“You sure you want to do this?” Kurama rumbles. Underneath him, Shisui makes a strangled sound, sucking in a hard breath and squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh gods, please don’t do the voice thing or there won't be anything to do.”

Before he follows, Shisui takes one more look out the cold glass, and shivers. He can hear the floe grinding against the surrounding ice, an eerie, disconcerting sound, like a massive beast growling in the darkness. The howl of the wind is a high, lonely counterpoint, a forsaken sound, and Shisui grits his teeth and forces himself to ignore it. He’ll get used to the sound someday. He won't have a choice.