table. Opposite him, Yomi uncovered his own dish and Kurama's stomach churned a little as he recognised fingernails.

Tentatively, Kurama lifted the lid of his plate, ready to plead illness, until-

"You served me … cake?" he said, almost laughing from relief.

"Well, I thought after all this time in the human realm, our food may no longer be to your tastes. So I had some of my counsellors research typical human food and they discovered… this. I hope it is acceptable."

It looked like a typical sponge, one that could've been lifted straight from his mother's kitchen table. Hell, it even had a blue ribbon tied around it. Inevitably the human memories came flooding back: birthdays, festivals, his mother rushing by in a blur of candles and sweetness. Eating so much he was sick, and his mother there beside him, rubbing his shoulders.

But for it to be here, in his old life… this cake was a misfit, just like Kurama.

Yomi waited until he heard the click of Kurama's cutlery before he began to eat, satisfied his new adviser wasn't going to starve to death. He laughed softly, making the fox demon look up.

"What now? I'm beginning to wonder whether you brought me here to advise you or just be laughed at."

Yomi kept smiling.

"Actually, I wasn't laughing at you at all, Kurama – just a human world saying I never quite understood. 'You can't have your cake and eat it'. Would you mind explaining it to me?"

"It means," said Kurama slowly, coldly, "that you cannot reconcile two mutually incompatible situations. You want more than you deserve – you cannot keep the cake in an undamaged state and eat it at the same time. You must choose one of the options because to have both is impossible as well as greedy."

Yomi tilted his head to one side, thinking it through. He sounds like a textbook. Human world schooling.

"Interesting. But what is the point of possessing a cake without eating it?"

"It's an old human proverb – I didn't make it up." Irritated, Kurama took another bite, hoping Yomi would get the hint and shut up.

"So which option should I choose, if I cannot have both?"

"What?"

"Now that I have the cake, I can either keep it or eat it."

"I am NOT a dessert." Kurama stabbed his fork viciously into a fifth slice. "And I sincerely hope we are still speaking metaphorically."

"Oh, don't worry. You seem to be finding this situation uncomfortable enough already – I would hate to cause you further displeasure." Yomi's face grew serious again. "No. That would overcomplicate things, and I can't afford to let that happen when I'm so close…"

From his place across the table, Yomi felt his old allies' presence, diminished beyond recognition. Which reminded him.

"You've made me almost regret losing my sight," Yomi began, hearing his adviser's heartbeat quicken. Too easy. "I can tell you've changed drastically since our last encounter but … I'm curious as to whether you still look similar."

"No. Of course not. Now I just appear to be a typical teenage boy." There was no need to tell Yomi that he had more than once been mistaken for a girl. He didn't need any more excuses to tease.

"Well, there's your cake. Aren't you going to eat it, Kurama?"

Don't rise to it. Don't say anything, don't look angry. Just stay calm and maybe he'll stop trying to get a reaction. Kurama shovelled more cake into his mouth, forcing the sarcasm down along with the sweetness that was already threatening to become sickly. You can have too much of a good thing, he heard his mother say, thinking bitterly, I've had too much of this place already and I've only been here a day.

Two more slices and Yomi was still watching him in that faintly amused way.

"You don't have to finish it, you know. I won't be offended. Your stomach is probably quite shaken up from the journey between worlds and I'd rather you didn't make yourself sick." He looked nearly concerned.

Go away, Kurama thought. Leave me alone. Eating is NOT a spectator sport and I don't want your concern. If you cared that much you could have provided some other food. Bile rose in his throat but he pushed it down with more icing. I can finish this damn cake by myself.

And he did, and so the meal ended, in silence.

It was some terrible hour of the morning and Kurama groped his way along the walls of corridors in near-total darkness until he discovered the bathroom. Screwing up his eyes in anticipation of the glare, Kurama flicked the switch, stumbled over to the basin and threw up.

Cursing his own childishness, he straightened up, gasping, and attempted to drag his hair back into some sort of ponytail to keep from choking on it. Unfortunately he caught sight of the partially digested cake and gagged again, one hand holding his hair and the other gripping the side of sink with white knuckles.

He still felt terrible, which probably meant there was more to come. And yes, there it was … along with another pair of hands pulling the hair away, cooling the back of neck.

"I told you I didn't want you to make yourself sick," remarked Yomi lightly. "You won't be able to think rationally for me if you're ill."

"Don't touch me," Kurama hissed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and spinning round to face the other demon. Too quickly – the world spun, and Yomi stepped aside neatly to let his adviser connect with the polished floor, wincing slightly at the thud. Kurama groaned.

"I was simply obeying your instructions. Not your most sensible piece of advice, if I may say so."

Kurama glared and started propping himself up – gingerly, until Yomi grabbed an arm and hauled him the rest of the way until he was on his feet. The hand moved up Kurama's shoulder until it reached the top of his head.

"Not as tall as you used to be," said Yomi critically. "Different ears too, naturally." He passed his hand briefly across Kurama's face, feeling the underlying tensions before drawing away. "Hmm. Rounder, more delicate features. I suppose you look more vulnerable now – another point you can turn to your advantage, I'm sure." He paused, hoping for some sort of response but receiving a whole lot of nothing. Perhaps he'd pushed the guy a little too far this time? Oh, this was too much fun.

"Don't worry about the mess – I'll ask someone to clear it up in the morning. You can make your own way back to your bedroom, I'll presume." He felt the air move as Kurama nodded stiffly, leaning on the wall.

"Well, that's all. Try and show more maturity next time, alright?"

"Why, you-!" Yomi felt the other demon's energy spike before he caught the hands that lashed out and held them curiously. So small!

But you can't have it both ways. Yomi let go.

"Get some sleep," he said shortly, and left.