Second Try

Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try
Chapter Ten: Intrusion
Word Count: 7,548
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai
Author: Kita Kitsune
Date: Friday(gold-day!), September 25, 2009
Miscellaneous Notes: Ah, and yes, I know Hiei said the thieves(not his mother!) who raised him, named him. My thought is, that Hina named him after he was tossed, because it all happened so quickly she didn’t have time to give him a name. However, in the insanity-producing aftermath where she starts to use ‘the ice-sculpted-infant’, it seems only natural she’d give her pseudo-baby ‘son’ a name. Now then—in Japanese, with the right kanji: Fire + boy= Hio （火男 ）. Simple. Easy. Dirty(no, I don’t really care if it’s not a real name. ;3). xD Hey, she’s insane, cut her some slack for the lack of creativity~ x3

More Notes(Saturday, October 10, 2009): Waha, finished the chapter(onto write the next one~!). I hope none of you mind my insertions of Japanese. Usually I try to keep them to just spoken stuff, and try to keep the narratives in English, but if anyone’s confused let me know. Typically, if I put Japanese into dialogue it’s either got a translation nearby or the meaning should be obvious enough that you guys understand. :3 Otherwise, I try not to do too much Japanese. It’s an English fic, after all.

Even More Notes(Saturday, October 24, 2009): [Uwah, I’m posting this over a month after I finished it. D: ] …Ah. Also. Sorry for the late post. I had no Internet(at my apartment) from Tuesday the 13th until basically today(they hooked up the DSL, but it still wasn’t working so I’ve had to call technical support about three times). So… yes. It wasn’t quite possible to adhere to timely updating(although I’ve finished chapter eleven and started chapter twelve, so perhaps it helped ease off the pressure, a bit…)—and, damn, but life is dull without Internet(still not on a completely-functional connection, but I wanted to post!). ;.;~

BlueUtopiah-sama: Thanks so, so much for the review! I’m sorry I couldn’t get a chapter up for you on your birthday. x.x~ I’m also really tired, right now… the phone company guy woke me up when he was talking outside my window about DSL stuff and such(he left before I could talk to him, though!), and then I’ve been on the phone with my ISP technical support for about the past two hours, so… after I post this on here, and post chapter nine on FF.net, I’m probably going to sleep. xD Aaaaand… then, hopefully wake up and finish chapter twelve, so chapter eleven won’t be so far off.

[ZOMG I CAN FINALLY READ FAWX-SAN’S UPDATE ON ‘IMMORTAL’~! AND LADY_FLAMEWING’S NEW KURAMA/YUUSUKE FIC! HUZZAH! (And maybe ‘Saiyuki’, online… my friend gave me some of her manga, and so I’m up past the second volume of ‘Reload’—I believe her act of kindness saved my sanity in the ensuing boredom of no-Internet-times. ;3~)]

As always! Tell me if anyone’s OOC or horrible or anything! Sekah-san, I hope your life is much more comfortable and fun than it was when I last checked(New chapter in t’is fic~! Wills it makes you feel betters~~?). :3 …oh, yeah. xDD All you Karasu/Kurama fans are most likely going to love one part of this chapter(tell me what you think, dammit! ;.;~~)… I think. x.o~

: : : : : : :

~Four Days Earlier~

Where is she!?

He firmly pushed away the rue that was tugging at his mind, forcing himself to flit faster from branch to branch. He’d not left her, for long—! She should still be in this forest! She was not fast, she was not powerful, she could not travel long distances in a few minutes’ time, as he could—

So… why?! Why can’t I locate her!

An uneasy feeling had settled in the back of his mind, reminded of the only other time his Jagan had not been able to pick up her youki. Along with it came guilt, but he had no time for it now—no time to dwell on the last expression he’d seen on her face, that shocked incredulity, that…

He could handle everyone else damning him, but she—Yukina was… she was his sister, damn it! Light where he was dark, bettering the world in unknowing penance for everything he had destroyed or ever would. He had never wanted her to know… everyone else he could reject and be rejected by without batting an eye, but Yukina—he never wanted to see rejection in her eyes. It was a weak reason, a low reason… but it kept her far enough away from him that it did its intended duty.

But for… three weeks ago.

Has it really been three weeks?!

He cursed himself, for the time-lapse.

As the woods had echoed with her fading call for him not to leave, he had run. Harder and faster than he ever had, before, he had run. Over branches, dodging pinecones and snowdrifts, birds’ nests(this far north, he was mildly surprised), fleeing higher and further from the source of the strange, unsettled, raw thing that had gutted him in the chest. He had flown, raced the wind, challenged the snowstorms. The ground grew colder and harder with each mile up towards the northern edge of the large island.

He didn’t think. He couldn’t. No thought. Just run.

There was nowhere to go. Just run.

He didn’t know how long, how many days, or weeks, or how many nights he spent in that same patch of forest bordering the icy sea, endlessly running along the same paths with only slight variations to keep his mind occupied, not allowing it to wander. He didn’t know where she was, what she was doing. All he knew was he’d exhausted himself, and involuntarily collapsed—falling from a tree onto the snowy ground. Cold, solid ice between his fingers melted instantly as he fisted it against his palm. Breathing hard, he pushed himself up, hands pressing into fast-disappearing snow, and stared down at the chilled whiteness, red eyes wild and erratic as they tried to resist the pulling of his focus from the physical—which had sustained him for so long—to something not in their field of vision.

“Hiei-san…“ That positively breathless utterance was too soft, too trembling with repressed emotion—and the intensity of those scarlet eyes spooked him. The raw feeling raging behind them was a deluge that would escape, throw down their barriers and threaten to swallow them both in a far too real future, seen in her gaze. It was insane. Too much—too much.

I can’t be here.

He was gone, then, and heard a gasp from far behind him, the distant crunch of snow underfoot as she stumbled forward a few steps. No doubt she was reaching out for his blurred after-image, tipping forward, her mind’s plea louder to him than the gentle, desperate voice echoing around the place he’d completely left, seconds prior—

Don’t go…

He had been a fool, to run. To leave her, unprotected and alone in these woods so far north where there were no humans around for miles. It had been inexcusably irresponsible of him. To think, that… to think that he had dared place his own discomfort above her safety. What kind of guardian was he!

He’d only come back to himself, a few hours ago, and the first thought was to search for her. He scanned the region, calmly assuring himself he’d find her youki with no trouble—cool and sweet, chilled only around the edges. When nothing came up, he hadn’t worried. He’d merely redirected himself, flitting further south while continuing to search with the Jagan for her ki. When he came up with nothing once more, he began to feel unsettled. When he reached the clearing where he’d left her, and found only the faintest lingering trace of her youki—the trail a month old, at that—he found his anxiety growing yet more.

Perhaps she had merely… left, to return to Tokyo? It was a long journey by foot, and he recalled how she did not entirely trust the conveniences of modern Japan. Yes, that… that was a likely possibility. He had disappointed her by leaving, so suddenly, and she had given up her search of him—most likely annoyed. The fire youkai violently pushed down the tightening in his chest, at the thought.

It was best, this way. It was best for her to move on, from him. She would be in no danger if she stayed away. Perhaps it was better she was angry with him, for keeping the truth from her, for so long—it would keep her away.

After another moment’s introspection, that black blur disappeared in a silent smear of shadow. Whether she wished to see him, or not—she was still his sister, his only living family, and it would not sit right with him until he located her, knew she was safe.

—Truth be told, he did not relish meeting with her unless forced to. Perhaps he was not admitting to himself he did not wish to be hurt by any irritated words she might send his way. Perhaps, this was the reason he cloaked his energy flawlessly, to avoid being detected should he indeed locate her…

Easily flickering through dense woodland, he headed south—towards Sendai, and he would go no further. If he did not find her in a day or two, he would return here. It was a rough estimate, assuming that a one-month journey on foot would take him only a pair of days. He pushed himself to his uppermost limits, Jagan opened wide and glowing an eerie purple on his forehead, seeking.

I will find her, and then I will leave her be, once more.

I will not stifle her with overprotection, as the fox does his mother.

: : :

A lavender gaze narrowed, acutely aware of how close that ninja’s brush had placed aforementioned ninja’s fingers to his kitsune’s wrist. He was fuming internally, hands fisted angrily within their deep pockets, oculars narrowed to intimidating slits. Otherwise, no one could tell, he was suppressing his youki excellently, so as to leave the other members of his team unaware of his current state of disgruntled annoyance. No one could see the hard line of his jaw beneath the mask, anyway. It was maddening enough that that low-level youkai was smearing his ugly, smelly blood all over his fox… He’d be sure to kill him after the match was over, for committing such an atrocity.

—Even though the idea of warding Kurama did have some merit.

“Something bothering you~?” The cackle that sounded in his ear was obnoxiously delighted. He closed his eyes, briefly imagining tearing the bearer of that voice limb from limb until there was nothing left but scraps for the rats and vermin to feed upon. However, when he turned his head, those violet oculars were cool and mildly bored. They spited the sharp desire to flick their vision back to the ring where his kitsune battled the first of his opponents.

“Not at all.” The small, devilish man grinned up at him, not at all fazed by the bored façade.

“Come now, I see the way you look at him…” Beady eyes moved to his right, towards the ring, avidly running up and down. He refused to follow that gaze, as well as give into the urge to rip the offending optics from their sockets—for daring to soil Kurama’s self by having such a gaze rest upon his darling youko. “He’s pretty and powerful… and I know how you like pretty things.” Hooded eyes drew back to him, small teeth showing in a fine, irritatingly knowing smirk. The taller youkai merely settled his gaze back upon the ring, voice casual if slightly tinny, due to his mask.

“I’m certain I haven’t the faintest idea as to what you refer.” It would do no good to have Ani think he understood how he felt about Kurama. No one could understand—only death could grant them that grace.

: : :

~Two Weeks Earlier~

Where is he?!

She was beginning to fret, she knew—she could feel it, could feel that it wasn’t helping anything, but was powerless to stop the tidal wave of worry from encompassing her. She could have sworn she’d seen that tree formation, before…

Dispirited, she sank to a seat at the base of one of the trees, lying her head in her arms. She knew she shouldn’t despair—Hiei-san was strong, he wouldn’t be such a great fighter if he could be killed easily.

Perhaps, then, it was the fact he had run from her, that stung so horribly. She only wished to know him—she had only wished to have known her mother… She only wished to be important, to her family. Hiei-san was dear to her, very important to her… ever since Rui-san had told her the truth of the day of her birth.

Ever since Rui-san had admitted to being the reason Hina-okaasan had gone insane…

She still loved Rui-san, yes, but—upon hearing her mother-figure’s opinion that her brother was still alive, somewhere… she couldn’t remain on Hyouga. Every part of her soul ached to find a blood-kin, but her father—she had no chance of locating him. Her brother, however, had Hina-okaasan’s other birth-hiruiseki. If nothing else, she might be able to find him with her own. It was a terribly scant chance, but she had to try. Her only living family… she could not not try to locate him.

And, in some part of her heart, she was still shocked and dismayed at Rui-san’s own society-driven cruelty. To break a promise to Hina-okaasan, and to toss her brother— Yukina shuddered, feeling tell-tale sobs well up in the back of her throat. It was not good, for her to be alone. When she was alone, all of these dark thoughts played at her mind… it really… perhaps, it wasn’t so very odd. After all, she was a carbon copy of Hina-okaasan in nearly every way(except her eyes)—physically, mentally and emotionally. When she was younger, she had taken a small solace in the fact that she did not look different from her mother, but for her eyes. If she had appeared too terribly different… she trembled to think what Maiko-san and the other girls would have done to her, then.

“My, my, how sad…” A soft voice echoed out from the trees, and she raised her head, startled. When she saw a figure emerging from the darkness she hurriedly pushed away from the tree, stifling her thoughts and trying to cover her fear as she backed away from them a few steps. The—human!—was tall and broad-shouldered… he couldn’t have been pure Japanese. Small eyes that were slanted enough to appear eternally closed were set in his face beneath a smattering of common black hair, his jaw wide and chin long and chiseled. He absently reminded her of Kazuma-san… but when he spoke again she jumped, involuntarily.

“You were searching for your brother, and yet he ran from you when you found him. What a shame…” She felt tears in her eyes, at the comment. How did—?! How did this man know such a thing?? Had he been watching her? Those invisible eyes surveyed her, thoughtfully. She couldn’t place why, but… there was something disturbingly familiar about the man, despite the fact she was positive she had never seen him before. She opted for pleading oblivious.

“I… I am sorry, but I am unaware as to what you are—“

“Lying doesn’t suit you, Yukina-san.” She gasped, bringing a delicate hand to her mouth, eyes widening as she took another step back. The tall man took another forward. How did he… He smiled, and she couldn’t help but notice it was almost intimidating.

“Rui-san sent me to find you.” A human male?! In Makai—on Hyouga?! Impossible—but, he seemed to clear her train of thought with his next easy comment. “Granted, I am human, but I have certain… abilities… that allow me to cross between the worlds as I please.” He smiled, and she was again reminded of the image of a predator’s sharp teeth. “Would you care to listen to what I have to say?”

She paused—her instincts were telling her to run, that this man could only do her harm… but, then—how did he know about Rui-san? She had never spoken to anyone of her past, before… not even Genkai-shihan, Botan-san, or Touya-san knew of what precisely had occurred in her childhood. She preferred to keep it that way, not wanting to lose her dear friends if they learned of how she had been scorned by her own people. Japanese society was much the same way, after all, and she did not wish to risk losing the acceptance her friends so easily gave. So, she kept her distance as best she could, polite and pleasant by nature, but unerringly tight-lipped about her own issues. After another moment of thought, her trust in Rui-san won out, and she bowed at the waist, one hand curled around the other—clutching the fabric covering her lap—tone soft and polite.

“Thank you for your hard work. Please, do me the honor of divulging what you have traveled so far to say.” She didn’t quite notice the feral grin sneaking over his face, bowed as she was, with her eyes resting respectfully on the snowy ground.

Rui-san would not send someone who would injure her—who was untrustworthy—to find her.

She was certain of this, at least.

: : :

Later that night, back in his den, in his forest, once more, he idly fingered the gold and silver trinkets he’d stolen with such ease, at last tossing them carelessly onto a bit of moss off to the side. Linking his arms behind his head with a satisfied murmur, he settled in, gaze momentarily wandering up. It danced across the open entwinements of branches overhead that granted him slivers of a view of the green canopy and skies far above. Smiling lazily, he took a deep breath of the perfumed scents of the deep wood, sighing contently as amber depths at last slid shut, drifting off to sleep in utter relaxation, in his home.

: : :

Had he known that noble had ties with powerful warlords of many different lands, perhaps he would not have been so rash in his disrespect—nor so quick to give his name and place of residence.

Had he been raised in ‘proper’ society, he might have perhaps understood the ramifications of his actions—from the parents of the children he so enjoyed the company of, and them not wanting their young ones to be influenced by a ‘thief’ and a ‘murderer. The legends and fear he’d originally inspired by killing all malign trespassers on his land had apparently been reawakened, due to the recent showcasing of his lack of morals.

Had he known the noble would call in favors upon favors, merely to seek revenge on the fabled ‘Youko of Kurama-mori’…

Perhaps he would have not indulged himself in such a ‘harmless bit of fun’.

As of yet, he was young, though…

He had centuries to learn how vengeful slighted nobles could be.

He had centuries to learn how over-reactive protective parents could be.

He had centuries to learn how to be careful with his name, until he was so powerful none could stand against him.

He had centuries to learn all this, but…

It was all condensed into one sharp, sad, angry loss of a night.

: : :

~One Day Earlier~

School had ended some time ago, but at least one devoted student remained behind. His uniform jacket had been discarded over a chair in the adjoining classroom in favor of not ruining it(no thoughts for the already dirt-smeared white button-up, collared undershirt he wore, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to minimize the damage). As such, only the infamously-colored trousers gave away that he was, indeed, a legal student of this institution. Although any student or teacher in the academy could have vouched for that…

The wildly red locks were pulled back at his nape in a messy bun. Many escaped the attempt at taming, however, and they jutted out and curled due to the heat of the room. A few sticky strands clung to his cheeks, forehead and neck in the humid air of the greenhouse. True to its name and yet not, plants of all shapes and colors(albeit mostly green, after all) clung to the edges of the small enclosure. Some were tall and reached to the ceiling from the floor, others claimed only small pots dotted around waist-high rectangular tables. Still others twined around wooden brackets leaned against the sides of the completely-glass room, ivy climbing its way up closer to the sunlight that leaked in from overhead. He took a deep breath—and then smiled, gently petting at a leaved vine that was tickling against his temple. Perhaps it was attempting to straighten his hair.

It smelled like dirt, and life, and nature, in here… humid, improbable, lazy nature. It was a far-removed haven from the rest of the school—indeed, the rest of the city, with its crammed trains and streets, masses of people everywhere. This little room was a momentary oasis, and it gave him the lovely excuse to drop in, every day, to ‘check on the plants’. They always greeted him with waving vines, a few of the older ones offering up a bit of ki. He refused the bulk of it, as always, taking only the smallest possible amount before returning the favor with his own—his energy was like fertilizer, to them. They would never drain him dry for their own selfish gain, however. His mere presence was enough, but when he could spare it, he boosted them a little. Usually, when he would be gone for a good amount of time…

A frown creased across his face, expression darkening at the memories of the last time he’d had to employ that particular technique. Soft petals dusting over his cheek woke him from the shadowed memories of death and ten-counts. He offered an absent smile to the concerned flower before moving on to the next table. Uncomfortable things…

Uncomfortable…

Memory forcibly jarred, at the word, he found his thoughts wandering back to the day before. What on earth… Kanisawa-san was truly a mystery. He could be nothing but human, and yet… there had been something almost familiar about him, yesterday. Something… he could have sworn there was a glint in those brown eyes.

And that—!

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks once more, he found himself scoffing at(both) the memory and his(current) reaction.

Really, now… I’m acting like one of those children they call my ‘peers’.

And yet… perhaps it wasn’t so far-fetched. This body was only fifteen, and in the throes of human puberty… and, after all… it had been rather quiet, as of late. He’d slowly lost contact with Kuwabara-kun and Yuusuke, and all the others of their group, after Hiei had left.

Hiei…

He had firmly told himself not to hope, any longer(and had succeeded the past few nights, in at last locking his window). The Jaganshi had been gone for half a year, after rejecting him! He had not so much bothered to drop by! He had, not once, sensed Hiei in the vicinity of Tokyo. Hiei—had not tried to contact him, at all. What sort of friend abandoned people like that?! Frustrated—and caught in the midst of the ever-conflicting war between his emotions and thoughts—he violently jerked the faucet in the large sink on, jamming the watering can beneath it. Steam practically rose from under his head, as he glared at the poor, innocent watering canister as though blaming it for all the fire youkai’s failings. …After a few moments, he exhaled a sigh, the grip on the object’s handle growing less white-knuckled.

Without contact with any of the members of their small group, it left him very little time to ‘be himself’. That is… not ‘Shiori’s son’, not ‘the perfect student’, not ‘Minamino Suuichi-kun’… simply himself. He’d forgotten how rare it was, to find people who accepted him for who he was—‘human, mixed with masquerading-fox-demon-in-Ningenkai’—and had only begun to rue the drifting ties, recently. He didn’t care much for sharing himself with people he hardly knew… and as Yuusuke and the others faded further and further from ‘friend’ to ‘acquaintance’, he was well aware he was distancing himself. He couldn’t bring himself to care, too much.

Yuusuke, Kuwabara-kun and everyone else always reminded him of Hiei…

Brought back to the moment, he stared in quiet surprise as he noticed the watering can was overflowing, rather harmlessly(if one ignored the water-waste aspect of it) in the sink. Lethargically, he twisted his wrist and turned off the stream, leaving the heavy container where it was, before going back to potting. It was a familiar, mindless task—taking care of the florae in this greenhouse(as such a thing was a constant in his life, no matter where or what time period he lived in)—and he found himself falling back to a much newer train of thought.

Kanisawa-san. There was something about him that was… Kurama could easily count how many times he’d actually blushed from embarrassment, in his human life. (Other activities where such facial redness was unavoidable excluded, of course.) One of those was yesterday—he shook his head. Why had Kanisawa-san been able to get such a reaction from him? The boy had done nothing original, it was an old gentleman’s trick, to treat ladies in such a way, when courting them—

Abruptly, that heat to his face returned. As though he were a lady—it hadn’t felt mocking, no… but the look in those eyes. He’d sworn he’d caught a grin, after turning away to try to hide the obvious flush. A glint, a grin… all teasing. Perhaps he was merely too lonely for companionship… yes, that must be it. Kanisawa-san knew he wasn’t human—he was a bit sketchy on the details as to how—but the boy must know he wasn’t human, to block his reiki from the youko’s notice, so well.

To be so cautious about not getting caught—

He must be very shy.

However, that train of thought clashed horribly with the dark-haired teen’s actions, yesterday. Granted, the youth’s feelings towards him had been made rather obvious, with that first real ‘confrontation’, at night, with that old tree, just outside the redhead’s house… but—it was as though a shift had occurred. One moment, Kanisawa-san would be blushing, or tongue-tied, the other… smooth and cool, charming with glittering eyes that seemed so familiar. He knew he’d never met the boy, though. For him to be so… weak, against a mere human’s amorous advances…

I truly am lonely, aren’t I? It was a woefully sad thought.

I am so lonely, I am latching onto the first human who shows an interest…

The kitsune sighed.

How troublesome(and needlessly complicated) this second life was shaping up to be…

A soft knock at the closed door to the greenhouse stirred him from his thoughts, and he tucked a spare curl of ruby behind his ear—thoughtless to the dirt bathing the digits. He called easily behind him, expecting one of his fellow classmates to need him for something. They too often found something they positively required his help, or opinion, on. As it was, he was quite famous for taking diligent care of the plants in the greenhouse every day after classes had concluded, and thus was too predictable—the resulting disruptions were bothersome, but must be tolerated. Of course, none of this showed through his tone or expression, both light and cheerful as they often took themselves to be, in this school.

“It’s open! Douzo!” He heard the soft click of the knob being turned, but couldn’t be bothered with turning around, quite yet—he was transplanting a young tree to a bigger pot, as the roots were beginning to get cramped in the too-small space. At the moment of the knock he’d been lugging it out of its previous pot(no easy task, small or not, a tree was still a tree). Now, he managed to hug the plant to his chest, both arms wrapped around the cone-shaped soil buffering the roots from their surroundings. Slowly, he strode towards, then squatted in front of the pot he’d prepared. He carefully aimed for the hole he’d dug in the center of the potting soil before beginning to lower the sapling into its new home. When it was secure enough not to fall over he let it drop, poured a bit more dirt around the top layer, packed it in and at last straightened. Bangs sticky with the combined heat, humidity, and exertion were wiped away from his forehead, a beaming, content expression lighting up his young face. The tiny tree’s small leaves waved slightly towards him in thanks, and—having all but forgotten about his visitor—the fox turned to fetch the watering can from its spot in the sink.

He found his lower arm caught by a hand he hadn’t seen, and was whipped around—not given time to really register the tingle spreading up from that point of contact. Spare strands of scarlet swayed around his head(most still caught in the messy bun at the back) with the fast movement as beryl hues widened in surprise. For an instant he felt a shot of fear, but it dissipated quickly upon recognizing who was attached to that hand. Notably relieved, the kitsune relaxed a bit, blinking—but cast a slightly curious glance towards the taller teen, nonetheless.

Slender fingers moved towards his face, and the redhead blinked, again—not drawing back, he had no reason to fear the ebony-haired youth, at any rate—as they tenderly moved over his cheek, applying a bit of pressure as though wiping something away. The digits retreated just as slowly as they’d come, and he spied a bit of dirt smearing the ends of them as they rubbed together, as though testing the texture of it. He was too aware as his temperature shot up a few more degrees, in the hot room. He tended to get absorbed in his plants, when he was tending to them, and the amused look Kanisawa-san was sending him only helped confirm the situation. Mirth practically coated the other’s tone, as he spoke.

“You have dirt on your face.” Green eyes rolled upward with a small huff of a laugh as he tried to dismiss his own embarrassment. He gently jerked his arm from the now-relenting grip, heading for the sink and the paper towels(pausing mentally, a moment, to revel in the irony of that). He washed his hands and wrists thoroughly before wetting one of said towels, and rubbing it over his apparently-soiled visage. Having no mirror in the room, the kitsune turned for an opinion, jade catching sight of his companion with a wry smile.

“…is it better, now~?” Contemplative cinnamon took him in, and he felt another spark coil up his spine at the appraising look… why did it feel that way? Why did Kanisawa-san’s gaze have such a… strange effect on him? It was reminiscent, of something—he didn’t have much time to puzzle over it, though, as said person was moving, long pale fingers quietly taking the wet towel from his own. The as-of-yet-unused hand rose, cupping the redhead’s cheek to keep it still and the kitsune felt another flare of heat spike across the bridge of his nose, to that—

Curse this human body’s hormonally-heightened sensitivity!

He blamed it on his body’s adolescence, as there could be no other excuse for the blush that now painted his face bright red as that cool ‘cloth’ dutifully swiped at any remaining streaks of dirt he’d missed. Unsure, emerald flicked back and forth, examining the gaze across from him even as it remained stoic and quiet, the hue as unchanging as the calmness emanating from the other.

…He felt light-headed, he realized. It was strange, when Kanisawa-san was like this… he’d only known the boy a few days, but he could tell it was odd. This behavior… it was so different than how the other teen usually was—shy and stuttering, easy to blush. It was a paradox, that the boy could be this calm when in perhaps similar situations he’d seemed rather… uncomfortable. But, then—perhaps it wasn’t that atypical, after all. If one were to be a judge of oddness…

As that face drew closer, the kitsune blinked, suddenly—eyes growing wide as that mouth advanced, then disappeared, out of his range of sight only to announce its presence by murmuring against his ear. It was with effort that he stilled the shudder threatening to escape over his frame.

“Now, it’s better. You surprise me, Kurama…” The way he said that name… It was frustrating, how familiar that voice was, at times like this. He’d wondered if giving his ‘real’ name to a human had been wise—wouldn’t Koenma be annoyed with the lack of secrecy, for that? …However, the boy had already known he was a demon, hadn’t he? Kanisawa-san wouldn’t have shielded his reiki if he thought the kitsune wouldn’t be able to sense it—

“A-ah…” Somewhere during his train of thought, those lips had moved—not sucking, just the barest brush of contact along the edge of his ear, then down along his jaw. His pulse began to speed, his knees shaking slightly—it was insane, this. That… He didn’t have time to think as cool digits brushed over the opposite cheek, the paper towel apparently lost elsewhere as the pad of the thumb arched over his face in a lazy half-circle. Tiers pursed, pressing chaste kisses on the underside of his jaw and then upward until clouded jade could at last latch onto intense copper.

This… it had been so long. So long. So long, since…

Months, and months of pained waiting, then hopelessness, then… It was a strange sensation, not wringing affection from someone. To have it given freely, to be pursued instead of pursuing—tears threatened at the memories, at the conflicts, but he stoically forced them away. The emotion likely showed through, anyway, as he felt his vision blurring before he had to avert it. He didn’t get far, though, as fingers gently but firmly angled his face back, and his own startled inhale caught another’s exhaled breath in mild shock as he realized the other was a mere hair’s breadth from—

“What is wrong, Kurama… ?” The confused words seemed to break the spell he’d been under—and he was brought abruptly aware of their position. Hands that’d wandered, unnoticed, to rest on the other’s hips at some point stiffened, drawing back even though one of them was caught at the wrist, preventing that. Thwarted at his attempt at a full escape, the redhead dove under the thick fringe of bangs covering his forehead to hide. He just now realized he was leaning back against the sink, the taller boy as good as pinning him there with his presence, one hand still cupping his cheek as the other held his arm at the joint. The redhead made to try to push him off with his free arm, voice a faint undertone in the quiet greenhouse.

“I… I cannot do this to you.” He cursed the weak indecision he felt in his voice, as well as his own lack of control over it, trying to regain something he’d lost with the formal language. A human, of all things—the boy would be put in too much danger if it became known the kitsune had a soft spot for yet another human. Another target. It was ridiculous, anyway—he barely knew this boy, after all—but it was best to keep humans at a healthy distance. He’d done this before, with Shiori… as well as Maya. It should be easy enough, even without resorting to his pollen. The redhead overcompensated for the next comment, steadying his voice to something more resembling its usual tone. Even as there were a thousand other reasons why he should stop what was slowly occurring between them from happening, he settled on the easiest of them all.

“I am not… quite over someone—” Kurama winced, mentally, half-hating himself as his body abruptly ached for the imminent loss of warmth over him. “I cannot be unfair to y—” He gasped as insistent pressure interrupted him, effectively stifling his words to silence. Pale fingers then sprawled over his cheek, brushing against the skin tenderly before slipping around to the back of his neck and playing with a few of the mussed strands. Their lips met—slowly… gingerly—in the ensuing silence.

Warmth. It seeped into him from what seemed to be every crevice, filling his body and he felt his own digits twitch in fruitless response to the light kiss. Jade fell half-shut after initially widening, watching as he was being observed from beneath heavy lashes. A soft sound escaped into the other’s touch as the tiers moved against his own. Fingers tightened against the fabric of the front of the other’s shirt(where they’d moved, to initially try to push away) as their counterparts curled into air, that wrist of theirs now captured as it was.

The moment was brief, it ended… and, ashamed for his own weakness, the fox bowed his head, once more hiding beneath the shadows of his hair. Lips brushed over his cheek, so he closed his eyes, trying to tune himself away from that voice even as it whispered so calmly, so unerringly simply, to him—

“Yes. You can.”

: : :

~Present Time~

The teenager emerged from the bushes, no worse for his excursion except for a few twigs and leaves stuck standing up in his hair. The sun had nearly set, and temperatures were fast approaching unbearable. To sleep in, anyway. There was always the threat of hypothermia to worry about, but he doubted even he’d be dumb enough to sit still long enough to succumb. Cursing, he ran a careless hand through the dark brown locks, narrowing a glare on the device strapped to his opposite wrist.

“Dammit!” He shook the fist attached to the offending technology, throwing back his head bellowing his frustration to the trees overhead.

“It’s fucking cold out here, Hiei! Stop messing with me or I swear the first thing I’m gonna do when I find you is punch your lights out!”

“You’ve gotten lax.” The voice caught him unawares, and he jumped nearly a foot before whipping around and stumbling away from the sword-wielding Jaganshi scarcely a meter behind him. That was way too far into personal space for someone who had the potential to be both deadly and pissed-off at Yuusuke’s sudden ‘intrusion on his solitude’. …Power levels not taken into account, he still would prefer not to be found on the business end of the youkai’s katana.

“Shit, Hiei! …Shit!” He gaped like a fish, for a moment—only partially from various levels of surprise. (One being the fact his yelling had actually brought forth the very demon he was searching for.) Recovering from his shock well, the brunet paused—then advanced on the Jaganshi, pointing rudely at the short demon’s nose. (He resisted the urge to actually poke the appendage as it might result in the digit being bitten off.)

“You! Where’ve you been! Yukina’s been worried, Koenma’s throwing a fit, Kuwabara… well, Kuwabara couldn’t care less, but he doesn’t count.” A large grin spread over his face at the mild insult towards their mutual acquaintance—and the thought that the tall carrot-top might have just sneezed, quite a distance away, back in Tokyo. Drawn from his musings in a sudden moment of rare insight, sharp roan scanned in a cursory once-over of his friend. It had been half a year since anyone had seen the Jaganshi, after all… Hiei didn’t look too bad, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t right. Despite all his teasing, Yuusuke hadn’t even received what would often be the customary insult to even a mild mention of others’ concern for the fire youkai.

Hiei was only staring at him, countenance utterly impassive and hands tucked neatly away into his black cloak. Red eyes couldn’t have been harder, or more shielded. His features couldn’t have been tenser(and, as Hiei always guarded his expression, that was saying quite a lot). And if he took the time… were the edges of that fabric fraying and worn? More than they’d ever been, before—the white scarf looked dingy and like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while, either.

“Hey…” Breaking the silence that had somehow settled between them—his voice was a notch softer, still rough but he reached out, grabbing the demon’s shoulder before he could flit away without a word. Sincere brown stared worriedly into flat crimson, as he leaned a bit closer to eye-level. “…is everything cool? Shit, man… we didn’t know what happened.” The brunet shook his head, clapping the fire demon on the shoulder, once or twice—yes, Hiei was there. Definitely. Leaning back and straightening to a slouch, the teen ran the hand back through his slicked hair with an expelled sigh—it had been a while, the product was wearing out, and his bangs were in his face. Annoying. But…

“Geez, Hiei… I knew you didn’t like us… but we coulda used some warning, y’know?” His lips quirked up in a mockery of his usual teasing smile—steady brown eyes were far too serious for the jab to be a sincere attempt at causing trouble. Six months. Six months of watching Kurama drift further and further away, call them less, drop by less… Six months of watching Kurama isolate himself from everything having to do with Reikai and the Tantei. Six months of nagging, back-of-the-mind worry over two very important members of his team. With Hiei not in contact, Yuusuke hadn’t thought he’d be dead… but it always was rather unsettling when someone just up and disappeared, without a word and with no correspondence. He’d thought of a lot of things to say to Hiei, perfect wordings and everything to tell him just how his absence had affected the slender redhead, and Yukina—how it had affected all of them… but…

With Hiei standing there before him, unreadable as he had never been before, and looking haggard—even if it was just in lines of stress, the tightened muscles around his mouth or the set line of his jaw—… Something was definitely wrong, and all his meticulous mental rehearsing on the train up here now seemed pointless.

“Hey… “ He moved, suddenly wanting some response out of his friend—it was too unlike Hiei not to react, not to have some snarky retort that crushed all opponents as well as a pin popping a balloon. “Did anything—?”

“Yukina.” The word was simple, direct, and clipped. Yuusuke blinked, then slowly lofted a brow.

“…yeah? She find you, or something? ‘baasan said she left, a while back… searching for her brother, again, and all.” He eyed the Jaganshi, quirking that brow a notch higher. “…You can be a pretty stubborn bastard once you’ve made up your mind, you know.”

Although I guess he has his reasons…

He could relate, after all. He hadn’t wanted to tell Keiko about his job as a Reikai Tantei, wanted to keep her unknowing and safe…

Yeah, and that blew up in my face like putting that can of tuna in the microwave.

With all the flames, and… yeah. That’d been bad. (Atsuko’s newest boyfriend hadn’t been happy about her six-year-old son setting off the fire alarm and ruining the interior of his microwave—along with the smoke billowing out of the appliance, which could be seen from a mile away. Ah, and the flames. Can’t forget the flames…)

…Argh. Hiei’d gone silent, again. And, with that face—perhaps he was considering…

“You know… if you’re going to kill me for ‘meddling in your affairs’—“ He began in a flat tone, face deadpan—“—or ‘questioning your intentions’, I’d prefer it be through the head.” He tapped the bridge of his nose, to that effect. “Instant loss of consciousness, and all.” Was that a slight twitch of lips to a smirk? Yuusuke grinned in response to the barely-noticeable response, and let his hand fall from his face.

“…right. So, we looking for her, or what?” The brunet turned, shoving his hands into his pockets and beginning to sidle off in some random direction, fully expecting Hiei to follow after him. Yuusuke didn’t think his friend would run, now—the guy needed help.

“Hn.” The tantei paused, mid-step, casting a curious glance back towards his companion—and reacting as though he hadn’t heard the snort, at all.

“Hey… shouldn’t you be able to find her with your Jagan? That’s why you got it, right?” Predictably, his second comment was ignored. He noted that red gaze falling to his wrist. He followed it, only half-surprised when their joint stares fell on the watch strapped to it.

“You’re here to try to take me back.” Of the few words Hiei’d spoken, this statement was by far the quietest, most challenging and most deadly. Yuusuke waved it off like a duck repels water—quite literally.

“Doesn’t matter. If Yukina’s missing, we have to find her. Kuwabara’d never forgive me if I just left it up to you.” He grinned again, then, oozing irrepressible, rakish charm. “You can come back with me after we find her and listen to Koenma’s bitching about your disappearance. That’ll be my charge for helping.” With a deft movement, he clicked open the small compartment in the youki-detecting watch, and upended it to rid the small space of the lock of Hiei’s hair resting within. He palmed a hand towards the silent fire youkai, then.

“Now, ‘niisan—” The inflection of that word was only half-mocking, fingers of that hand making a grabby motion towards their own palm. “—hand over that lock of hair, or teargem, or whatever you’ve been keeping of hers and let’s find your imouto.”

: : :

“Youko-san, Youko-san!” The frantic voice of a child he knew woke him, and he groggily sat up, running a long-fingered hand through platinum locks. It was abruptly seized upon by one of the youth’s hands, pulling at him, trying to drag him up.

“Mnnn, what is it? Can’t you see I’m—“

“Youko-san! They’re burning the forest!” The kid’s plaintive cry woke him in an instant, and saffron glowed molten death as he raced out of his home, gazing up at the sky—it was clouded with smoke.

Fire. The hateful word he’d learned from the village children tasted just as acrid on his tongue as the smell of dying trees did. The forest was silent, the plants were sleepy from the smoke and not screaming, and those on the outer edges must have already been burned. Burned, and killed too fast for them to realize what was happening, and warn the others…

A tug on his robe brought his gaze down, spying the tear-stricken face of the youngest boy in his current group of followers.

“They’re burning them down!” He wailed, hugging the tall, lanky, teenage fox around the waist. “They’re burning down all your trees, Youko-san!” The fox pushed the throb of anger from his mind, and gathered up the boy, staring grimly at the sparks framing an eerily-glowing halo into the dark night sky, not-so-far-off, in the distance.

Anger. His claws tightened, digging into the tender flesh of the youth’s skin and causing a soft cry of pain to work itself from the boy’s lips. His ears twitched—listening, listening. No sounds. The trees were silent. Asleep, or dead. The animals were gone.

How he could not have noticed them leaving?

He turned, swiftly disappearing from the doorway of the home he had occupied for what felt like countless years(nearly a century, most of it his childhood), disappearing between the trees as a ghostly, silvery figure into the night.

~*~To Be Continued~*~