[It's like he's a match and she's made of striker, or maybe the other way around--as soon as they hit against the grain of each other's temper, they're gone.]

I wouldn't have to nag if for once you'd just--ugh!

[Keiko whips around again and keeps walking, anger coiled tight in the space between her shoulders, the dead center of her eyes. She does it out of disgust and frustration--she's no martyr, she has no higher calling to cool down--but the second Yusuke's out of her line of sight, she remembers: every hit that monster landed on him, tossing him about like a rag doll, and Yusuke wasn't a man, he was just a boy. He was just a kid. Just Yusuke.

Her hands tighten on her elbows. She wrestles her voice into submission.]

Fine. You're fine. I get it. I just wish you'd...

[That was the whole problem back then, wasn't it? The reason Toguro had to kill--had to make Yusuke think he'd killed Kuwabara. Keiko couldn't take anything more, then, couldn't absorb what was happening, but that doesn't mean she couldn't see. Couldn't hear. Wouldn't have those memories to rewind and play through later, staring at the ceiling of a hotel room on a strange, deadly island, or the wall of a guest bedroom at the Luteces'.]

Forget it. I'm just glad you're back in one piece.