Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pale hands caress a rounded belly, swollen with the weight of child. The hostel worker is watching from her desk, trying to hid her stares behind a magazine of little importance.

Keiko doesn’t care.

All she can focus on is the fluttering behind her stretched out skin, the tiny little life forms she has spent near nine months caring for, nine months that she has... loved them. Continues to love them.

She had heard her father’s words, had allowed herself to listen and she had tried, oh by the Gods, had she tired. But the truth is-

Asakura Keiko cannot accept the death of her children. She will not accept it is the only way.

Her father has never been wrong before. It goes without question that she is going to birth the reincarnation of Asakura Hao. And yet-

She doesn’t care.

He is not just Hao. He is her child. And she cannot, will not, live in a world where Asakura Keiko is not the best mother to her children that she can possibility be.

It is why she is here, on the other side of Japan, two days beyond her due date and sheltering in a hostel for women. She is ashamed to have lied in order to gain entry, to have plastered her face with make-up in order to simulate a bruise upon her cheekbone. She had made no claims on what she is running from; the workers no doubt assumes an abusive marriage. It could not even further from the truth. But this lie will be the concept that saves her innocent child. It will be the assumption that allows Asakura Hao to be reborn into the world.

And still, Keiko cannot find it within herself to care. She has closed herself off from the spirits, from the shades and the gods. No one will find her until she wishes to be found, that much she can ensure.

Fingertips grazing the swell of her flesh once more, Keiko sighs, sinking deeper into the chair as she awaits the key to a loaned room. She doesn’t know when Hao will gain his memories, when his consciousness will be imparted upon the body she is soon to bring in to the world. When he had been reborn a Patch, no one had known until it was too late. No one had thought to look.

She could have years with her child. She could a single day. But there is one thing she knows for certain.

“They will have to kill me before they touch you. Either of you.”

She goes into labour two days later.

One of the staff is a retired nurse; not from a maternity ward but she knows enough that Keiko feels confident in denying the offer for an ambulance. She will have her babies here, far away from any form of official record in case things get... strange.

She’s far away from Mother and Father, from her dear husband who helped her create these two babes but it is all for the best. She has to believe that.

The pain is intense. She’s read up on it, spoken to other mothers, but to know and to know are two very different things. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and then there is a pause. A single wail and Keiko opens her eyes, peers through the sweat the drips between her lashes. The nurse cradles a baby, all wrinkled and pruned, skin a flushed pink and head slightly misshapen from their trying ordeal.

“My baby,” Keiko gasps, arms outstretched, entrusting the pillows to support her back, to continue supporting her body as she in turn supports the child not yet born.

“Sweetheart, there’s another-”

“My baby.” Keiko repeats and this time, it is a demand. Some Furyoku leaks out of her iron control, not enough to allow her to be tracked, but certainly enough to give her words some weight. The child that may or may not be Hao is passed to her but-

Keiko forgets it all.

She forgets that there’s another boy on the way, forgets that her husband isn’t here like how she dreamed when they’d first agreed to try. She forgets that she may be holding the very death of civilisation.

All that matters is her baby, her first-born, her son, is cradled close to her chest, head to her collarbone and tiny body resting between the valley of her breasts.

Then, the second born takes over and Keiko is back in a world of pain. And no matter how she screams, how she clenches the bed frame right with her right, her left hand remains impossibly soft as she continues to hold her firstborn close.

Her babes sleep now. Both of them, side by side in the nest of blankets she has created on her loaned bed. It’s not a king, but nor is it a single either. It is wide enough for her exhausted body and the two she has brought into this world. Their tiny chests rise and fall, out of sync with one another. The youngest has one hand reaching for her firstborn.

Gods. Mikihisa had offered her some of the most ridiculous names known to man and god, all too happy with the thought of a firstborn, then with the thought of twins. Their happiness hadn’t lasted, not in the wake of her father’s announcement.

Yet, here she is, having stolen away in the dead of the night, bucking her duty, everything that has made her the Asakura heiress for two little lifeforms. Mikihisa was not by her side as she brought their children into the world; she can only hope that, one day, she will be able to balance out the sins and betrayals she has committed.

“Asakura Yoh,” she decides, stroking the bountiful curve of her youngest’s cheek, submitting herself to a world where her child bears the name Mikihisa favoured. “And Asakura Hao.”

Something heavy seems to settle within the room, for all that there is no erupting disaster. Keiko cannot tell if it is the weight of destiny or the will of her ancestor (of her child) pressing upon her shoulders. But she knows this. Asakura Keiko has two sons. And for as long as she draws breath, she will not allow another to touch them.

“I think you must be the eldest. I don’t think you would live with the knowledge of being the youngest, the baby. And I don’t know when you will gain your memories, when your conscious will awaken.” Keiko smooths her hand down the fabric clad back of her firstborn, of the child she has christened Hao. “But I know you are my son. And I will always love you. That is not something the weight of our family’s legacy shall ever be able to steal.”

She is... surprised to find both her babes wailing the next morning. Not that she was not expecting them to cry just... she had feared she would wake to only one crying. That Hao would have magically disappeared into the night, never to be seen again until it was time to claim his crown.

But no, both her children are still there, wrapped in the blankets the nurse had dug from storage and screaming to break their fast. And Keiko is not sure how she can look upon such ugly creatures and feel so much love flood into her.

But, by the Gods, does she drown in it.

A week into her stay at the hostel, Keiko has settled in. She has a sling of sorts, fashioned from blankets in order to careful cradle one twin to her chest, allowing her to carry the other with her arms. Perhaps she is being ridiculous, stupid in a way that is unfathomable, but she cannot bear to be parted from them.

The receptionist always offers her a knowing smile, has shared stories of her own toddler (and, may the Gods bless her, has given her the boy’s hand-me-down clothes). And Keiko has always listened politely, even if she knows somewhere in the back of her mind that her children will be greater, will be so much more than the infant this woman brags about.

And it is like a physical wound, to not have Mikihisa with her, by her side as he had sworn he would be when they wed. She dares not even think of her parents, of their disappointment and fury. So, she doesn’t. She pays them as little mind as she can and instead focuses on those that have become the very epicentre of her world.

Yoh is a cheerful baby, for all that he is awake so very rarely. He squirms as much as his tiny body is capable of, hazy eyes trying desperately focus in on her face and failing utterly every time. It never fails draws a delighted laugh out of her, a sound that often has her youngest turning to look in her direction, should she not be right there in front of him.

Hao is a whole other kettle of fish. He cries only when he needs to be attended to and it is never for long. One sharp, shrill sound is enough to grab her attention. Keiko is not ashamed to say she is perhaps a little obsessed. It’s normal for new parents, she tells herself. Completely normal.

Both of their umbilical cords, those tiny little stumps, have fallen clean off, though the belly buttons are not yet healed. It causes some issues for Yoh, who disagrees with the gentle press of the nappy against his stomach. Hao gives no indication it bothers him. Still, Keiko gently strokes his head just the same as she does Yoh’s, ever so careful over that pulsating soft spot.

And she talks to them. As often as she can, be it about what is happening in the world, about what she can remember of her own childhood, or even what she can see. She must have described the shibazakura she can see out of the window in thirty different ways already. But still, she continues. These babes have grown with her belly, have listened to the rise and fall of her voice and she will continue with that, will hope they draw comfort from it. A reassurance that she is here. Keiko will not be going anywhere... Except to the doctor’s for a check-up, but both boys have to come with her for their first shot anyway.

The look Hao gives her as the doctor slips a needle beneath his skin is positively frosty. Keiko has read the leaflet she’d been given aloud, the explanations of what would be happening and why. Yoh had been blissfully oblivious (and burst into tears the moment he’d been subjected to his shot) but Hao had... well, he had laid still and tilted his head ever so slightly in her direction, peering out of the pram with his bleary infant eyes. He’d listened. And he hadn’t cried.

“Never had a non-crier before,” the doctor mutters, eyebrows climbing up his head and Keiko smiles, reaching across the little bed her eldest is currently resting on to tap a finger against his palm. His tiny hand instantly closes around hers, that newborn grasping reflex holding strong and Keiko presses as many of her fingertips as she can to the backs of his hand, just luxuriating in the skin-to-skin contact.

“The boys will need their first round of shots at two months old.”

“Right. Can I make an appointment for that now then?”

She’s back in the hostel room, the soles of her feet pressed together and her legs in a rough approximation of a diamond, a blanket stretched out between them. Yoh rests upon it, his wide eyes staring up and her as she works her fingers across his tiny, tiny chest. She’s read the research that baby massages are supposed to be good for them, supposed to encourage growth and that it’s a brilliant way to bond. So, here she is, no doubt looking like a loon but quite unable to care. Hao rests on the bed beside them, sleeping now. The fluttering rise of fall of his ribcage is the exact same every time she looks at him from the corner of her eyes, the fine dusting of his baby hair impossibly persisting, despite the fact Yoh’s has all fallen out as it’s supposed to.

“I’ll have to start looking for a job,” Keiko decides, even as she looks down at her darling boys and feels her heart clench and swell in time with the way their tiny chests move. “I moved a fair amount of my savings into a separate account once I decided…” she trails off, wondering how to word it. But, there’s no way of scarpering around the truth of it. “Once I decided I could not follow through with Dad’s plan to kill you. I don’t care if you’re the reborn spirit of an ancestor destined to destroy the world. God, there’ve been hundreds and thousands of bad men in history and each and every one of them had a mother. They might have had good mothers, bad mothers, but I know you’ll have a mother who loves every inch of you.”

Keiko lifts Yoh up, smoothing her thumb across the soft curve of his cheek, a smile on her face as he squirms ever so slightly. He’s placed to a side now and she looks to Hao, meeting the dark press of his eyes. He’s awake again, watching her, even though she’s relatively sure his eyes shouldn’t be developed enough to actually see her with the distance between them. She scoops him up anyway, ever so gently encouraging him to fill the spot Yoh has just vacated, taking a gentle hold of his legs and slowly beginning to rotate his hips. Her tiny baby. Gods, she had been a fool to believe even for a moment that she could let someone kill him.

“I’m going to use that money to buy an apartment here. I made sure that Dad, that Mikihisa couldn’t track the account. I made it clear to my accountant and to my lawyer that I’m running, though I wouldn’t say why. I’m a grown woman, I don’t need an excuse to up and leave. The savings’ll be enough for a year or so but, after that…. I’ll have to get a job. And it’s best I start looking now. Never miss an opportunity, huh?” Working her fingers across Hao’s soft tummy, Keiko gently draws them up along the soft outline of his ribcage, down the fragile sides that continue to rise and fall beneath her touch. And Hao is still staring up at her, all big eyes and just as adorable as his brother now that the pruning effect on his skin has diminished.

She has her father’s disappointment now, undoubtedly her mother’s too. Mikihisa is probably going out of his mind with worry but she cannot risk contacting him right now, not when there’s even the slightest chance that such a thing could lead the rest of the Asakura family right to her defenceless babes. The tears touch at the corner of her eyes but Keiko forces them to venture no further, instead working her hands up to Hao’s head, massaging the scalp there, avoiding the pulsating soft spot. She smooths her thumbs over the thin wisps of his eyebrows.

“I have no idea when your memories will come back,” she confesses, leaning forwards until she can press the softest kiss she can manage to his brow. “But I hope you keep these ones. I hope you know you have a mother who adores you and a young brother who will no doubt look up to you. I hope you’ll know you are loved so very much, Asakura Hao.”

“I- is that everything, Ma’am?”

Keiko smiles, nodding her head in agreement as she surveys the apartment before her. It’s a small thing, one bedroom only but she doesn’t need another one, won’t for a few years at least. She’ll be able to fit a toddler bed big enough for both Hao and Yoh to share in a year or so.

It’s not a patch on the Asakura lands, the many houses and homes she knows belongs to her family. That alone makes it perfect.

Drawing back the little roof of her pram, Keiko smiles down at the two infants within, both of whom are awake and alert. Well, they had slept through the journey from the doctor’s to their new apartment. For Yoh, it’d probably been a result of his especially trying round of shots. Hao, once again, had taken the vaccines silently, the frosty contours of his face also absent this time.

“Home sweet home, boys.” Yoh gurgles at her, squirming in place and she’s thankful for the double-seater pram, otherwise she doesn’t doubt one of those reckless limbs would have nudged Hao. Her boys are as different as night and day; Yoh her cheery sunshine and Hao her cool moon. In terms of development, the only thing that Yoh has his elder brother beaten at is the ability to smile. His chubby little lips have curved into that expression of joy a few times, but she’s not seen so much as a hint of one on Hao’s face. Not yet anyway. If she ever needed any more evidence that her eldest is the very thing her father feared, well, that’s probably it.

Scooping up her youngest, Keiko cradles him against her chest, nose to his head to better inhale his ridiculously comforting smell.

“It’s not much but, for now, it’s home.” Keiko sways, slipping Yoh into the baby wrap before she gathers Hao up into her arms next. He squirms ever so slightly, enough to prompt Keiko into hushing him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, laying him against the side of her chest not already occupied by Yoh. He stills once they have maximum skin to skin contact again; little breathes puffing out against her collarbone in tandem with Yoh’s. Gods, how is it possible to love two beings so much? She’d thought she knew love; Keiko loves her parents, loves Mikihisa, had once thought that was the pinnacle. But what she feels for the two children she cradles so close eclipses all of that.

She had never, ever defied her father. Running had been her first time. And it is without doubt the best decision she ever made.

Keiko’s singing voice is nothing to write home about. But it is soft and pleasant and more than capable of carrying both her babies off into the Land of Nod.

By six months, Hao is sitting up unsupported. Both twins had been on their stomachs for that all-important tummy-time as Keiko flicked through the job advertisements in the paper, looking up every thirty or so seconds to make sure her boys are well. Then, between one glance and the next, there he was, sitting up. Keiko sets her paper aside, joining her boys on the rug and running her hand across Yoh’s back. She can feel him begin to rock from side to side; he mastered rolling over two weeks ago and has taken to using it in order to escape tummy time, no matter how often Keiko keeps putting him back.

“You’re a lazy little menace,” she muses, pulling a ridiculously silly face the moment that Yoh is on his back and can see her. He bursts into adorable baby laughter, the little spit bubble he’d had going on popping from the pressure and Keiko could not suppress her own smile even if she wanted to. She turs to Hao instead, drawing the baby into her arms, sitting him on her lap and she’s not at all surprised that he doesn’t lean back against her torso the moment he has a chance. So independent.

“Look at your silly little brother, Hao. Isn’t he silly?” Keiko pulls another face and that just sets Yoh off even more, his high, delighted tones echoing through their small living room, bouncing from wall to wall, ringing through the air. “Silly Yoh and Serious Hao. Smiley Yoh and Scowly Hao. You’re twins but you’re both so different. And I couldn’t love you more if I tried.”

Hao grumbles. Well, it’s some twisted mash-up of a grumble and a growl and then he’s falling to a side. Keiko jolts, reaching forwards in a desperate attempt to catch him but he beats her to it. Both hands planted firmly on the rug and with tiny fingers almost disappearing into the shag, he manages to lower himself down until he’s laid out, his feet to her thigh and his head by her knee. Hao stares up at her, that same stubborn little frown on his lips.

And then, he steals her breath as it transforms into a smile.

He is one hundred and eighty-two days into his third life. One hundred and eighty-two days conscious, aware of the world around him. He still recalls bits and pieces from when he had been unborn, words that had reaches his ears despite the amniotic fluid that had surrounded him.

He knows exactly what had been planned.

Which is why he’d been pleasantly surprised to be born in a room with no other Asakura present than the mother of this body. The Spirit of Fire had pressed up against the edge of his consciousness and it would have been easy, so very easy, to summon the being and retreat.

But she had called for him.

‘My baby’’

It still rings in his head even now, for all the ridiculous nicknames that have come about, each discarded with the same ease as she applies them, swapping them in and out and never once settling on one term of address.

‘My baby.’

He can recall the Furyoku she’d hit the other with, transforming the statement into a demand. And Hao… Hao had held off. He’d waited, the Spirit of Fire present, ready to appear the moment he was needed. But he’d waited and the woman, the mother of this body, had laid him upon her bare chest and held him close. She’d kept him there as she brought his other half into the world, the younger twin. For all that she had strained, the hand upon his back had been so gentle.

Hao had waited. Just to see what would happen, waited with the Spirit of Fire ready and lurking. He had waited for the other Asakuras to come.

But they never had.

His body may sleep, but even then, Hao is aware. He heard the moment she decided upon ‘Yoh’ as the name for his twin. He missed a breath when she declared him Hao. So, it was not that she had doubted her father’s words. She is aware of him, knows exactly who he is, what he will do. What he is here on the earth for. She has known from the start. Her hand, so much larger than his own at present, had stroked at the length of his back before she’d picked him up, placing him back down so he resided upon his back as all infants should when sleeping. He can recall laying there, his tiny infant body breathing and resting as Asakura Keiko had stroked his cheek with a tenderness that should escape her, that his descendants had been taught to never show him.

He recalls how she had concluded he would be the eldest. She had shown an ignorance of the rebirth process by assuming he has yet to gain his memories, his consciousness.

She had declared him her son, that he would always have her love.

‘They will have to kill me before they touch you. Either of you.’

He remembers that one, that promise before the body had even been born. It’s evident in her every thought. For all that she thinks of her parents, thinks of the father of this body, there is not one shred of doubt that she is doing the right thing.

Laying out before her now, his younger twin still foolishly laughing somewhere out of his immediate line of sight, Hao stares up at the woman. Asakura Keiko. The woman who seems to have accepted that, one day, he shall have memories more than what she has created with him already. A woman who knows exactly who he is and yet, impossibly, still calls him son. Her eldest. Her firstborn. Her ‘babe’, to use her own terminology.

He could leave, could go at any moment and she wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him. He had planned on it before he had even heard of the Asakuras were going to deal with him, their plans to kill him at birth. He’d plotted in return, schemed and devised a way to ensure his own survival. But he hadn’t needed it. Had been born to a woman absent from her family, a woman who is hiding from them. Solely so she could bring her children into the world and know they will not be killed instantly.

He could leave, but-

Sometimes, he sees honeyed hair. Sometimes he’s sees golden strands and hears a softer voice.

The eyes are the same warm brown.

He never had Reishi when his mother was alive. But… he rather imagines she felt the same love as Asakura Keiko does.

Hao could leave. He could go at any moment.

He chooses not to.

Chapter Text

The festive season comes and goes, passing quietly outside of their little apartment. As her children sleep, Keiko reviews her finances. With Hanako-chan still passing her hand-me-downs onto her (and yes, Keiko does feel a bit bad about judging the hostel worker the way she had), she can maybe stretch their cash an additional month. That still only brings her up until June. After that, she won’t be able to ignore it any longer. She will have to get a job. The apartment is completely paid for out of her savings; if she’d have been renting, perhaps they’d have been able to go a few more years before she had to get a job. But anything could go wrong with renting. Here, at least, she can rest assured that she owns these walls, the floor and the roof over her head. All she needs to do is ensure she has the money to pay the bills, the groceries, any of the things the boys need.

Finances is not something she has had to worry about in the past. The Asakuras are an old family with old money. But she cannot risk the family right now. She cannot weigh Hao’s and Yoh’s life alongside the need for money. So, a job it is. She’s far from unqualified; she has her high-school diploma, had graduated top of her class. And yet…

There is a temple on the outskirts of the town she has settled in. She is, first and foremost, a miko. She has the skillset; she just needs to see if there is the need for her.

With a sigh, Keiko leaves the little kitchen table her apartment boasts, plucking up the joint baby-carrier that both Hao and Yoh are resting within. She should have moved them to the crib a bit earlier, but the financial situation has been weighing heavy on her mind. She has two children who rely completely upon her. She needs to get secure, needs to ensure that her babies have nothing to worry about.

With Yoh in the cradle, Keiko turns for her eldest and she’s not surprised to see that he is wide awake, staring up at her with the same dark eyes she sees in the mirror. The bedroom is lit only by the street-lights that leak in through the cracks in the curtains, but it’s enough for her to see Hao’s pale face.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry, Hao.” Picking him up is the most natural thing in the world now, half laying him against her chest, even though he’d quite capable of keeping his head up all by himself now. It takes a moment, but the boy decides to rest his chin upon her shoulder, one hand grasping at the collar of her shirt and toes digging into the excess fabric that covers her stomach. Standing before the crib in which Yoh sleeps, his elder in her arms, Keiko slowly moves her weight from foot to foot, not quite bouncing but not quite swaying. Some bastardised symbiont of the two.

“I wonder what the world will look like to you. I wonder what you will think of everything and how it has changed. We have something called human rights now; they were only established after the Second World War. There been social revolutions, countries have disappeared and new ones have formed. A lot can change in five-hundred years.” Hao shuffles against her shoulder, twisting his head around until his nose is pressing against the column of her neck, a cold spot. Keiko reaches into the crib and presses the back of her hand to Yoh’s head, but he feels fine. She has the heating on, given the December chill. Maybe Hao is just one of those people who always has cold hands and feet, someone who has a cold nose. Keiko cuddles him a little bit closer, shuffling him into the warmth of her dressing gown and drawing the fluffy fabric around his body.

It is so strange to think the small human she is cradling will grow up to dominate the Shaman Fight.

“I wish I knew your reasoning.” Wishes she knew why he wants a shaman only world, wishes she knew why he wants to kill all humanity. This baby isn’t going to be the one to give her answers though; it’s a question best left for the future.

Instead, Keiko begin reciting what she knows about Japan’s isolation period, obliviously continuing even as Hao falls asleep on her shoulder.

It is when the boys are nine months old that she acquires a job. It is not at the temple, as she first thought it would be. Instead, the town’s library is looking for an assistant, part-time and paying enough that Keiko would be able to live on the wage with both Yoh and Hao.

Perhaps the best part is that she gets to bring her children to work with her. The elderly man in charge, Okumura-san, had agreed without hesitation to allow the boys to rest behind the counter, had even dug a small play-mat his grandchildren had grown out of from his storage shed. Yoh adores the small plush toys that hang on a bar above him, often sitting up and reaching for it. Then, he’ll get distracted by the different textures on the base of the matter, then the shiny objects on the side, then it’d be back to the hanging objects in one endless circle.

Hao, unsurprisingly, is less than amused. He makes it a point to sit upon the very edge, watching her sit at the counter and attend to the handful of people that pass by. The general public would probably find him very unnerving if it were for the fact he’s just so cute.

It is on her second week that he somehow acquires a picture-book, chubby hands slowly moving the thick card pages, stubby fingers tracing the wordless images that tell a story through colour alone.

From there, Keiko begins taking a few children’s books home, creating a bedtime routine. Bath time follows dinner, leading into a supper consisting of warm milk. Then, with one twin tucked into each side and heads supported the arms she wraps around them, Keiko reads. Aesop’s Fables is the book she starts with, chunky and full of words they can begin adding to their vocabulary. Even if Yoh never manages to stay awake beyond the first five minutes. Hao, however, presses a little bit more into her side and stares at the pages. On the third day of this routine, Keiko realises one of his little hands have reached out and grasped at the material of her night-shirt. Yet, for all that he is more… advanced than his brother, not even Asakura Hao can fight off the claws of sleep. After thirty minutes, he’s out like a light, little face pressing up against her chest and tiny fingers still clinging tight to her shirt.

It always takes some juggling, getting both twins back into the crib without waking them up. But she manages. It seems to be all Keiko can do at the moment, but she manages. And, she has to believe it is enough.

Society is corrupt. He’d decided upon this a lifetime ago, but there are so many things that he sees, that he hears which reinforce his conclusions. Two World Wars. He would like to say it is unbelievable, but his expectations of humanity are already low. So, no, that news wasn’t a particular shock. The invention of the television, of the radio is rather impressive, for all that is always carries dreadful news.

He likes the books though.

Keiko has found a job working in a library; they have moved on from scrolls now to these mass-created books, all bright colours and careful designs. Keiko and the old man, Okumura, press picture books of no real substance into his hands but Hao takes them anyway, sitting and staring at the pictures. All the while, he absorbs the knowledge of those who read around him. There is a student who comes in every Wednesday evening, bemoaning his love-life but he reads about social revolutions of the West so Hao puts up with it. A middle-aged woman comes in on Tuesdays to scour cooking books for new recipes to feed her family. A father and son duo come in on Thursdays to research martial arts. Monday, a historian appears to research for the paper he will submit to university at the end of the schooling year. And these are just the regulars.

Keiko has had this job for over a month now; Yoh seems happy enough to play with the old man who runs this play whenever he bores of the toys he has been given and Hao… Hao has mastered walking in this body. He refused to display the talent until he was absolutely sure he could manage to get to and remain on his two feet unaided. It was a struggle. It’d been a struggle in the second life. The Patch woman who had bore him hadn’t a clue how to raise a child, hadn’t done her research. During that time, he’d seethed as he worked his own muscles.

This lifetime, his new mother is a competent woman who can admit her own ignorance and find a way to rectify it.

No longer interested in the book that resides within his lap, Hao pushes it from his legs, rising to his feet in order to make for Keiko. The distance he has to cover is nothing, he knows he is capable of it, even in a body as weak as this. He takes it slow, each step sure and steady until, soon enough, he is by Keiko’s side. She looks down from her chair, smile blooming across her face and he feels the (lovewarmthpleasurehappiness) emotions that flow from her and lap against the edges of his own consciousness. Then, she’s scooping him up to sit on her lap, giving him an excellent view across the counter. It’s nice, to see things from this height. Not that he wouldn’t be able to if he wished it. He’d only need to summon the Spirit of Fire and then gravity would mean nothing. No, not even that. With his powers, gravity has no hold on him unless he wishes it so.

“Can you see the cherry blossoms trees, Hao?” Keiko asks, smoothing down the wild strands of hair atop his head. It’s far softer than what it should be, a product of his infancy. It won’t be long until it gains some true substance and begins to fall down his back. He’s not sure what the father of this body looks like, and he rather thinks he doesn’t care. Keiko’s hair is exactly as he wants his own to be; long, straight and brown. “They’ll be blooming soon. We’ll go out for a picnic. We’ll pick a sunny day and I’ll pack our lunches. Just immerse ourselves in nature.” Yes, that sounds quite pleasant. Though he’s not sure if something such as ‘nature’ exists within this city. The buildings, all wood and stone and gleaming metal are horrific, human influence stretching further and further and snuffing out the world’s natural beauty.

A whimper from behind them has Keiko turning for Yoh and Hao does not suppress the frown that crawls atop his lips. It has been a long while since he was exposed to any young child outside of his physical self. Even when he fathered his own children, it had been the woman’s job to look after them. He had not had children out of any innate desire for them; he’d needed the bloodline to continue, that was all.

Consequently, he’s little patience for Yoh at the present. He’s, well, rather useless. All he does is cry, crawl around aimlessly after Hao, or ram whatever object he can get his hands on into his mouth. Speaking of mouths, he’s very much aware the teething period is looming. While the Patch mother had been inattentive enough he’d been able to summon up ice to suck on, he’s probably right in assuming Keiko will notice if ice mysteriously appears in his grasp. She’s still under the impression that ‘Hao the ancestor’ is still not conscious within his body, but elemental manipulation would be one of the biggest red flags he could raise.

He begrudgingly resigns himself to suffering the pain in silence.

The sun is setting as they walk back to the little apartment that their family of three calls home. Had this been what has become of his line, the Hao would have been sickened to see the state of is descendants. But Keiko lives in this small apartment because she is protecting them. She has fled the Asakura home, fled the safety of family. All for them.

His younger brother does not comprehend how very lucky he is. His survival can be attributed this woman. Hao… Hao would have survived no matter what. If Keiko hadn’t changed her mind, hadn’t ran, then he still would have found a way. He still would have lived.

He hadn’t needed to.

“The sun’s setting, Yoh.” Their mother wiggles her fingers in front of the youngest of them and Yoh blinks, the soft plush he’d been gumming on popping free of his lips as he turns his attentions to Keio. “Well, we say it’s setting. But really, the earth is spinning away from the sun. At night, we’re actually in the shadow of the rest of earth, so none of the sun’s light reaches us. Not unless the moon is out. The sunlight hits the moon and bounces back off. That’s why the moon can go dark, because the earth also blocks the sunlight that wants to reach it.”

She talks a lot, this mother. It’s like she’s narrating their life; what the weather is like, what they are going to wear today, where they are going, who they are going to meet. It does open him up quite nicely to the modern twist on Japanese, replacing all the outdated phrases he knows. Perhaps that’s the intention, not to update his Japanese, but to expose both himself and Yoh to the language. The words they use to interact, to convey meaning.

Hao allows his eyes to flutter closed, not into true sleep, but a light rest. Dozing. Dozing and listening to the calm words of his mother as she explains the current understanding of the world.

One of his least favourite times is when he is placed with the ‘playpen’ alongside Yoh. The boy is a menace. While he had mastered the art of rolling at a respectable age, he seems to have progressed no further than crawling in the same time it has taken Hao to do both that, stand up, and walk without falling. Worse, the boy seems to have no drive to continue improving. He takes a perverse pleasure in rolling along the playpen until he crashes into Hao’s side, giggling in that high-pitched, utterly delighted tone. No matter how many times he shoves his hand into the other’s face and forces him back and away, he comes back for more.

He doesn’t have the control to punch him. Not as he’d like. And the boy isn’t old enough to instantly associate roll-crash equals punch right off the bat. Hao would have to drive the lesson home numerous times and he’s probably right in concluding that Keiko would not appreciate him repeatedly punching her youngest son. For a moment, he toys with the idea of telling the other to stop. A one-word command that even Yoh understands, despite being all of ten months old. But no. He will not speak aloud until he has mastered the different phonemes with this useless tongue.

Telepathy isn’t off the cards though.

Staring at the boy that lays an arm’s length or two away, Hao narrows his eyes.

‘Stop.’

Yoh immediately bursts into tears.

Great.

On their first birthday, Keiko presents them with a cake. There is a candle planted in the middle, shaped like the number one, dyed blue with a little flame burning cheerfully at the wick. Yoh goes absoutley wild for it, making grabby hands from the highchair he’s been placed in, one meaty fist slamming on the plastic ‘table’ attached to the seat. Hao, occupying his own chair and determinedly ignoring how demeaning his current seating arrangement is, just watches the flame flicker back and forth. He could reach out for it, could take control of that tiny spark of energy.

But, for all that she has very determinedly not used any Furyoku since their birth, he doesn’t doubt that Keiko wouldn’t notice.

He’s not ready to expose himself yet.

Hao very determinedly does not look at why that is.

Instead, he forces himself to focus on the cake, head tilting ever so slightly as he takes it in.

“When you’re older, you’ll blow the candle out and make a wish,” Keiko explains, setting the cake on the table (the real table, not the mockery of one attached to each of their chairs) as she takes both of Yoh’s tiny hands in her own, swinging them back and forth. It takes a moment, but he begins giggling, eyes still on the cake and flame but unable to ignore the soft way their mother is working her fingers up and down his arms in the same little massaging technique she’s been using since they were newborns.

A quick breath and their candle flame is extinguished. Keiko cuts a small slice of cake for herself, then one for each of them. Hao’s aware their little tables have been cleaned, had watched Keiko do it before she placed them in the confines of the chair. It’s the only reason he doesn’t grimace over the fact his portion is placed upon the ‘table’.

In the other chair, Yoh goes to town with a childish whoop of glee, chunky fist slamming down onto the cake and sending icing and jam exploding across the white plastic. It draws a laugh from their mother though as she scrambles for a camera to capture the memory. The click of the disposable device goes off, focused on Yoh and Hao turns his attentions back to the cake, grabbing a handful with less finesse than he’d have liked. Still, he gets the handful into his mouth without any issues; he’s co-ordinated enough for that.

It’s tasty. Smiling, Hao works the sweet desert around his mouth, savouring the zing of the jam as it spread across his tongue. He doesn’t miss Keiko snapping a photo of him, but he does make a show of blinking a moment after, as if he’s startled.

“You have such a pretty smile, Hao. Smiley Hao and Giggly Yoh. Gods, aren’t I lucky to have such cheery boys?” He’d hardly call himself cheery but if that’s what she wishes to believe, so be it.

Whatever peace that they have been graced with is shattered a moment later.

It takes Hao a second, but when it registers in his mind, he feels his body go stiff. There’s thoughts spinning in a head outside, thoughts centred around Keiko and how she could be being influenced by him, twisted against the family and she’s ran and it’s taken him a whole year to track her down and is she doing okay and why would she leave without him and-

Hao tears himself out of the head, his small hands clenched tight, one of them still holding the squashed remains of his second bit of cake, the birthday treat leaking through his fingers, strawberry jam dripping like blood.

He’d been foolish to assume everything would work out, that he would manage his vulnerable childhood years here, hidden away by a mother who’d cared more than her family had expected. When has the corruption of humanity ever left him to his peace, when has he ever managed to exist unbothered?

There’s a knock at the door, not the usual three-point rap of Keiko’s almost friend from the hostel, nor the two-point hammer of the next-door neighbour. As Keiko rises, Hao infuses the oxygen in the air with his Furyoku, feeling the Spirit of Fire heed his call. It’s invisible for the moment, but Hao is certain his attack will be quicker. The Spirit is large enough now that it will be able to grab Keiko, grab Hao and Yoh and flee through the flames. Where, he doesn’t know. He’ll figure that out as he goes.

It’s Mickey on the other side of the door.

Keiko’s breath leaves her in one hash, fell swoop and all that love she has for him rushes in to fill up the space in her chest. Yet, for all the air she has exhaled, her love for the boys makes up her very being now, resides as the core of what she is. She is Asakura Keiko, mother to Hao and Yoh. She hopes dearly that her husband is not here on behalf of the Asakura Family. But, if he is, she will do what she must to defend her babes. Even if it breaks her heart in the process.

“Keiko.” And oh, how he breathes out her name. Like it’s a pray, like it’s a whisper, like it’s the only name he’ll ever care to know. Her heart aches, clenching something difficult in her chest but she only needs to think about the little ones hidden behind her body, in the apartment she owns and bought to hide from her family and her resolve is fortified.

“Mickey. Why are you here?” For what else can she say? Politely ask him to leave? No, if he’s tracked her down like this, then it’s obvious he won’t be leaving.

The love in his eyes is like a suckerpunch to the stomach, makes it difficult to swallow, makes it hard to breathe.

“My pregnant wife ran, leaving only a note that she cannot condemn her children to death. Your father thinks Hao’s influenced you somehow, but all I can think about it why you didn’t trust me to run with you.” It goes unsaid how much family matters to him, how devastated he was to find out his firstborn son, then to find out they were twins and they had to die.

The air feels hot, kissing at the back of her neck, prompting sweat to drip down from her hairline. It’s a warm day, but she hadn’t thought it warm enough to necessitate the air conditioning. Clearly, she’d been wrong.

“Do you think I’m being influenced?” Keiko asks, quiet and soft. It’s almost the very same tone she’d used when they first met. Back when she had been in pieces over a useless human being who she’d thought herself in love with. No, now that she has had Mikihisa, now that she knows the pure love a mother can feel for her children, what she’d had for that man and all the ones before him and been a candle to a bonfire.

“Only in the way all mothers are with newborns… I just want my family, Kei.”

Chapter Text

Hao detests Mikihisa.

Keiko is surprised by the sheer ferocity with which the boy regards his father. Yoh, despite being cautious for the first few days, had adapted quick enough, welcoming him with open arms and a gummy grin. Hao could not be any more different.

He clings persistently whenever she picks him up and seems to have decided her bed is now his too. She’d almost have believed him capable of setting Mikihisa on fire with the weight of his glare alone. One day, he’ll actually be capable of that and it’s a… discomforting thought.

“Mum.”

Keiko startles slightly, peering down at the boy in question as he stares back up at her, one of his small hands clenched into the fabric of her trousers, the other scrubbing at one eye to dislodge the sleep there. She’s not even been out of bed for ten minutes and he’s already trailing after her like a little duckling, dogging her footsteps and firing one quick, scorching glare at Mikihisa’s sleeping form. Her poor husband is slumbering on the couch, one arm over his face to block out the sun.

In a perfect world, he’d be sharing her bed. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have had to flee her home and go into hiding.

But this is the world; what comes next is what she makes of it.

“Yes, Little Leaf?” Keiko squats down to Hao’a level, opening her arms and waiting. There’s a single moment of hesitation as he weighs up voluntarily walking into physical contact, but walk in he does. One of his hands grasps are her shirt, the other thrown over a shoulder and his head is just beneath the tip of her chin. He’s still light enough that she has no trouble standing with his additional weight, though she does rest him against her hip once she’s straightened out in order to avoid tiring her arms out.

Hao leans back in her arms, slow enough that he doesn’t topple them, his fine dark hair still carrying that distinctly bed-rumpled look. Gods, he’s adorable. Whatever he’s looking for in his face, he seems to find it because he settles back in. Not before he sends Mikihisa’s sleeping form another sharp look. It’s not exactly a surprise. For a year now, it has just been the three of them. She’s the only adult Hao and Yoh have ever known and, while her youngest is free with his smiles and laughs, that’s not Hao. Oh, Hao smiles. He smiles nearly as much as his twin does. But only ever in her direction. Any other time, he’s observing the world around him with a straight face and serious eyes.

“Mum,” he repeats instead, resting his head on her shoulder, body going limp against her chest. Keiko exhales, stroking at Hao’s back as she makes for the bedroom because she’s clearly not going to be making breakfast any time soon.

Yoh is still asleep in the crib when she arrived, drool dripping down from the corner of his mouth, snuggled up around Ted the bear. He’s adorable but she’s known that since the day she birthed him.

Lying down on her bed, Keiko keeps Hao to her side, so he’s lying half on her torso, half on her arm instead of the mattress. She strokes her thumb along his ribs, losing herself in the fluttering of his breath.

She thinks about what will happen when Hao ‘wakes up’. It will change everything and nothing. He will be something more than her baby but that’s okay because that’s always been his destiny. He will never stop being her baby though. Keiko presses a kiss to Hao’s temples, watching him fight in vain against the sleep that wants to drag him under. Until he’s asleep, she’ll lay with him. Then, she’ll start breakfast. Something cold that can be stored easily given her boys are going to be sleeping. She hadn’t even been awake for a particularly long time herself before Hao had trotted out after her.

To think, she’d almost allowed her little leaf, this tiny duckling to be killed. All because of what he’ll grow to be. They are shamans, the barrier between life and death is different to them when compared to other humans. Yet, Keiko cannot help but wonder if this has screwed with their perspective.

Do they not value human life as highly? Do they disregard the finality of death because a sacred few can revive them?

“Dream sweet dreams, Hao. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He can’t hear her, he’s already asleep. But she hopes he follows her request nonetheless.

“He’s a clingy one, isn’t he?” Mikihisa is at the door now, one hand rubbing at his hair, his eyes soft as he takes the two of them in. She wonders what they look like; mother and son, heiress and her prophesied-to-destroy-the-world heir.

Whatever Keiko would say to that is lost beneath the fog-horn of Yoh’s morning cry. It’s like clockwork; he interrupts their first morning greeting every day. If it weren’t Yoh doing the disturbing, she have started wondering if it’s all planned out.

Hao seethes.

It’s a silent seething, something that doesn’t show on his face (he is far too controlled to allow for that), but it is there. It is present. His body ‘sleeps’ but Hao seethes regardless.

He cannot keep using telepathy to prompt his brother into shrieking. It’ll get too repetitive soon, too obvious. But it’s his best card to play at the moment.

It had been fine with just the three of them.

He doesn’t care that Mikihisa is devoted to family, that the man has already decided he too will die for his twins, would die for Keiko. He doesn’t care that the other is already rifling through job advertisements to help support them.

He doesn’t care.

He should be gone.

Hao hadn’t decided he was going to remain until suddenly, this interloper had appeared. He’d been ready to deal with him, to spirit himself away. And… he’d bee ready to take Keiko with him. To take Yoh with him. Logically, he knows he doesn’t need them. He is Asakura Hao, the greatest shaman to ever live and he can get by just fine on his own. Yet, in some ridiculous twist of fate… he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to get by on his own, doesn’t want it to be just himself and the Spirit of Fire until he’d old enough to go and start collecting followers again. Looking inside himself had been the last thing he was planning to do; reflecting on his own thoughts and decisions isn’t exactly someone he has spent the past year doing. If he had, perhaps he’d have caught these emotions sooner.

She reminds him of his mother.

The temperaments are different but there is something. He’s just not sure what it is. That means he cannot ignore and, in truth, Hao isn’t too sure he even wants to. A thought which, in and of itself, is absurd.

Regardless, Keiko is too busy humming to Yoh and rocking him back and forth, leaving Mikihisa to flounder by the door. He needs to decide what to do with that. The man isn’t going to present them to the rest of the Asakuras, he plans on defending them which is… helpful. And while it’s blatantly obvious that he’s only in love with the idea of twins (because he sure as hell does not know them well enough to actually love them yet), even Hao cannot deny the man loves Keiko. And that’s exactly the problem. Hao has zero intentions of sacrificing any of the time he gets with the woman who is raising him.

No more lying. He’s attached. And he’s never been particularly good at giving up what he considers his.

With a smile, Hao lets himself linger in a state of half-sleep for a little bit longer. Mikihisa can stay for now, if only to relieve some of the burden of their upkeep from Keiko.

They eat lunch around the low table in the living room and Hao shamelessly climbs into Keiko’s lap for the duration of it. When she turns her questioning gaze upon him (which is fair enough, given that he has only recently began to seek physical contact with her of his own initiative), he tilts his head back and smiles. He ignores the lingering thoughts of Ohachiyo and the way of life the rabbit demon had shared with him.

Instead, he allows himself to get wrapped up in the warm, bubbling feelings that are nestled behind Keiko’s breastbone, slouching into her warmth as he stuffs a pittance of bread and meat into his mouth. The sandwiches have been cut into tiny pieces, more for Yoh’s convince than Hao’s. He doesn’t doubt the other boy would choke to death trying to shove the whole thing into his mouth. Before, he had shown his smiles for any and all. But, Hao recognises that a baby’s smile is considered precious in the present, so he only allows it to grace his face whenever he looks to Keiko. After all, she has elevated both himself and Yoh to the position of ‘most treasured thing within her life’. She considers him precious, something to sacrifice the other things she has in her life.

“What is the plan, Kei?” Mikihisa asks, tidying the mess of crumbs Yoh has already managed to surround his plate with. And, regardless of the fact he doesn’t like this man, Hao has to concede to his point. If he has managed to track them down, it shan’t next long until there are others. It is only Mikihisa’s pure love for this woman that prevented him from attacking right away. That and the fact he is not a born Asakura. He was brought into the fold, not raised on the beliefs. It’s a miracle Keiko ran given the conditioning.

“Survive?” Keiko breathes above him, one of her hands resting at Hao’s side, palm a solid press against his ribs. “I didn’t have a plan other than to make sure my boys life. If- when Hao wakes up, maybe I’ll know. I- I don’t think I could go back.”

“Your parents love you, Kei. They’re heartbroken.”

“But they will still kill him, won’t they?” It goes in unsaid, the confirmation to Keiko’s question and Hao leans a little more into his mother’s comforting hold. Flat out denial, placing his life above her relationship with her parents. The corruption of humanity hasn’t taken everyone, even now, a thousand years in from when he’d noticed it.

Mickey finds work as a shop assistant, working in a record’s shop. It’s so incredibly apt for him that it brings a smile to Keiko’s face; he loved sharing the music of Soul Bob with Yoh and her baby is always delighted to hear it, pudgy little hands clapping along and that warm, dazzling smile on his face.

He’s working now, her husband, and Keiko has both of her sons in the twin pram while they visit the market. She plans on cooking something particularly tasty tonight, for no other reason than the fact it is the height of summer. She already has a watermelon balanced on the little compartment at the base of the pram, their sweet treat for tomorrow, when the weather is supposed to peak at its warmest temperature. Despite the fact she could have given her children it before, she’d consciously held off until they’ve hit summer, simply because she wants to associate the fruit with the season, a delicious, refreshing treat.

Walking by the various market stalls, Keiko watches her twins watch the world. Hao’s disgruntled expression, Yoh’s obsession with each bright, shiny thing to pass before him.

“Mine!” He suddenly calls, reaches desperately for a plush koi fish, fingers clenching and unclenching, as if he can summon the toy closer through willpower alone. And... well, with Mikihisa here and earning, she has the money to indulge a little.

“A present for your cute little son, Ma’am?”

“Yes please. The koi and...” she pauses, turning her eyes upon Hao and he quickly twists his face away, bottom lip sticking out stubbornly. Her gaze trails back over to the stall, flickering through all that’s on offer and she recites the animals aloud. “A monkey? No, too silly. A crane? No, not enough to hold on to. Maybe a rabbit?” The way Hao tenses ever so slightly gives him away and Keiko nods to the stall-owner, handing over the notes for the two toys in question.

Yoh squeals as he’s given the koi, chunky arms wrapping tight around the bright orange body, while Hao takes the bundle of fluff passing off as a white rabbit quietly. He strokes one of its long, floppy ears for a moment before he snuggles a little more into his seat, eyes half-lidded.

“Ohachiyo,” he mutters and, for all that it’s got a childish slur to his words, it’s a particularly clear name given without a second of hesitation.

Keiko blinks, pushing forwards and searching for a stall selling fish. All the while, her mind whirls. Had their been an ‘Ohachiyo’ in her ancestor’s life at some point? She can’t quite recall all the stories she’d been raised on and, after learning her Father had predicted one of her twins was to be Hao and they would both have to die, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to research the reincarnation she would give birth to. Is this a sign Hao is beginning to wake?

It’s something she will deal with at a later date. With a deep inhale, Keiko approaches the fishmonger and smiles. One day at a time. That’s how she’ll take it.

Watermelon slices quickly become the boys’ favourite treats; she packs them in all their outdoor lunchboxes now.

It’s August and it’s still sweltering. Hot enough that she and Mikihisa have organised a shared day off and they’re taking a train to the beach. The metal shell rattles down the tracks but the noise isn’t particularly loud. Hao sits beside her on one of the train seats, absorbed in his own little head while one of his hands continues to stroke Ohachiyo; sometimes, she thinks he’s more attached to that plush than he is to his own twin. Said twin is currently balanced on his legs, face and hands pressed up to the glass of the window (she’ll have to remember to give him a clean over once they arrive). He’s absolutely fascinated by the flashes of countryside they pass by, babbling away in that incomprehensible baby language. Still, Keiko makes noises in all the right places, asks Yoh what he sees and where he thinks they’re going, listening intently. Because she is starting how she means to go on and that means listening to her boys. Both of them.

Mikihisa is watching her, sitting across the aisle with the travel bag planted on the seat next to him; luckily, it seems the festival in the bigger cities has drawn a larger crowd than the beach on a warm summer’s day. Keiko will be the first to state she understands, how can she not, given her precious training as a miko? But... she has no idea if the Asakuras have branched out. No idea if they’ve alerted others. Attending festivals where there could be other shaman, those sensitive to spirits? It’s too much of a risk. So, the beach it is.

Yoh outright squeals when he sees the ocean. Face forwards in the pram, he lunged against the straps keeping him contained, babbling away and squirming in discomfort when he realises he’s trapped. It has Mickey laughing and Keiko takes a moment to appreciate a sound that she’d not consciously thought she’d head again, right up until he turned up on her doorstep, that is. She’d forgotten just how easy it is to love him. She barely needs to try.

Loving her boys though, that is unquestionable, a fact of nature as sure as the sun rising in the east, as sure as the tides rise and fall. Asakura Keiko is made of love for her twins; that is fact.

The wide wheels of the pram make an otherwise impossible journey across sand into a difficult one instead. The granules beneath her feet are hard-packed, enough that she is not bodily shoving the boys closer towards the ocean, it only feels like it. There are a few families mingling about on the beach, some with their own blankets, others with wind-breakers set up, one particularly prepared unit sporting a giant sun umbrella.

Astonishingly, they manage to find a relatively secluded spot, half hidden away before a gathering of trees that has yet to be occupied. Mikihisa drops the cooler with a resounding thump, planting it in the sand like a flag to stake their claim. The second that Yoh is released from his wheeled prison, he’s digging both hands into the golden sands, laughing uproariously as it trickles out between his fingers. He’s adorable and utterly enamoured with this new environment, chunky legs flopping back and forth as he tries his hand at a bit of landscaping. Mikihisa coos, already loading up the castle-making bucket to now doubt mystify his youngest son with his instant-architect abilities.

“Right, Mister,” Keiko says, plucking Hao from his little nest and settling him upon her hip. “Shall we venture out into the waves and let the salt water soften our feet?” She smiles, melting internally when the same expression is directed right back at her. Gods, he’s too cute. With a shall wave to Mikihisa, Keiko makes for the ocean, placing Hao down on his feet once they’re relatively close. His tiny toes flex in the sand, though he’s nowhere near as fascinated as Yoh. Instead, he takes one sure step forwards, heading to the waves without a trace of fear in his gaze. Nonetheless, one of his pudgy hands remains encased in hers; Keiko wouldn’t let it go for the world.

The water is quick to rush over their feet, lapping at her ankles as the wet sand crumbles and shifts beneath her. Hao is quick to crouch down, forcing Keiko to join him or release his hand. The ocean soaks into thin fabric of her shorts, greedy limbs climbing as high into the fabric as they can. It’s an uncomfortable feeling.

Hao’s utterly unbothered by the way the sea drenches his clothes, too busy plucking up a piece of seaweed to inspect with his dark eyes. He’s got her hair, the same chestnut brown strands that top her own head and it appears it’s going to fall as equally straight as her own. Running her fingers through the short little tresses, Keiko gives up the ghost regarding her clothes and seat herself fully in the water, watching Hao explore and uncover what exists beneath the ocean’s grasp. He doesn’t spend much time on each little discovery; a spiralling shell with patterns bleeding pale oranges and yellows, a stone smoothed from hundreds of years in the water, the leathery length of seaweed extracted from its brethren.

It’s everything she’d ever dream of, exactly what she’d wanted from her life. Before marrying Mikihisa, before she’d even met him, she’d always dreamed of children. Of hiking through thick forests and wandering through big cities, of lazy summers spent lounging on the beach, of cosy winter nights spent before a fire with hot chocolate nursed between her palms. And in every one, she’d had a child tucked under her arm and she’d known, even all those years ago, how much she would adore him. That she’d had twins; well, it’s the greatest blessing she’s ever received in her life. That she has Yoh and Hao, Hao and Yoh, her babes and her boys; nothing could have been more perfect. How she arrived here is completely different to the path she’d thought to take, but Keiko wouldn’t change a thing.

Then, something drags Hao under.

Keiko manages to wrap her arms around him the moment his head disappears beneath the waters, drawing him close to her body in a way that should have forced anything pulling him to release its hold. But it’s no physical thing, she realises a moment later. It’s spiritual energy. And, in that moment of panic, she freely reaches for her Furyoku for the first time in over a year, scrambling as she searches for a spirit (any spirit, any at all) to aid her. Because she doesn’t have anything to fight with on her person, hadn’t even considered it and, in hindsight, that was such a stupid thing for her to do.

They’re spat out on a boat. Keiko remains curled around Hao, her arms caging in his tiny form, sucking in oxygen as quick and efficiently as she can. She can feel his tiny ribcage doing the same thing, can feel the pounding of his heart and his panicked gasp. She’s never heard him make such a sound before.

Her head snaps up, eyeing the duo of shamans that have reeled them out into the ocean, that have dragged them away from her husband and youngest son to this boat- no. They hadn’t dragged her; Keiko has forced them to bring her along too.

They’re after Hao.

Shoving her precious baby behind her, Keiko rises to one foot, knee down on the other leg and one hand still supporting her because the panic is not gone. They’d been forced underwater without warning and her baby had been threatened. His life is still being threatened. One of them sneers, his eyes burning into her, right through her, aimed at the child who is no more than a year old, no matter who the fuck they think he is, who they all know he will become.

That's when the fire starts.

Chapter Text

Hao burns them both. There’s no hesitation in his movements, not a drop of Furyoku is wasted as he manifests the Spirit of Fire and cremates them. It hadn’t taken long to make that decision; he’d known the moment the spirit had latched onto his ankle.

He hadn’t expected Keiko to come along as well, hasn’t expected her to cup the back of his head and wrap her body around him in some bastardised form of protection. He hadn’t been surprised when the first thing she did on the boat, before she’d even managed to recover herself, was to shove him behind her.

Now, with one hand wrapped into the wet cotton of her shirt, Hao watches them burn and doesn’t feel an ounce of regret for that choice. They’d planned on killing him; allies of the Asakura family who’d been told by one of the various branches that he’d gotten away.

They’d planned on getting rid of Keiko too.

And now, they burn.

Their minds fade as their ashes do, swallowed by the rolling sea while Hao remains standing upon the slap-job raft they’d ventured out to sea on. For all that one of them had worked with the ghost of a fishermen, sea-goers those men were clearly not. In his small form, the waves feel ferocious, too big, too large. All of that is dwarfed by the Spirit of Fire hovering above the waves, it’s body a haze of different reds, shades that blend and glimmer.

“Hao.” The voice is cracked, exhaled with every last puff of air in the lungs and his teeth grind as he waits for the invertible. Even as her arms come around him, Hao knows he is safe. His guardian ghost resides in the air before him, it’s power thrumming through the very oxygen they inhale. He can save himself at any time, can do it in a split second.

And... a part of him knows that, deep in his bones, he’s waiting to see what she will do. The freshly woven panic of the mind, the adrenaline that courses through the blood makes the mind difficult (though not impossible) to read. He just, doesn’t wish to look.

Keiko presses him into her chest with more force than she curled around him in the water. One of her hands is in his hair, fingers spread wide as if to hold as much of him as physically possible, arm wrapped around his back to cradle him close and Hao just breathes. It’s all he can do.

She breathes his name again, over and over, the sound whispering through hair drenched by sea mist. Her arms are trembling and she’s still kneeling; but Keiko doesn’t loosen her hold for a second.

“Are you okay?” Desperate hands run over his body, searching and scanning but she must be pleased with what she sees, for the woman relaxes her tense shoulders with a half-muffled sob. The arms return to clinging.

“I’m okay,” Hao says, even though it’s a blatant lie. He’s waiting, anticipating the reaction. He’d just burned two men alive, the Spirit of Fire still hasn’t disappeared and it’s only a matter of time before Keiko realises, before it hits her. Yet, he’s stupidly not forcing his way out of her hands, not retreating into the safety of his guardian ghost.

“Thank the Gods.” His face is pressed (smushed, really, if he were to be technical about it) back into the curve of her shoulder, eliminating the very little space he’d managed to put between them. She doesn’t say anything else and Hao is in no rush to break the tentative peace between them.

He still keeps the Spirit of Fire present, if in an admittedly smaller form. Just in case.

Some time passes.

Hao’s not really counting. Instead, he’s slowly coming apart at the seams. He’s waiting for the disgust, for the fear and the anger. But all Keiko is giving him is that same sweeping relief... the same soft fuzz that fills his innards in a way he doesn’t want to put a name to (cannot put a name to, not when it won’t remain). The salt of the ocean has seeped fully into his hair now, clinging hard to the strands, water kissing up against his skin. The gentle stroking of his back, of Keiko’s hand working the damp cloth over his skin is all he can focus on.

“How long have you remembered?” It’s the first thing she says.

“Since the beginning.” His tone is cool, factual. Devoid of emotion.

The woman hums, legs folded beneath her and Hao still resting in her lap, still cradled in her arms and she doesn’t appear to want to let go. They’re surrounded on all sides by the ocean, adrift at sea and it is without a doubt a prime opportunity to drown a family enemy. Still, Keiko holds him close.

“And you stayed.” A breath, a moment in which nothing is said and Hao does not voice an agreement, for it isn’t needed. “What do you want to do now?”

What... what does he want to do now? He’s far too young to begin feasibly gathering followers, too young to really strike out on his own. Oh, he could manage, but his presence would be loud and, as recent events have made clear, the Asakuras have already shared the news of his return.

It’s not the only thing that makes his reluctant to leave.

Keiko must sense his hesitation, a medium hearing a ghost, for she is quick to continue speaking.

“So, you’re reincarnated. But I birthed you. That makes you my baby, my child. You’re my firstborn son and, as long as you want to stay, you’re always welcome here. But, if you want to go, I won’t stop you.” The jumble of words, everything she wants to say but is locked inside her head bombard him. She doesn’t care that he’s always remembered, she doesn’t understand his desire to eradicate that scum from the earth, she wants to spend every day together as mother and son... she doesn’t want him to leave. Is desperate for him to remain.

It’s utterly illogical. She knows he’s Asakura Hao. She knows he’s reborn with his memories and his guardian ghost and his Furyoku all ready to be used to further his ambitions. She knows she knows she knows- but she still wants him to stay. Wants it so fiercely it illuminates her spirit, has it burning his senses.

And he can’t get the declaration to go beyond his throat.

Because stupidly, foolishly, he wants to stay. The body is still too young; there’s safety here with Keiko attached to him. It’s the body; the hormones that race through his veins and argue aggressively against the thought of leaving. It’d been the same in the Patch body last time, an instinctive urge to reach out to the mother and develop a bond. Only, Keiko has actually put forth effort on that front. That’s what is making it difficult.

He can spend some time here growing, gathering himself.

Still, the words won’t work their way past the traitorous lump in his throat so, instead, Hao grasps tight to the wet cotton of Keiko’s shirt.

Her son who is not a baby but is her baby gets them to shore. Keiko’s not sure how he does it; her understanding of his powers doesn’t go any further than having once acknowledged her ancestor had mastered the natural elements and so much more. She’d never expected to be in a position to be exposed to those powers.

Her head is spinning, thoughts crashing into one another over and over and the only thing that is concrete is the warm body in her grasp that is now shivering, for all that the air around them is suspiciously warm. Her clothes are dry and she’s wearing a swimming costume beneath the cotton, so Keiko doesn’t hesitate to pull the fabric off of her body and wrap Hao up in it, cradling the precious bundle close to her chest.

He’s had his memories from the start. Has remembered since the beginning. Every time she has interacted with her baby boy, it has been her ancestor looking out of those dark eyes, Asakura Hao listening to her.

It’d been Hao to give her the gummy, pre-teeth smiles. Asakura Hao who’d reacted to the idea of a rabbit plush and given it a name. It’s been her feared across the world ancestor who slips Yoh’s carrots onto his own plate when he thinks she isn’t looking so Yoh doesn’t end up throwing his most hated food across the kitchen.

Asakura Hao the ancestor had always been a vague concept, the ghost that haunts their family line and has dictated their way of life for a thousand years, simply because he continually persists with threatening world peace.

Asakura Hao the baby is her little boy who offers her all the smiles, a handful of hugs and falls asleep best when his chubby cheek is resting against her shoulder. Perhaps she’s being unreasonable, perhaps she’s ignoring the reality of the situation. But… Hao’s still here. The oppressive fire spirit has disappeared, though it is clearly more than capable of extracting its master and securing his safety.

Maybe she’s not the only one that’s choosing to ignore the current situation, if only for a little bit.

The raft arrives at their little secluded section of the beach and Keiko steps off, laying Hao against her chest, his face nestled into the comforts of her neck. Even her hair is dry now, falling down her back in a low ponytail as she steps onto the golden sand, making her way back towards their blanket. Mikihisa is on her in an instant, looking exceptionally panicked but all Keiko can focus on is Yoh. Her youngest boy is blissfully unaware that she’d been out to sea for an… undetermined amount of time, instead giggling and reaching for her with hands coated in sand.

“Keiko! What happened?” And here it is. She can admit it and hope Mikihisa has spent enough time with Hao to grow attached, that he hasn’t taken on her parents’ ideals as thoroughly as the others in the family. He wasn’t raised on it like she was, hasn’t heard the stories of what Hao will do to the world since he was old enough to toddle. It’s why her parents had never dared have another child, just in case Hao was reborn as her younger brother. Mikihisa may very well agree with her, that just because he is the reincarnation of her crazed ancestor doesn’t mean he should be put to death as an infant while being incapable of defending himself (or so her parents had thought). Her dear husband may agree with her.

But she cannot risk it.

“We got dragged out by a rip current. I had to summon a low-level kami spirit to help us back to shore. Luckily, there was an abandoned raft nearby.” The lie tastes like salt on her tongue, drying up all the saliva on the muscle, weighing it down and making it drag against her teeth. Mikihisa stares for a single moment before he exhales, shuffling Yoh to one arm to draw her (and consequently, Hao) into a hug.

“No more time in the waves.”

“No more time in the waves,” Keiko agrees, feeling herself melt into his embrace, even as she continues to cuddle the bundle of fabric and baby to her chest. Ah, he won’t be a baby for much longer, will he? Soon, she’ll have two toddlers on her hands, stumbling about and learning all they can of the world around them. Two toddlers, who those associated with her parents won’t be able to tell the difference between.

It’s about time she reached out to the gods.

When they return home, Mikihisa heads out for his night-shift only after she has reassured him multiple times that she is indeed okay and in no way needs him to call in sick. Keiko leans against the doorframe in her pyjamas, trying to wave him off. He’s making it difficult though, pressing quick kisses to her forehead and repeatedly asking if she’s sure she doesn’t want him to remain. And, it is difficult, telling him that she will be fine and he should go.

Because there is a big discussion waiting for her when Yoh is sleeping. Hell, it could happen when Yoh is awake; for all that her youngest is bright, bubbly and alert, he is still only a year old. But she won’t allow her time with Yoh to become tainted with whatever stress Hao’s situation will create in her. Not that she would ever take any of that stress out upon her babe; but the fact is she’d be stressed within his presence, something she can avoid by having this talk when he is sleep.

“I will be fine,” Keiko repeats, lacing the final word with extra emphasis, staring into Mikihisa’s eyes until he concedes to her words.

“I just worry.”

“I know. And I love you for it. But I promise, we are all okay.” Hao is alive, though not from any actions she had undertaken today. If anything, this only stresses the importance that she gets back into her role as a miko, even if she would not be performing within a specific shrine. That’s fine, she can deal with that if it means an added layer of protection.

Taking Mikihisa’s face between her palms, Keiko rises to her tiptoes and presses her lips to his in a chaste kiss, just enough to back up her point before she steps back into the comforts of the apartment.

Once her husband has disappeared, Keiko returns to the living room, sitting herself down on the floor besides her two children. Yoh, of course, is delighted by her sudden, near-magical appearance, babbling half a mile a minute as he crawls over, the koi plush still clutched tight in one hand. She’s relatively certain Mickey has called it Kin but, as Yoh has yet to address it by name (or show any signs of accepting said name), she refrains from calling it such.

“And how is my youngest little drop of sunshine?”

Yoh babbles, rolling onto his back, his legs thrown over one of her thighs and his head resting on the other. Keiko has her fingers dance across the soft orange of his pyjama top, tickling at his belly until a laugh bursts free of his lips. He’s so warm and soft, just like the spring sunshine revisiting an island frozen over from winter.

“Hao! Hao!” Yoh twists in her lap, rolling over until he can see his older brother, reaching out with both hands while simultaneously flinging the koi plush at his target. Hao catches it. It’s not a smooth movement and he has to use two hands, but it’s remarkably far beyond any hand-eye co-ordination a toddler should have. He really has been hiding himself all this time and part of Keiko’s heart breaks for him. Because you shouldn’t have to hid, not from family. The repercussions having to constantly mask yourself could have-

“It was necessary.”

Keiko startles, watching her eldest lean back against the low table leg, his tiny arms folded across his chest. The serious set of his face is at odds with the baby body, the bright red shirt and matching pyjama bottoms. Hao is very adamantly not looking in her direction, instead staring at the koi fish as if he could set it alight with his gaze alone. Maybe he can, Keiko doesn’t know. What she does know for certain is that Hao must have Reishi to have answered her just like that. The power to read hearts and the only way to come about it-

“How long have you had Reishi?” Keiko asks, keeping her voice soft as she adjusts Yoh’s slumped form, just until he’s laying across her lap in a way that means he won’t get cramp in his neck when he falls asleep. Already his thin eyelids are fluttering, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks before he forcibly blinks, snaps his eyes open as if he doesn’t want to sleep. But he needs it; it’s been a long day, for all that he’d napped on the train back.

“Long enough.” Hao slouched back ever so slightly; chin ducking somewhat closer to his chest as he looks at her. “You don’t want me to go.”

“Of course, I don’t!” For all that she wants to shout it, Keiko keeps the retort to a low hiss instead, trying to comprehend why on earth Hao would believe she wants him to go. Gods, what does it matter if he’s a reborn spirit? He’s still her baby. She had still held him close to her chest, pressing his tiny body to her skin after fleeing from her parents. She’s literally on the run now because she’d chosen to keep him alive, chosen to put the lives of her twins above that of her family’s Hao-stopping legacy.

“You’re my son,” Keiko admits softly, running her hand through Yoh’s hair and watching his tiny lips part, droll gathering at one corner as he drifts off. “I’m aware it doesn’t make any rational sense, to want you to stay. But I’m starting to believe there’s nothing rational about the bond a mother has with her children. I would do anything for you and Yoh.” Because, for all that Mikihisa has been the light of her life, for all that he is the thing she needs to see the world… Yoh and Hao are her water. She could live in total darkness; it would be difficult, but she could live. Without her boys? She’d be a dried-up husk of a human; she wouldn’t survive without them.

Hao is the first to look away, glancing off to a side and part of Keiko wishes she knew just what was going on in his head. Another, large part of her, balks at the idea of having Reishi herself. She’s well aware of what requirements are necessary to develop it and her heart aches just a little.

“I don’t need your pity,” Hao snaps, turning back to her with a scowl, the anger in his voice at war with the childish lisp to his words.

“I know you don’t. You’re Asakura Hao and you don’t need anything.” Keiko carefully settles Yoh upon one of the large, plush cushions that surrounds the low table, leaving him to drool upon that fabric instead of her leg. Now free to move, she shuffles close to Hao, giving him a moment to move away if he wishes to. When he doesn’t, when he stays as still as the temple statues she has worshipped, Keiko gathers him up into her arms instead, tucking his head beneath her own, chin to the crown of his skull. “Just because you don’t need anything, doesn’t mean you cannot want things. If you want to stay, you’re welcome. If you only want to pop back every now and then, that’s fine as well. And if you want to leave, there’s nothing I can do to stop you. But I’ll always look for you, because like it or not, you’re my son in this life. And there’s nothing I want more than to ensure that both of you grow up healthy and happy.”

Hao doesn’t say anything, just breathes, one heavy exhale against her collarbone that is followed by a steady rhythm. But, after a moment, he clutches at her shirt with one hand tight in the fabric, his nose pressing just a little harder into the tender junction where her neck meets her torso. Perhaps it’s the body making him stay, some cocktail of emotions that push a child to look for support and security; she cannot recall too much of what she’d read about babies and their hormones and inbuilt instincts.

But, when she wakes up the next morning, a crick in her own neck from falling asleep against the wooden table, Hao is still there.

Three months later, Keiko works her way off of the bus and fires a smile to the bus-driver who has helped her lower the pram down the steps. They’re at the closest Buddhist temple, Keiko wrapped in a second-hand coat she had found in the local charity shop, Hao and Yoh both sporting knitted hats and scarves that the neighbour three doors down had made specifically for them. Yoh, with his increasing vocabulary and mental awareness, is valiantly trying to hold a conversation with Hao, though it pretty much amounts to the command of ‘Hao, look’, one her eldest aggressively ignores.

It has been three months since the two shamans found her and there have been no others. Yet. It’s a state of being she cannot afford to remain in, for all that Hao is capable of defending himself. What if they mistakenly go after Yoh instead? No, Keiko needs some form of reassurance. Some kind of protection. As always, when she has been in doubt throughout her life, she is turning to the Gods for answers.

The temple they have arrived at is well-kept; a fresh lick of red paint has been applied to the entrance and a monk greets her with a bow that Keiko is quick to return. She cleanses her hands with water from the purification fountain, repeating the process when Hao holds out his hands without a word. Always eager to copy his brother, Yoh is quick to offer his own stubby little fingers and Keiko ensures they are washed too, taking extra care to remove the smear of jam that has worked its way between the knuckles of his fingers.

As they enter, Yoh ceases his attempts at enticing his twin into conversation, instead taking in his surroundings with big brown eyes. Keiko makes her way to the haiden, halting the pram and stepping alongside her sons to look upon the building. It seems like far too long since she was here, offering her respects to the Gods, listening to their words as the swept through her body. She bows her head, digging into her pocket for the offering.

It had been lucky that a shrine to Kannon had been so close by. Now, gently dropping the lucky five yen into the saisen-bako, Keiko rings the bell and closes her eyes. Two deep bows first, to greet the Kami-sama. Two claps for her appreciation. And there is a great deal of appreciation in her for this Kami; the Goddess of Mercy, the Goddess of Motherhood. Then, her pray. Her pray for forgiveness first, for neglecting her duties. A second pray, for mercy, not for her, but for her children. Security that they will be able to grow, that they will survive all the threats that are visited upon them, that they will become strong as the years go by. Her third and final pray, to ask for guidance in her journey as a mother, to aid her in doing what is right by her children.

Keiko excuses herself with a final bow, feeling the energy of the Kami roar through her. It’s more potent than she remembers, the communication without any clear words but the feeling of something positive nestles deep into her bones regardless. Something reassuring, something that looks to both Hao and Yoh with a tenderness that leaves Keiko breathless and brings tears to the corner of her eyes. She allows them to fall, for to not give life to the Kami blessed emotions would be sacrilege.

When her eyes open, it’s to find Hao standing before her, having clambered out of the pram to look upon the shrine with his lips pursed.

“Why five yen?” he asks, still inspecting the haiden.

“It’s considered good luck… Would you like some?” She has the coins in her pocket, enough for both Hao and Yoh, though the chance of the latter wishing to pray is minuscule. He’s a toddler, he won’t understand the significance of what he is doing. Not like Hao. Keiko doesn’t give him a chance to really think about it, instead holding out the coins until he lifts his hand and accepts them. He’s tall enough that, standing on his tiptoes, he can reach up and drop the coins in, so Keiko turns away for the illusion of privacy and instead scooping Yoh up. Because, for all that he won’t understand the significance of what they’re doing, it’s not too early for him to take part, for her to teach him the beginnings of shrine etiquette. She’ll let him put an offering in, will get him to do it gently and slowly.

Maybe she should have prayed for guidance with her marriage. She is lying to Mikihisa and, though she does it only to ensure the safety of her children, it is still a lie. Her husband is a good man, a man who took the time to brighten up the day of a crying young woman when he hadn’t a clue what was wrong with her. A man who has heard all the horrible stories of what her eldest son is determined to do and yet, still stays with them. Still works to keep them safe. And yet, she does not feel like she should go crawling to the Gods for this one. It is her mess, her problem to resolve. To ask for the Gods’ favour would be the declare she is unable to handle the situation herself.

No. Mikihisa deserves to know the truth and Keiko will tell him.

Just… not yet.

Chapter Text

This body is now three years old and it is one of the rare days Keiko goes to work without them. Consequently, he has been left in the care of Mikihisa, the father of this body, who has decided a park would be the perfect place to spend a few hours of their lives.

Seated within the sandbox, Hao lets the granules drip through his fingers, watching Yoh copy the action as if it will grant him the same advanced reflexes that Hao has spent this lifetime honing since the moment he was born. He could spend this time work on his endurance, jogging around the playground but it would undoubtedly look far too much like training to the watchful eyes of their current caregiver. And, while the ideas of playing tag is there… Hao can admit it falls a little too close to his memories of Ohachiyo for comfort.

It has been a strange year, though a part of him is admittedly relieved to not be pretending constantly anymore. Keiko is aware of what he is, who he is, and he needs no masks when Mikihisa is absent. It’s… nice. Certainly not the life he had been expecting to be born into. He’d planned to exercise his powers as the Asakura heir, gathering followers to ‘defeat Hao’ when he appeared. That had all gone out the window when the Asakura Head had seen him being reborn to the family line in a vision. He’d spent his remaining time while conscious in the womb readying to defend himself.

But it hadn’t been necessary. Keiko had fled. Even now, knowing who he is, knowing he remembers, she still hasn’t’ handed him over. Has no intention of doing so. It’s almost enough for him to relax. Almost.

“Hao!” Lifting his gaze to Yoh, Hao watches as his twin smashes a palm into a mountain of sand, looking back to him with a smile, as if for reassurance that his improving reflexes are appreciated by his elder sibling. It’s ridiculous. Yoh follows him around all the time, plodding after him on his stubby legs and he’s always reaching out for him, wanting to hold his hand and walk beside him. Sometimes, Hao lets him. Only sometimes though.

Having a twin is strange; a part of himself split, shared with another, though Yoh is certainly his own person. Hao cannot recall being that trusting at any point in his life.

“Girl’s shouldn’t be in boy clothes!” The high, nasal declaration has Hao slowly turning away from his twin to look at the source, eyes filtering over the young boy that’s standing before them. He’s probably a year or two older, his mind having latched onto the fact Hao’s long hair must mean he is a girl. Why on earth he had felt the need to come over here and announce such a thing is beyond Hao but, for all of the years he has had Reishi, not once has he come to understand exactly how the minds of young children work. Read them? Easy. But understand the thought process? No, that’s- well, it’s not beyond him. But he just hasn’t cared enough to try. Yoh’s mind is the closest he’s come, simply through the amount of time he’s been exposed to it and watched it develop. Yoh does not like carrots – Yoh will throw the carrots on the floor. Oh, this upsets Mum. Yoh will let Hao take the carrots off his plate – Mum is not upset and Yoh does not have to eat carrots.

Then again, Yoh has never felt the need to go up to a stranger and engage them in discussion (he’s too focused on doing the same thing with Hao, though he’s had limited success with it).

“Hao’s not a girl!” Yoh pipes up with a lung capacity far exceeding what such a tiny child should have, his voice high and shrill as he stumbles to his feet to glare up at the boy. The boy who frowns hard, looking Hao over as he tries to apply the terminology ‘boy’ to him. Admittedly, the present day seems to be slaving away under the concept that males should have short hair and female wear their hair long. Not that Hao is about to allow the gender stereotypes of the time to influence his fashion choices. He has every intention of wearing his hair exactly as he wore it in his previous lives; long and free.

“Boys don’t have long hair!”

“Hao does and Hao’s a boy!” Yoh, with his tiny hands curled into fists, scowls up at the boy who then makes the stupidest mistake of his life so far. He pushes Yoh.

Yoh tumbles back into the sand, lower lip wobbling as he pushes himself to his feet, forcibly pushing away the tears that gather in the corner of his eyes and Hao has seen quite enough. He’s young but not defenceless, as the only two shamans to find him discovered. It had been the last discovery of their lives. Still, crisping the boy in front of him is a sure-fire way for Mikihisa to realise he’s fully conscious and there is no Keiko to soothe the man; chances are, he might just go straight on the attack, especially if Hao slaughters the boy before him.

But he doesn’t need to kill to make this boy regret ever opening his mouth. After all, sand is simply tiny particles of earth and earth is an element he has long since mastered. It shifts, unbalancing the boy and Hao only needs to exert just the slightly bit of force as he pushes the boy’s shoulder, forcing him to the ground. The second he’s laid flat on his back, mind spinning as it tries to comprehend what just happened, Hao punches him in the nose.

Yoh’s holding his hand. Normally, Hao would be above such displays in public such as this. Given how there had been plenty of parents watching their offspring (with varying degrees of attentivity), more than a few would have seen the older boy push Yoh. While Hao’s reaction had unquestionably exceeded the levels of violence the other boy had set, it is justified. That’s what a few of the parents are thinking anyway, the ones that care enough to watch the little drama of Mikihisa verses the boy’s mother.

Hao couldn’t care less. It’s just more proof that humans are vile with an inclination for violence that cannot be ignored. Their greed, the joy they take in watching a verbal disagreement between two adults, is sickening. There is no common decency shared between these people, all consumed by their own thoughts. Some think on money, how they are short of it, how they should be getting raise for their work. Some lament over their misfortunes, while at least two parents have snootily turned their faces away from sandbox when Hao had punched the other boy, too absorbed in mentally lauding the fact that their child would never start a fight like that. Nevermind that their delightful offspring would not be able to complete a manoeuvre as efficiently as what Hao had just done. Just more proof that these insects deserve extermination.

“Why did you hit Kintaro!” Hao snorts. It’d be impossible not to. ‘Golden boy’; someone certainly had high aspirations for their offspring.

“He pushed my brother,” Hao drawls, staring up at the woman who believes taking a child to task like this is appropriate. More than a few people are staring now, minds spinning over the drama unfolding before them but deriving a sick entertainment from it all. No one comes to get involved. “He is supposed to be our elder, but decided to pick a fight with children years younger than him.”

The fearful thoughts, the shock over his advanced vocabulary and well-formed sentences, the fury over the judgement of her ‘precious’ child all smash together, anger and fury and humiliation surging in her bones.

Then, Hao is plucked into the air by hands now more familiar than his own.

“I’m afraid Hao is both very clever and protective of his brother. Perhaps you could try discussing with your child that he should be helping his kohais instead of picking fights with them.” Keiko smiles, the skin by her eyes lifting, hair half falling out of the bun she’d walked out of the door with this morning. She’d seen the woman getting too close to him, getting up in his personal space and now there’s a deep roar of protectiveness storming through her. It’s why she’s lifted him up; now, the woman cannot talk down to him. “Though I am sorry Hao felt the need to educate your child by physical violence. I will have a discussion with him about that.”

They return to the apartment after that. Mikihisa agrees to cook dinner and Keiko volunteers to bath both of them following their ‘exploration’ of the sandbox. As such, he’s now seated in water that reaches half way up his ribs, the surface littered with bubbles and Yoh is cheerfully splashing away with his golden fish toy.

“What happened today then?” Keiko asks, her voice low as she scoops up a jug-full of water to set on the side of the bath. The ‘no-tears’ shampoo is picked up a moment later and she begins lathering Yoh’s hair, who squeezes his eyes closed and blocks his ears. As if Keiko would be foolish enough to work the substance into his ears but it is not Hao’s job to inform Yoh of the world.

“Humans are disgusting blights on the world. That’s only made more evident every time we go outside. Money has furthered the corruption of society; half the populous is obsessed over it, though they’ll never be able to attain the level of wealth that really matters. It’s just another component of control so that the survival of the strongest remains; only those that possess wealth are strong.”

“Do you not think they have the capacity to change though?” Keiko asks, the shampoo bottle now on the side as she pours water over Yoh’s hair, he bears the sudden onslaught well, head ducked down to avoid the streams weaving their way across his eyes. Their mother repeats the motion three more times, just until all the soap suds are removed from his hair. Once Yoh is done, Hao turns in the bath so he is facing away from Keiko, giving her access to the entirety of his own hair. She lathered it up carefully, fingers gentle as they work their way across his scalp in a massage. Hao doesn’t quite sink into the gesture, but his shoulders certainly lose some of the tension they have been carrying throughout the day.

“People don’t change.”

“I did.” At that, Hao does poke an eye open, staring blankly at the tiles before him as he acknowledges the point. Keiko had changed, had doubted the tales her parents told her and decided that her own morals had outweighed the family beliefs. For a woman who had been known to always do her duty, that is a rather dramatic change.

“Very few people are capable of significant change,” Hao decides, closing his eyes again as Keiko dips the jug beneath the bath’s surface.

“What’s siggy mean?” Yoh asks, shuffling about in the bath water until his leg knocks against Hao’s. He’s abandoned the toy fish now, instead absolutely fascinated with the mountains of bubbles that surround them. When Hao flicks one eye open between the downpour from the jug, he’s not surprised in the least to find his younger half wearing a bubble-beard.

“It means something is important, Baby,” answers Keiko, upending the jug on Hao’s head again and the water streams through his hair, flattening it against his skull but rinsing off all the bubbles. “And I’m not sure I believe that, Hao. I think, given the right tools and guidance, everyone can change for the better. Now, let’s get you two dried off.”

All four of them are crammed into Keiko’s bed. Hao is on her left, his head propped up on her arm, Yoh in the exact same position on her right. Mikihisa lays on the other side of Yoh, turned on his side so he can watch her read with soft eyes. They’re reading the ‘Philosophical lion: The collection of children’s poems’ tonight. She keeps her voice gentle, her pitch varying as required but never so suddenly that it will snap Yoh from his lazy doze as he slowly but surely drops off to sleep. In sharp contrast, Hao is wide awake beside her, his eyes flashing over the page as he reads the words himself. His hair is collected into a high ponytail, still only half dry. It’ll need brushing through in the morning.

As a yawn breaks through Keiko’s lips, she finishes off the final sentence of their current page before closing the book.

“Bedtime, sweetheart.” She hefts Hao up, resting the majority of his weight against her hip. He’s three now and it’s evident in his size, in how he’s heavier to pick up than he was a year ago. Not significantly so, but heavy enough.

She can hear Mikihisa plucking Yoh up, the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor as he follows her. He’ll tuck Yoh into bed just like she does Hao; smooth the quilt cover down, fluff up the pillow, press a kiss to the temples. Hao allows the gesture, watching her with half-lidded eyes as he nestles down into his blankets. He doesn’t let Mikihisa kiss him and she wonders if it’s because she was the one to run. Hao never gives any indication as to why.

She wants to tell Mikihisa, is going to inform him of the truth she’s been keeping for over a year now. That Hao perhaps hears that thought and doesn’t try to dissuade her means he’s not worried. Keiko still smooths down the flyaway hairs that bracket his hairline before she turns to plant a kiss on the sleeping Yoh.

“Good night. Have sweet dreams.”

Hao’s returning “good night,” is soft, spoken in a voice both childish and gentle. It has been a long day and, for all that he is Asakura Hao, his body is only three. He’s halfway to sleep before she even turns off the light.

She and Mikihisa lay next to one another, her head resting on his arm and her hand joined with his, their arms having to cross their torsos to allow the gesture. He presses a kiss to her knuckles, as sweet and as soft as the day they met and a part of her breaks again.

For her boys though, she’ll break a thousand times over.

“Hao remembers.” It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off; quick, painful, but it’s all over. But Mikihisa is silent and outright staring at her and the words continue to bubble up and out of her throat regardless of any intent she has for the conversation. Because this is the man she unloaded all of her worries to when they were strangers; once she starts, she can’t stop it all from rushing out, flooding the space between them and Keiko’s sure she’ll drown before she can reach him again but it just doesn’t stop. “He’s always remembered and he told me a year ago but I haven’t been able to build up the courage to tell you because I’m scared you’ll leave and I love you so much it feels like I’m going to burst, but then they’re my whole world and I have to protect them. Even with Hao being Hao.”

Pulling her hand free of Mikihisa’s, Keiko presses the meat of her palms to her eyes, inhaling in one, shuddery breath before she forces herself to continue, to finish what she wants to say. “And Hao has Reishi. I don’t know if Dad ever told you about it, but it’s a power that lets you read the minds and hearts of the people around you. One you can only develop through extensive feelings of loneliness and the only way to get rid of it is to trust someone and- Gods, he’s a child. He’s reborn but he’s a child, my child and-” Keiko cuts off with a choked sob, clinging to Mikihisa the second he takes her into his arms as if just the physical contact will be enough to get him to stay.

Mickey puts one hand to her head, gently stroking her hair while the other runs down her back, keeping her close as he gently shushes her. She sinks into his embrace, getting herself lost in his familiar scent, in the warmth of his arms. For as long as they have known one another, Mikihisa has been her porous rock, the very thing she can pour her heart and soul into, knowing they will be kept safe and secure. There is no one in the world she would trust more with her truths, and the guilt she feels swirling in her stomach is making her nauseous.

“I should be pretending to look for you.”

Keiko’s tears have all dried up now, leaving sore marks upon her cheeks but she couldn’t care less right now. She peels herself from Mikihisa’s embrace, her lips parted, fingertips still buried into his shirt.

“What?”

“Your family is not going to stop looking, but if I go back now, say I have searched this area…”

“Then they’ll assume we aren’t here,” Keiko concludes, even as her heart aches at the thought. The year without him has been hard, softened only by the twins and the endless joy they bring her.

“We could meet up three or four times a year… it is not much, but if we are to protect Yoh…Yoh and Hao, then it’s probably for the best that I pretend I haven’t found you. I could take up a hobby that means I travel while searching… Maybe I’ll climb mountains.”

Keiko laughs. It’s a watery sound, sad in a way she’s never had to vocalise when she’s with Mickey. But, it would put her mind at ease to know what is happening in her family right now, to know what they think of this situation.

Keiko is sure she is doing the right thing. She does not doubt her path. Hao and Yoh, they are her children. She will always, always put them first no matter what. Even if it means spending time apart from the love of her life. Her children’s needs come before her wants.

“Keiko… do you agree with Hao?” It goes unsaid what exactly it is of Hao’s opinions that she is agreeing with; there’s only one thing worth mentioning in conjunction with Hao’s name when it comes to personal ideals.

“No. I don’t think I could ever agree with him. But, you don’t need to agree with someone to love them. He has a point in regards to humans; society is corrupt. And yet, people can grow. They change. Some do it all on their own, some need help. I refuse to believe that no one is incapable of change.” Not even Hao himself. The only question is, to what extent?

Mikihisa leaves the next morning. He packs only half of his belongings, stating he will need some creature comforts during his return visits and, with pieces of him left behind, it will be like he never left. It’s true that he could probably stay and they would be fine. Hao has already proven he can defend himself just fine. Yoh is a different matter entirely. Any information about who is coming after them, who they need to watch out for, would be incredibly useful.

Mikihisa peppers kisses to Yoh’s face, who doesn’t understand much of anything other than the fact his dad is leaving for something more than work. The waterworks that pour down his face is far from attractive and his tantrum has already had one of the neighbours poking their head out the door, asking if everything is okay.

“Yoh’s just upset that Daddy has to leave for a few weeks.” As if to emphasis her point, Yoh releases another wail, shrill enough that even Keiko cringes from the volume. Mikihisa passes him back to her, prising himself free of the boy’s grip before he turns to Hao. Hao, who is standing by her side with his head only just reaching the height of her hip.

Mikihisa kneels down, offering the boy a smile he most certainly does not return.

“Look after them, please.”

“Mickey-”

“I will,” Hao cuts her off, folding his arms across his chest and, for the first time she can recall, smiling at Mikihisa. It’s not his usual, cheerful smile. More of a dare than anything else. “But not for you.”

Hao corners her after Mikihisa’s left and Yoh has cried himself to sleep.

The living room is slowly becoming more and more cluttered as Yoh’s toy collection grows, as more and more pictures begin to appear of her two boys. Some are taped to the wall, the handful of ‘good’ ones are housed in frames on the cabinets. There’re two piles of books borrowed from the library, one hers, the other Hao’s. He has some kind of system going on where he flips the book upside down when he’s finished with it; there’s only two or so left on his pile before he’ll want to return them all for new ones.

He’s sitting by that pile now, fingers running across the spines of his two remaining reads before he selects the slimmer one.

“I won’t change my mind.” he says, tone firm. It takes Keiko a moment to realise exactly what he is talking about, her mind processing the words as she takes a seat beside him, reaching for her own book. Her cooking book is a far cry from the heavyweight philosophical, historical mixes that Hao seems to inhale. Sitting together and reading is a pleasant activity. Even Yoh joins in, flipping through picture books, sounding out the handful of words he knows, making up the rest of the story for those he cannot recognise.

“Maybe not. But I’ll never know if I don’t try, will I? Maybe I’ll do my best to promote growth and you don’t change, maybe I’ll be the one to change my mind. But I think people are products of the environment they grow in. You only need to look at Yoh for that. If he’d been raised by my grandparents, he’d view you as an enemy. Here, you’re his much beloved elder brother and he wants to be just like you.” Watching Yoh follow after Hao, listening to him using the words Hao throws out (admittedly, it’s a one in five change he gets the context of the word right), well, it’s adorable.

Hao doesn’t frown, just nods his head slowly, a hand brushing his hair back on one side.

They sit in comfortable silence from then on, each of them reading their books as Yoh continues to slumber on the sofa.

Chapter Text

“School.” The disgust in Hao’s tone is potent, thick enough that it drops on their conversation like a lead weight. She hadn’t even finished putting the suggestion forwards yet. As unenthused as his twin, though it’s not possibly for the same reasons, Yoh rubs at the back of his skull with a look of disgruntlement on his face.

“But you teach us,” he reasons, lips pressed together and he rolls an orange back and forth on the tabletop, weighing up if it’s worth the effort of stripping its outer flesh for the sweet reward inside.

“I can’t teach you everything. And besides, there’s a chance it could be good for you. The both of you. School doesn’t’ just teach you subject knowledge, but offers you the chance to exercise your social skills and improve your study habits. It teaches you the values that our society holds dear.” This last part she aims for Hao with, watching him tilt his head to a side, a smile widening his mouth.

“More information that can be drawn from a book.”

“But you won’t be able to see in in action, nor understand the weight a person puts on it, be they believers of what they’re teaching or not.” Keiko turns to Yoh next, smiling slowly as she kneels down to his level, knowing an easy win when she can see one. “You could make friends there.”

“People aren’t trustworthy,” Hao states with a smile, slipping his hand into Yoh’s and tugging the boy a little closer to his side. He doesn’t even look surprised when his younger sibling latches onto him, just sighs and meets her eyes with the same chocolate brown irises he inherited from her. “Yoh doesn’t need anyone else.”

“He might like other people. Besides, education will be compulsory once you both turn six and the last thing we need is the government focusing in on us.” It goes unsaid that there’s a slim chance they’ll make contact with the rest of the family which they most certainly do not want. Even with Hao more than capable of defending them all, it’d upset their current way of life. Keiko certainly doesn’t want that and, from the way Hao dips his head in agreement, amiable smile still in place, it’s clear he recognises the issue there too.

“School then.”

Yoh isn’t quite sure how he feels about the concept of school, even if it’s only kindergarten (which, according to Hao, isn’t worth worrying about). It’s a new place where Mum won’t be, for all that she wants them both to attend. He’s never not been without Mum, other than whenever Dad finds time away from his super top-secret mission to come and visit. Yoh loves it when Dad visits; he makes Mum smile differently, makes her happy in a different way. Not that Yoh can’t make her happy, or Hao for that matter. But, there’s something about Dad that makes her happy in another way. With both Yoh and Hao not going to the library with Mum, she’ll be all on her own without any one to make her happy.

On the other hand, he’s here with Hao. He knows that, no matter what happens, Hao will be able to handle anything. His brother pauses, turning to look at him before a small smile works its way across his face. Hao does that a lot, smile, that is. It’s kinda easy to smile when you’ve got a life where you can take it easy. Yoh’s dream is to be able to live a life where he can do what he wants; rest a lot, spend time with Mum and Dad and Hao, listen to music… there’s a lot that makes him happy really.

Standing in front of his new school isn’t one of those things.

“You’ll be fine,” Mum promises, kneeling down and sweeping the both of them into a hug. Yoh eagerly throws his arms around her, planting his chin on one shoulder as Hao takes the others one. He tries to make it look like he’s not desperately clinging to her because that’s not what Hao’s doing and Hao’s his twin, so Yoh should be like him, shouldn’t he? Not that it matters, because Mum clings extra hard to both of them anyway. “You both look so handsome in your uniforms and I’m sure everyone will be very impressed with you. Make sure you look after each other.” And she’s saying that to both of them. Usually, when Mum sends them out on errands, just little ones like going to the shop down the street, she always tells Hao to look after him. It’s his duty as the big brother to do that, right? But… she’s asking him to look after Hao now.

When Mum pulls away, Yoh turns assessing eyes on his twin, searching for any signs of illness or injury. Sure, Hao’s had the flu before, and chicken pox, just like him. But Yoh can’t remember a time that the other boy has been injured or hurt. That just doesn’t happen to Hao, so why would he need looking after? Unless it’s like his tiger book. The one where the tiger had a hurt but it’d been a hurt on his heart, so he’d needed kind words and lots of hugs from his tiger family.

With this new wisdom, Yoh reaches out and grasps Hao’s hand a little tighter, stands a little taller. Maybe Hao can protect them both from everything, but if he’s got a hurt heart, then Yoh can do his best to help out.

“We’ll be fine,” Hao states, rolling his eyes as he flexes the fingers Yoh is holding. “I hardly need Yoh to look after me.” Well, that’s exactly what the hurt tiger had said. Well, maybe not exactly because the hurt tiger’s brother hadn’t been called Yoh, but it’s close enough. So, Hao must really have a hurt heart. And, as his twin, it’s Yoh’s duty to help him heal it.

The look Hao sends him is hard like a hammer. Sometimes, Yoh wonders if the other can actually read his mind before he decides it doesn’t really matter. Hao’s either really clever, a mind-reader, or both. Whichever of those it is, he’s still his brother. That’s the important bit.

They’re taken into a class by Makoko-sensei, a woman almost as pretty as Mum and with a smile as warm as the summer sun. She gathered the attention of the other kids with some kind of chant that’s just a little too fast for Yoh to memorise, but he’s sure he’ll pick it up. He’s not as quick as Hao, but he’s sure he’s not stupid either. Hao would have said something by now if he was.

His twin laughs a little beside him, smiling like he’s not even bothered that they’re standing before new people without Mum to help them introduce themselves. It is for that reason that Yoh musters his courage, stepping forwards to face all the other boys and girls his age. “Hi! My name is Asakura Yoh and I’m five years old! I like listening to Soul Bob!” It’s his favourite thing to do with Dad, to sit and listen to old records with him.

All the other children greet him without a pause, all bright and bubbly but their voices are higher than Mum’s is during her morning greeting.

Then, Hao steps up beside him, still smiling like there’s nothing wrong and he’s perfectly fine without Mum here.

“My name is Asakura Hao and I can see spirits.”

The other children avoid Hao. They send him worried looks, nervous after his introduction and the second that Yoh had announced he could see spirits too, the other kids begin avoiding him too. It’s… it’s not nice. Yoh doesn’t like it. He doesn’t understand what’s wrong with seeing spirits. He can do it; Hao can do it. Mum and Dad can both do it. He hadn’t even been aware other people couldn’t see them until Mum had told him just a few days ago. How can they not see the ancient samurais that remain? The nature spirits that filter in and out of existence? The many, many people of different professions that have remained for a variety of reasons?

Unlike him, Hao isn’t bothered by the other children ignoring them. He puts up a good show of pretending to listen to Makoko-sensei, but he’s brought one of his library books and is reading it under the table.

But, it’s at lunchtime when a girl comes over and introduces herself as Emica. She asks what it’s like to see spirits and takes great delight in telling her. The black-haired little girl is quick to become his first friend from then on.

Hao is six years old now, confined within the compulsory education of Japan and consumed with thoughts of the Shaman Tournament. The more he reads, the more he recognises what is wrong with the world. The animals that are now extinct, the destruction of civilisations in the name of progress, the rampant disrespect of nature. In contrast, there are only a handful of things that give him any semblance of hope. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, slavery abolished in every country, and homicide rates across the globe have taken a sharp nosedive. Yet, wherever he looks, he cannot help but find more and more things that need improving.

He doesn’t need to hold Keiko’s hand now, though he allows her to anyway. Tokyo is nothing like he recalls, so modern and advanced and devoid of nature it steals his breath. It is also stupendously busy. Holding Keiko’s hand is as much of a reassurance for her need to keep her children close as it is to not lose them in the masses of people.

“Tokyo is big!” Yoh, from the other side of Keiko, proceeded to boggle at their surroundings following his yell, Keiko is leading them towards a cemetery, just for a break from the crowds. A great deal of spirits linger there and they all brighten up the second Yoh greets them, rushing forwards to welcome them into the land they haunt. Hao remains besides Keiko as his twin steps forwards, inspecting each of the spirits that crowd around them, all eager to talk to a new, living face.

“How are you doing?” Keiko asks, releasing his hand now that they are away from the rabble to smooth the flat of her palm down his hair instead. It’s long, only ever having been trimmed to ensure the ends remain healthy.

“It’s loud,” he freely admits, smiling but not looking up at the woman that addresses him. Now that she knows of Reishi, he makes no real effort to hide it, not from her. Oh, it is endlessly funny to toy with Yoh, to make him question if he’s just that smart or if he actually can read minds; the trick, Hao has found, is to let a few things slip. To act like he didn’t know about Yoh’s plans all along. It’s the perfect way to make him doubt his assumptions.

Keiko though, Keiko knows. Sometimes, she even worries about what he sees inside her head, tries to make a conscious effort to only think of the things that could trouble her at work. But, even thinking that is enough to get him focused on the issue. How tight money is, even with Mikihisa sending them as much as he can get away with. How she worries about their social circle (as if Hao even needs one of those when he’s in a school with no other shamans barring Yoh) and the upcoming future. How she wonders if he’ll change his opinions, or if she’ll change hers.

The iron-clad certainty she has that he can look after himself is pleasant, not that there are many people who doubt his abilities. Still, it is nice to know that he’s trusted to look after both himself and Yoh.

“And the city?”

“It’s polluted.” The vast majority are so busy they can barely keep their heads on straight, too worried about jobs and money and appearances that they take no time to appreciate the good that they have. It wasn’t everyone, but the sheer amount is enough to make his head spin.

“Right, and how would you solve it?” How would he solve it? Hao deliberates over that question for a moment because, for all that he could say he’d kill the humans, that doesn’t instantly undo all the damage. So, instead, Hao thinks. He does a lot of that now, not to say he had been lacking in that department before. But now, he ponders over the problems plaguing the world and how he could fix them once he becomes Shaman King.

That is how all their visits go. During the holidays, Keiko scrapes together just enough money to take them to different places in Japan, even going so far as to stay at little hotels when they travel far enough.

They visit big cities, museums, landmarks that hadn’t been there five hundred years ago. Hao tastes the salt of his tears when they reach the outskirts of Hiroshima, as close to the calamity as they can safely get anyway. He feels the zing of respect, standing before the Great Buddha of Kamakura. In spring, they visit Hitsujiyama Park and relax by the cherry blossoms; in winter, the attend the Sapporo Snow Festival and Yoh is captivated by the gigantic sculptures.

And, at every location, Keiko will pose a question that Hao will spend several days dwelling on, ideas spinning in his head before they find time to sit down and discuss his answers. By the time they turn seven, Yoh has enough knowledge and world experience to start joining in. He’s… dismayed to learn of Hao’s goals, his dream once he becomes Shaman King. By some sick twist of fate, his own twin does not agree with him, states he will do his best to change his mind and Keiko hides a smile behind her hand as Hao absorbs that declaration. It’s… less than ideal. But it’s not like Yoh will be able to stop him.

Life continues. No one else stumbles across them; though his absence instills a background sadness in Keiko, it cannot be said that Mikihisa leaving had been ineffective. He’s doing good work, keeping the Asakura family and all those associated with them from discovering the location. Perhaps he’s fed them the lie that Hao is now travelling the continents. It’s how he imagines his time would have been spent, had different decisions been made. If Keiko hadn’t ran, if he hadn’t stuck around.

There will come a time when he shall have to start travelling, to start gathering followers for the Shaman Tournament. As a Patch in his last life, it hadn’t taken him long to discover the secrets that allow the tribe to predict the appearance of the great stars. The celestial bodies that herald the start of the Shaman King Tournament. It’s hardly an exact science, but he knows it will be less than a decade until the time is upon them.

Ideally, Keiko could have had them a few years earlier but he won’t be stopped by a teenaged body.

Hao is eight when he wakes up to silence.

Keiko checks the clock for the third time in two minutes, pursing her lips hard. Her eyes flick over to the living room but it is most definitely Yoh laid out on the floor, hypnotised by his usual morning cartoons. His homework, half complete, is spread out across the kitchen table to be reviewed after they have all sufficiently woken up for the day but-

It’s ten o’clock. It’s ten o’clock and Hao hasn’t come out of his room yet.

“Yoh? Was Hao awake when you woke up?”

Her youngest hums, not even registering his question, utterly enthralled by the television. Keiko plucks a grape from the fruit bowl, launching it in Yoh’s direction. It connects marvellous against the back of his head and her son yelps, not hurt but certainly startled.

“What?”

“Was Hao awake?”

“Uh- yeah? I think? He was just kinda laying there…” Yoh shrugs, turning his attention back to the screen, though not before he pops her previous projectile between his lips to chew on. Gathering up Hao’s now cold breakfast, Keiko makes for the twins’ bedroom, knocking twice on the door. There’s no answer on the other side, but that’s not enough to deter her. On the three occasions that Hao has been sick enough to not crawl out of bed, he’s always been relatively… moody about it, refusing to answer the door and showcase any weakness, no matter how much he’s sweating through the sheets.

“Hao? All okay?” Pushing open the door, Keiko pauses in the threshold, plate balanced in one hand as she inspects the boy in the bed. He’s got the sheets tucked up to his chin but they’re not held there and he’s not shivering, so it’s not a fever. He’s not sweating and there’s no runny nose (that she can see), nor has she heard any coughing coming from his room, so chances are good that’s not the problem either. He’s lucid too, staring up at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

Keiko makes her way over slowly, setting the plate on the bedside table and trying not to scowl at the absolute mess Yoh has left on his bed; sheets kicked to the bottom, pillow hallway off the edge, and one of the under-sheet corners is untucked. She’ll shuffle him back in to tidy up once she’s sorted Hao out.

“Hao?” It takes a moment but he blinks, eyes slowly trailing over to look at her. There’s a careful sort of blankness to his face right now; he’s registering she’s there, but there’s something heavy on his mind. “All okay?”

“I can’t hear anything.”

“You can’t hear anything?” Keiko repeats in stupefied wonder because he had most certainly turned his gaze on her after she’d spoken, he’s not talking loudly like he can’t hear to regulate his own volume, and- and he’s not talking about auditory hearing, is he? Slowly, she sits herself on the side of Hao’s bed, body twisted just enough that she can look at his face as he returns his gaze to the ceiling.

Does that mean he doesn’t have Reishi anymore? Is it completely gone? It must be, otherwise he’d be answering her thoughts right now. Yet, the only way to get rid of Reishi… it’s to trust another person.

Biting her lip, Keiko reaches out, stroking Hao’s hair, running her fingers through the strands. “Hey. It’ll be okay. It’s not like you were defined by that ability. Sure, it might take some getting used to… but, as your Mum, I’m glad.” She feels a little bad for saying it, especially as she come to grasp how much Hao relies on the ability. But, to know he’s been touched enough by someone, that he’s come to actually trust another person… it’s heart-warming.

It feels a little like hope.

Chapter Text

The fire dances, logs snapping and cracking beneath the heat that consumes them. Chin cradled in one hand, Hao tilts his head to a side, listening to the gaggle of shamans he’s gathered chatter amongst themselves. It’s not time yet, the Shaman Tournament won’t be held this year. He can read the stars well enough for that. Yet, it won’t be long. The year after this, without question.

Thumb tapping at the edge of his jawline, he scans the stars, scans their positioning in the great expanse of space above him, only to sigh at what he finds.

“Hao-sama?”

Lifting his gaze to the nearest of his followers (dear Luchist, an addition that had been difficult to make but well worth the effort he’d put forth), Hao offers that same smile that won so many of his current company over.

“It would appear my summer vacation is drawing to a close. I will be expected to return soon.” Now they’re all looking, some conversations cutting off abruptly, others sluggishly trailing to a halt. They all stare. “We can convene next year; I will find you all.”

Hao steps through the flames exactly eleven hours after he had announced his departure to his followers, allowing the Spirit of Fire’s Oversoul to evaporate from his form as his feet meet well-worn wood. The house is empty, not another soul present and that is perhaps for the best. While he needs no masks here, needs to offer up no pretence of exactly who he is... there is a stark difference between Hao the leader of the Hoshigamis and Asakura Hao the son and brother. With so much time spent away, it can only be expected that he will need a moment to acclimatise himself with this part of his life again. Especially given the new accommodations.

For over a decade, he has called only two apartments home; it has been within those walls this body had grown, where his twin had come into his own and his mother, Keiko, had proven herself. Despite the time that has passed, he is still hesitant to describe exactly how she has proven herself, or even what she has proven to him. The outcomes are undeniable though.

Reishi no longer haunts his every waking thought. He no longer rolls beneath a comforter as the thoughts and feelings of others invaded his mind, no longer looks upon a person and knows the truths of what lies they speak. In some ways, it is still rather terrifying to recognise the loss of the ability. In others... he cannot recall a time he has known such peace.

One of the ghosts that resides within the house pokes its head out of the wall to stare at him and Hao stares back. If Keiko has not banished them, then they are probably not worth the hassle. Besides, he’s well aware their current accommodations can only be afforded due to the haunting the ghosts provide. No one wishes to live in a place besieged by ghosts. Not unless they’re shamans, that is. It does prove how terrible the corruption of money is for the world as a whole, but that is another topic entirely and, for all that he can flounce off and ignore propriety to live wild, both Yoh and Keiko are tied to society at present. As such, he’ll begrudgingly conceded to their expectations, even if he shall never possess or use money himself.

Placing his bag down in the hallway, Hao makes his way towards the kitchen, following the enticing scent of vanilla and chocolate. Residing on the kitchen table, a cooling rack topped with various cookies draws him in by their aroma. It is only as he steps closer that Hao notices the variation in the biscuits. Some are shaped as plain circles, some cut like music notes. Then, there are that star cookies. Keiko, of course, will have known he’d be returning any day now.

Lifting the pop-up fly-screen, Hao slips a cookie free, the treat soft beneath his fingertips. Still warm. They can’t have been out of the oven for more than ten minutes which means Keiko has only just left. Yoh... well, Yoh will be doing whatever it is that teenagers are getting sucked into these days. That or lounging about under a tree listening to that horrific musician of his. He’s honestly unsure which of those is worse, nor does he have any inclination to uncover the truth of it.

Instead, Hao takes a bite of his cookie and makes for the stairs. Teleporting across countries is not something beyond him, but combatting the aggressive onset of sleep that comes with changing time zones is something he has yet to master.

An undetermined amount of time later and feeling infinitely more refreshed, Hao rolls out of the tatami bed. He’d been too lazy to pull his hair up into a ponytail and there’s sure to be a series of knots at the back now where his head had been on the pillow which will require a bath or shower to fix. He can address that after greeting the chorus of voices that are echoing out downstairs. They must know he’s here… well, Keiko in the very least will have noticed his bag in the hallway and undoubtedly clicked on to the fact he’s returned. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that Yoh was observant enough to take note of it.

Grabbing a yukata and wrapping it around his waist, Hao makes for the door, pushing the screen open and inspecting the hallway that he’d barely bothered to take note when he was heading for bed. Unlike the bland corridor it’d been during their first day of moving into the house (before Hao had taken off for the summer), it now looks far more like a ‘traditional home’ than a house. There’re pictures of Keiko, Yoh, Mikihisa and himself pinned to the walls or balanced on the little table and ledges; most pictures feature himself and Yoh at different stages in their lives. Photos from the beach, when they went to visit a castle, the park, their first day of school; the list goes on. Compared to the life he’d lived prior to this one, seeing visual evidence of his growth in this one is jarring.

“Hao-nii!” Head tilting to a side, Hao smiles as a child rockets towards him, crouching down to catch the speeding form. Opacho slams into him with enough force that, had he not been balanced against one of the walls, he’d have been knocked off his feet. Instead, he wraps her up in a hug, standing and bringing her to rest on his hip as he goes.

“Hello, Opacho. How are you?”

“I’m good! Kaa-chan made cookies!” She claps her hands together, the smile on her face as wide as it is bright. Her cheeks are rounded with the fat of youth and her eyes sparkle; it’s a far sight from when he’d found her starving to death a few years ago. It doesn’t surprise him in the least that Keiko had been exactly what she needed. True, Hao would have happily raised her himself, but he’d promised his mother he’d attend and complete school. Besides, Keiko has done such a brilliant job in raising Yoh (given she cannot be blamed for his personality faults, such as the laziness) and himself that it was only common sense to ask her to raise Opacho too.

His feet slap gently against the floor as he meanders down the stairs, Opacho nattering away in one ear and he listens dutifully, even though she’s only using one genuine word for every three she speaks. Still, her Japanese is coming along nicely, for all that she hasn’t exactly been able to pronounce the name he had given her previously. Nonetheless, Opacho rather suits her. He’ll have to review just how much influence Yoh has upon their little sister; the orange shirt she’s wearing can only have come from him, after all. Keiko is far more likely to lean towards calm creams and soft browns. Though he supposes the colour isn’t too garnish. Certainly, better than that truly horrific shade of pink he’s seen around the city.

Hao stops outside the kitchen, setting Opacho back on her feet before he walks into the room. Standing by the stove, hair up and apron on, Keiko grinds salt over the meat sizzling in a pan. She’s not the young mother that had brought him into the world; there’s more than a decade on her now and it shows in little ways, like the slight laugh lines that have made a home in the corners of her eyes and mouth. Still, for being in her late thirties, she looks well.

Though he has only spent his summers outside the country a grand total of three times, the soft declaration of, “I’m home,” flows from his tongue with ease.

Keiko drops the grinder.

“Hao!” The space between them is closed quickly, Keiko’s arms wrapping around his shoulders as she presses his head into her collarbone, even though they are getting closer and closer to being the same height as the days pass. Still, the smell of her, the warmth of her hold is breathtakingly familiar. Comforting. For all of the hugs he has received, it still takes him a moment to wrap his own arms around her, to sink into the embrace of mother and home.

They remain that way for an undetermined length of time, it may be just a handful of seconds but it feels like hours. He could exist like this for hours and be content. Eventually though, Keiko draws back, keeping her hands upon his shoulders as she looks him up and down, a frown working onto her face.

“You have been eating enough, haven’t you? It’ll be a bit embarrassing if Yoh grows to be the taller of you both.”

“I haven’t skipped any meals,” Hao insists, even if he can already tell there will be an excess of food upon the kitchen table tonight, as if to try make up for what he hasn’t been able to source for himself. Never mind that he’s been eating more than enough. Despite him being the greatest shaman alive, this doesn’t seem to halt Keiko’s worrying and, in truth, Hao does not wish to do so. More than a decade has passed and he still finds it something he is unaccustomed to, even if he likes it. Smoothing her palms down the length of his arms, Keiko catches his hands in her fingers, giving a light squeeze before she makes her way back to the stove. Hao follows after her, inspecting the array of meats, vegetables and rice dishes that had half prepared. He’s long suspected that Keiko’s pray to that goddess all those years ago has ensured she has a sixth sense for anything relevant to her children; all this food cannot possibly be here just to feed herself and Yoh. And Opacho, of course.

“You missed the first week of school. I did tell the principle you were travelling with your father for his work, but I don’t think he bought it.” It goes unsaid that the man accepting her excuse doesn’t really matter; Hao is a thousand years old and if he cannot beat a middle school curriculum half asleep, then he might as well give up now. It hasn’t mattered what school he is in; he has always been leagues ahead of his year-mates. Not that any of them know the true reason why. Other than Yoh that is, but Yoh understands the need for secrecy.

“Humans,” Hao decides with a dismissive wave, catching Opacho when she launches herself at his leg again to swing her up onto the only counter space not occupied with food. Then, he grabs a kitchen knife and sets to work dicing the carrots. “They’re so preoccupied with what is happening in their own little bubble of reality that they fail to see the damage they’re causing. That, or they write it off as someone else’s problem.” Keiko frowns but doesn’t argue. Instead, she flips the sizzling chunks of beef, flicking rosemary over the pan.

“It was reported on the news that a lot of poachers and illegal loggers have lost their homes, wealth and anything else they held dear this summer. A lot of the destruction was due to fires, though experts have said about three percent of the Amazon rainforest that’d have been lost this year has been saved instead.”

Hao hums, making no comment. Not that he needs to, given the smile that creeps across his lips. They’d deserved it, creating chaos in nature for nothing more than monetary profit and the general narcissism of being able to get away with a crime. No more. He’s not Shaman King yet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do something about the bastards ruining the world.

“We also adopted from the cat shelter.”

“You did?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Hao bites down on his lip and looks away, feeling heat flush through his cheeks at a rate that will be unacceptable to witness on the face of the greatest shaman to ever live. The sound of stirring spoon on pan halts for a moment, Keiko’s hand instead coming to rest upon the crown of his skull and down soothing down the back of his head, playing with the long strands of brown hair.

“Yes. I did say when we had the money, I’d look into getting one. With a sudden influx of cash appearing over the summer holidays-” Keiko pauses, eyeing him and Hao meets her clear ‘I know you made that cash materialise, I’m just not sure how nor am I going to ask’ with a cheery smile. “-I went and got one. Though I’m sorry to say Yoh named her in your absence.”

“And what travesty of a name has he graced this poor feline with?”

“Bob.”

Hao looks to Keiko for any hint that she’s lying but her face is a study in apologia. By the spirits-

“He said that Soul-Bob would be a bit too on the nose given that we are shamans, so he shortened it.”

Hao doesn’t voice the obvious ‘why did he not call the cat Soul’; undoubtedly, his brother will have fed Keiko some convoluted reason as to why the cat absolutely had to be called Bob and, unlike Opacho, the poor creature cannot inform them of what it would actually wish to be known by. So, Bob it is. Shaking his head, Hao finished up on the vegetables that need slicing, carefully placing the knife in the kitchen sink where wandering young hands cannot get along of it. Then, he turns his eyes on the expanse of garden he can see outside of the window, searching for the cat. It takes a moment to spot it beneath the roses, but there’s a ginger tabby stretched out on the earth, sunning itself with the light that leads through the leaves. At least Bob’s looks make up for his atrocious name.

“Go introduce yourself to the cat. I’ll call you back in when Yoh gets home.”

“And this is Tao Ren?” The woman that greets them at the door looks to Asakura Yoh, his opponent who he has drawn against, for an answer. She shares the same features as his opponent, though her jawline is softer and her hair better looked after. Yoh doesn’t seem like the kind to use conditioner, the heathen.

“Yep! This is him!”

“I’m glad you could join us for dinner then. I am Asakura Keiko, Yoh’s mother. Congratulations on passing to the next round.” Of course, he should have expected this idiot would have a soft mother. Still, Ren isn’t stupid enough to put his foot in his mouth; he settles for placing them in a pair of guest slippers instead. There’re a few pairs by the door, several plain white, though there is one red pair with golden stars across the fabric. How tacky.

“Come on, Ren! Ryu helped Mum cook, so it’ll be good!” Then, Yoh’s off, disappearing down the hallway in the direction that the smell of food is wafting from. Ren takes a moment to reign in his temper (because what ass invites someone over to dinner and then doesn’t show them to the table?) before he follows. There’s an abundance of chatter flowing out of the room and, once he passes the threshold, Ren spots one of Yoh’s former opponents sitting beside a girl who is so clearly his sister. Their hair is not the only light spot in the crowd of people within the room; there’s a blonde-haired girl with a stern face, a vertically challenged boy who’s already talking to Yoh, and a girl with her pink tresses cut into a short bob. Then, of course, there’s the one with the odd hairstyle helping out within the kitchen itself.

“Ren, buddy! Glad you could make it!” Yoh’s first opponent (the ice attacks had been somewhat impressive, right up until he’d lost to the Asakura idiot) bellows across the table at him as he slaps the cushion by his side; an invitation for Ren to join him. Ren ignores it. Instead, he looks to Yoh’s mother for instructions and she smiles at him, a soft curve of her lips that makes his cheeks feel hot.

“Just take a seat anywhere, Tao-kun. We’re almost done.” Asakura Keiko turns on her heels and makes for the kitchen, greeting the tall teen in there. They work well together, he notes; they must have a fair amount of practice.

“This isn’t right.”

“Anna! Don’t start something now, please.” Ren tones out all the voices after that, settling himself in a seat one over from Yoh, leaving the cushion between them free. He might… tolerate the other, but he sure as hell doesn’t want it implied that he likes the other. That’d be asinine. Though he does take a moment to consider the moody blonde who seems torn between scolding Yoh and holding her tongue. He has no idea who this bossy teenager is, but he highly doubts Yoh’s mother would appreciate her taking her son to task; that’s family business, after all.

For the next few minutes, Ren exists in a state of forced peace, not allowing anyone at the table to pull him out of his semi-meditation. He ignores Bason talking to the samurai spirit, ignores the rabble and ruckus the others cause. He peels his eyes open as the food is placed on the table. Keiko takes one of the seats next to Yoh, while the teenager who’d been cooking with her sits himself down beside the blonde girl with the attitude. There’s a moment’s pause as the two Asakura’s look to one another, the mother’s face slowly turning sad.

“Well, I guess he’s not coming.”

“Nah, he’ll come,” Yoh insists, smiling and, prophetically, the front door opens somewhere down the hall. A moment later, a small child is sliding around the corner, only to launch herself towards Yoh with a call of ‘big brother’. Given the fact she’s clearly not Japanese, Ren will assume adoption. However, the child is clearly not the one they’re waiting for, given the soft slap of house-slippers approaching down the hall. The last thing Ren takes care to register is the blonde’s (Anna’s?) disgruntled look before his attentions are on the newcomer.

And he does a rapid double take. Because that is Yoh’s face.

All the others at the table seem to have registered it at the same time, the blue-boy slamming a fist on the table as he points to Yoh.

“You have a twin?!”

Both Yoh and twin blink, the latter smiling far more calmly than Yoh’s sheepish offering. Ren scans the other Asakura, taking in the long brown hair (more in line with his mother than Yoh’s), the large earrings and the long white poncho.

He’s wearing the red-star slippers than Ren’d turned his nose up at.

Asakura twin sits himself on the last cushion, between Yoh and Ren, and the little girl is quick to crawl into his lap, eagerly eyeing the array of foods upon the table.

“Right, now that everyone is here, we can get started. Gloves off at the table, Hao.”

“Yes Mother.” The boy, Hao, removes the heavy gloves (that’re stamped with his name; how big-headed), settling them behind him before he turns his attentions to the blonde. “Anna; looking as enchanting as always.”

Anna clenches her fist and snaps her chopsticks. Maybe Asakura Hao needs his eyes checking, because that face is more in line with demonic.

Then, the full name catches up with Ren, slamming into him with reminders of all the warnings that’d been whirling around the shaman world the past few years.

Asakura Hao, as in, the tyrant who’s reincarnated, a threat to the whole world; this is that guy?!