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 Twelve: Threat
Word Count: 7,265
[Total Word Count: 80,985]
[Total AFF Hit Count: 980]
[The AFF version of this fanfic reached 1000 hits on Friday, December 25, 2009~!]
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai
Author: Kita Kitsune
Date: Monday(moon-day!), October 26, 2009
Miscellaneous Notes(Sunday, October 18, 2009): Aaaaaaaaand, we have plot movement~! xD

More Notes(Sunday, November 22, 2009): Aaaaand, the chapter’s finished. Hurrah, hurrah~! Now I just need to write the next one and I’ll be able to post this by Christmas, for you guys! :3

Even More Notes(Sunday, December 6, 2009): Tweaked a little due to Sekah-san’s comments. :3 …Ah, also! I started this fanfic a year ago, and now it’s up to twelve chapters(first chapter posted on Monday, December 8, 2008)~! That makes me happy. Maybe I’ll slow down to mere monthly updates, after this. But oh, so happy. Twelve chapters for twelve months(I luff the number twelve, too)~! x3

Yet More Notes(Thursday, December 24, 2009): Aaaaaaaand, Chapter Thirteen’s not done, but almost, so I decided to make sure I posted this when I said I would. :3 Hope you all enjoy this new chapter. I’ve found time to write again(just a little, but I hope to get a lot done before the end of the holidays! I’m trying to write every night, but I’m still burning DVD(movies) for people and wrapping presents, so that might not happen, tonight...). Hopefully the writing’s gotten better, thanks to Sekah-san’s constructive criticism(watch for the lack of ellipses~! I edited most of them out, I think!), although I’m still a little leery on some things(like the Yukina scenes)… x.x~

Saa! At any rate, Merry Christmas, everyone! Happy Holidays!

Happy New Year 2010! It’s a shiny, brand-new decade(for YYH)~! x3

: : : : : : :

”It was stupid of you to go that far.” The words that greeted him were flat, and echoing out in a low, irate baritone from where their bearer sat, cross-legged on one of the twin beds in their hotel room. Garnet eyes were narrowed, watching him with something almost akin to anger as the kitsune quietly closed the door behind him. The left sleeve of his tunic was all-but-dangling from spare torn pieces of fabric off of most of his shoulder and arm. The long, ugly gash that had housed a deadly vetch sprout was unseen beneath a heavy padding of gauze held on with medical tape. Thankfully, there were no vines coiling out of the wound from behind the bandage.

“Oh… ? Was it? I wasn’t aware I had a choice in the matter…” That tone was light, almost nonchalant as the redhead strode to his dresser, slowly undoing the hidden clasps down his front as he went. When this was finished, he made to untie the purple sash around his middle. He paid no mind to the red gaze that followed his every movement with intense scrutiny—Hiei wasn’t known for his social prowess, perhaps the Jaganshi didn’t know quite how rude it was to stare as someone undressed.

Not to mention, Kurama would be a fool to provide the spark to induce the moody demon’s explosive temper to combustion, over such a small thing. Also, apparently he was peeved about their matches, today. It was no surprise, really—he had unresolved energy, as of the two fights the team had had, that day, Hiei’d fought in neither. No doubt that ate at his pride… This in mind, the fox turned his head with a slightly wearied smile, shrugging off the remaining shoulder of his tunic at last and letting the garment pool around his feet, just below the cuffs of the pants that yet hung from his waist.

“Ne, don’t let it bother you, too much. It all came out right in the end, after all.” It was as cheerful as he could manage, after such a tiring day. Ichigaki’s machine, as well as two hard-won fights in a row… and some bruises he’d sustained from that last match he couldn’t recall—those events(all in a row, nonetheless) did not really seek to increase his energy.

“Although, it is a shame…” He stifled a sigh, sparing a wistful glance down towards the puddle of white silk rimmed in navy and gold(and littered with rips, black blood-paint, dirt and his own red bloodstains), on the carpet below. “This was one of my more comfortable outfits…”

“Baka! You almost died, and you’re worried about a piece of clothing?!” Abruptly the Jaganshi was on his feet, hands clenched to fists at his sides as his teeth ground together, scarlet oculars thinned to a yet-more-severe glare. Slightly surprised at the vehemence of the reaction—but used to it, to some extent—the youko blinked, then offered a cool smile in his room mate’s direction. He was not Hiei’s property—not anymore, and they certainly hadn’t been intimate for all the days they’d shared this room since they arrived at the Tournament(and not for quite a while, before then).

Hiei could not be allowed to think he could guilt Kurama into feeling guilty for making him worry.

If Hiei wished to be angry in order to deal with his anxiety, then that was his choice, but—

They were not lovers, and as such Kurama only had the responsibility of a friend to attend to.

Which meant: Be civil and without intent to injure, but not overly accommodating.

“Forgive me for attempting to lighten the situation with insignificant details, Hiei. I shall endeavor to refrain from making that mistake in the future. Please, if you would excuse me for a bit.” Tugging a shirt and a pair of boxers free of his meager supply of clothes for this ‘trip’, the fox turned briskly, striding into the bathroom for a quick shower. Naturally, he would take great care not to get the bandages on his left arm wet, but the rest of him felt as though it was overdue for a good scrubbing. That sentiment was likely due to all the blood he’d spilled, the sweat from his acrobatics against Touya(while his limbs were weighted down, nonetheless) and then Gama’s dyed markings yet lingering on his skin(even though their power had faded, hours ago), no doubt—

Hiei and he were not ‘in love’.

They hadn’t been, for a long time.

(Or… at least that’s what he reminded himself of, at times like this.)

: : :

~Present Time(The Next Day)~

Sunlight. The sounds of birds.

He pressed his palm to his forehead, fingers shielding his yet-closed eyes from the unforgiving signs of morning. There was the scent of his mother’s coffee percolating downstairs, too, if he strained for it.

With a sigh, he shifted slowly upward, free hand palming the mattress behind him for support as his back gradually moved perpendicular to the bed beneath. Rubbing that hand over his face, slender fingers at last combed back through the bright scarlet strands as he leaned his head back, aiming a wan smile towards the ceiling overhead.

Again, with these dreams—

That last one had been a memory. An old memory, by now—over half a year ago, while they were still caught in the deadly matches of the Ankoku Buujutsukai.

If only they would cease.

It would making moving on so much easier…

: : :

“This locater’s a piece of shit! Now it’s telling us to go towards the beach!” The brunet yelled over the sound of the rushing wind and crackling twigs beneath, trying almost in vain to find a dark smear in the treetops to his side. What the hell is—

A loud buzzing interrupted the rest of his train of thought, and he whipped out the compact while still moving(dodging around a tree), flipping open the screen to see Botan’s worried face.

“Yuusuke! Have you found Hiei yet?! We’ve got a situation, here—!” He elbowed a branch out of the way of his face, there.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got one here, too! Yukina’s missing!” The grim reaper gasped, horrified. The teen leapt high, clearing a fallen log strewn across his path, his shoes crunching into the snow as he landed and continued to run.

“Yukina-cha…?! Then you’ve found Hiei?! Put him on! Koenma-sama needs him to—” Duck under those low-hanging vines! Hiei’d sneer at him about it for days if he ended up half-strangling himself on some stupid plants.

Here Yuusuke stopped(as did Hiei’s shadow, unnoticeably and a good ways ahead), blinking belatedly at the realization that that particular train of thought had jogged.

Oh, yeah. Kurama.

—Well, I’m sure Kuwabara’s got it covered.

He nodded to himself, and, mistakenly, the shinigami took it as a sign he was listening.

Botan would be less concerned about Hiei if Kurama were in real trouble, anyway.

It was around this point that he noticed the ferry girl was babbling about something-or-other(of which he had no clue). Reikai’s head tantei beamed smartly at the screen, using his irrepressible bad-boy charm and interrupting her boldly, loudly—and without regret(as per the usual).

“We’re in no mood for toddler-breath’s bitching, Botan! We might have a lead! Call us back when you’ve either got some hard facts on Yukina’s whereabouts or aren’t wasting our time!” He grinned at the gaping, growing-furious face of the blue-haired ferry girl, flashing the tiny screen the V-sign.

“Mata neee~!” Her last words were choked off by the succinct snapping shut of the compact.

“Chotto, Yuusu—!”

: : :

~Several Hours Later~

Packing down the dirt around the sides of each plant he had watered, he spared them all a glance and a smile, nodding his head, politely. They waved at him in return, some entreating that he stay, reaching out for him like children. He indulged them, a moment, brushing fingertips in a soothing caress, speaking in hushed tones to them in the language he had learned from their kind, so very long ago.

The first language he had truly ever ‘spoken’. It was as good as being his ‘native tongue’—

“Now, now… you know I shall return, tomorrow. No need to fret.”

But, Our Youko—we sense something… His brow knit, softly.

“Oh…?” The plants rustled at him, as good as a nod in any human conversation. They were uneasy, that much was apparent. Vines tugged at his sleeves, roots brushing the cuffs of his pants in worry.

Yes! A dark one comes… A dark one comes, he has already marked you…

He continued to pet his dear plants, sending out a soft pulse of youki to try and calm them.

“My friends… I thank you for your worry, and for sharing. I shall take your warning to heart, and be careful…” It was the only way they’d let him leave. He believed they would sense this—plants always seemed to read between his words, so well—but they fell silent a moment, various types of budding blossoms still tugging gently at his clothing.

Do not hesitate to call upon us for aid, Our Youko. He smiled, to this final response. They understood him so well, and did not seek to bind his actions with their worries. Nodding gently, he tenderly curled a few fingers around a nearby vine, to press a leaf of that wayward plant to his lips, in solemn promise.

“I never do, my friends. Thank you. I shall return, tomorrow…” With that, the florae retreated, pulling back into the depths of the greenhouse as though nothing had ever shifted. An affectionate smile touching his lips, he offered a last small nod towards the general center of the room, before exiting and closing the door behind him. Ever the caretaker, he diligently locked the old door with the key lent to him by the office for this particular task, before glancing down at his water-, sweat- and humidity-stricken shirt with another sigh.

: : :

“It’s that bad, huh?” The fushcia-eyed shinigami nodded emphatically, ponytail and forelocks bouncing about with the motion, the view he got of it only limited to the small, circular screen resting in his palm.

“Yes! Kuwa-chan, you’ve got to watch out for Kurama—I don’t know what Koenma-sama’s thinking, but he’s definitely in danger! Something about a stalker, I think…” The carrot-top snorted.

“C’mon, it’s Kurama. I’m sure he’s dealt with a few stalkers in his day—” Botan flailed at him.

“No, no, this time it’s different! Please, can’t you go check on him, Yuusuke found Hiei but Yukina-chan’s gone missing, and—!”

“YUKINA-SAN IS MISSING?!” He bellowed into the compact, abruptly grabbing either side of the screen with large fingers, leaning so close his nose nearly smudged the glass. (As it was, each exhale through his nostrils fogged it.) “’baasan said she was looking for her brother!” The blue-haired ferry girl tittered nervously, adopting her cat face and pawing in the direction of the compact’s screen. She’d clearly not meant to slip that little bit of information to him.

“Ehehehehe… ano…—iya, well… I called Yuusuke, but he and Hiei are too busy looking for her in Hokkaido, so—”

“Go on, Kazu.” He jumped, snapping his head around to stare at his sister eying him from the newly-opened doorway, one cultured hand still resting on the knob. She slowly strode forward into his room, mostly ignoring the fact her brother was neglecting his studies in light of the call that’d come in.

“EH?! Ane—” She neatly plucked the ‘mirror’ from his hand, aiming a calm smile towards the frazzled grim reaper on the other end.

“Botan-chan, I’ll check on Kurama-kun. You can’t really expect Kazu to ignore his ‘true love being in dire peril’, can you?” She cast a deadpanned glance over her shoulder at the end of that phrase, for a moment. He laughed nervously at the look, the way he rubbed the back of his head not quite unseen in the background. “Besides, Kazu’s right. Kurama-kun’s good at taking care of himself.” She smiled, eyes half-mooning to disarm the ferry girl’s next comment. “Maa, maa, I’ll drop by to see him, today. Don’t worry.” She clicked the compact shut, deposited it back in her brother’s hand, and smoothly passed him all in a few graceful, unbroken strides.

“How much do you need, this time, hm? I’m not giving you a million, so you’ll have to settle for the special express. Next one leaves in an hour. I’d hurry, if I were you.” He rushed past her in a blur, snagging the yen bills she held aloft. There were the sounds of someone fumbling with their shoes in the genkan, then the echoed cry just before the front door slammed shut.

“Thanks, Ane!”

‘ttaku.

Her little brother and his friends certainly were a bother, at times. Nonetheless, as she sighed to herself she went to the closet to grab her coat. Kurama-kun’s school was two stops down, after all. Checking her watch, she tapped the face of it, then checked again. Mm. They’d let out a little while ago.

Well, if he wasn’t there she could simply stop by his house.

: : :

~One Week Earlier~

She couldn’t stand. One of her ankles was bent at a strange angle, bruised and beaten skin of one pale calf visible under one of the rips in the long red skirt that now sprawled messily over her lower body. The ice maiden propped herself up on shaky hands, red eyes peering out from under a veil of bloodied sea-green, focusing on the tall, imposing man standing in the doorway to her escape. Her voice was trembling, soft but with an underlying firmness that one might not have supposed existed in the frail-seeming demoness.

“W-Why are you doing this… ?” Teeth glinted in a grin—she couldn’t see his face clearly, only the shadows of white giving a hint to the expression.

“Because… Yukina—” he took a few steps closer and she stiffened, trying to scoot back, her mostly-ruined skirt dragging on the harsh stone of the cave beneath her. Her captor paid this no mind, merely reached down—his fingers seeming like sharp noodles!—and cupped her chin with those supernatural digits, leering at her with a low cackle. “Your brother and his friends caused my brother to betray me.” He crooned at her, lightly shaking her head from side to side with the hold he had on her chin. She flinched, shoulders shaking the tiniest bit as she tried to call her youki, tried to summon it instinctively to get the man away from her, a hand rising to try and push his away, however feeble it might be, she had to try, had to—

“S-Sto—” His cool tone interrupted her, though, and she felt her breath catch as those deceptively-gentle, longish fingers coiled around her neck.

“Tut, tut. Now, you shouldn’t do that…” They tightened, and she choked, her raised hand then lifting to tug desperately at the digits, the focus she needed to gather her ki slipping away even as she tried to fight through the pain. Memories, fogged and isolated, floated through her mind…

“I’ve heard this kind of ward can burn the skin right off an ice apparition… let’s try it out, shall we~?”

“No—don’t! Please, sto—”

At Tarukane’s stronghold… had it already been so long—?

“You know—you won’t be here, forever, Yukina. …I have a sister about your age.”

“Now’s our chance! Tarukane’s left the country on a business trip!”

“But… won’t it be dangerous, for you?”

“Can’t you think about yourself for once?!”

The sound of gunshots ended their botched attempt at escape. Then, the sight of the young man, so kind to her, lying in a bloody heap on the carpet—never to return to his family, never to return to his own sister, because of her…

“Don’t bother. We’ve tried filling that girl up with every amount of physical pain imaginable. She just sits there, staring at the wall.”

“No! Fly away! It isn’t safe!”

“Brother.”

“No! Let them go! Please… please—!”

Those… the innocent little birds, who’d given her a small shred of hope she might one day escape—so cruelly killed by the man who… the man with the… long fingers, and the predator’s eyes—

“I am the all mighty Kuwabara Kazuma-sama! We’re here to save you, Yukina!”

”No! You mustn’t come! Run away! You’ll be killed!”

Had she already forgotten how to steel her heart against her own injury and suffering?

No one can ever come near me, again…

The fingers loosened, and she gasped in a breath, half-collapsing on the cold, smooth floor of the cave as her own hand rested against her throat. Coughs racked her body as she tried to regain the oxygen she’d lost in those few minutes he’d cut off her air, and tried to fight off the sharp thread of realization thrumming abruptly through her.

It… it-it can’t be… that man…

Hadn’t… hadn’t Kazuma-san fought him, in the Dark Tournament? Then, hadn’t he—hadn’t he been killed by his younger brother as well? It couldn’t be the same man who—

“Do you remember me, now, Yukina?” The whisper was soft in her ears, and she jerked her head up, fear from memory seeping into her gaze as tears lingered at the edges from the recollection of how he had… The big man, she’d seen again, during the Tournament, but this man…

She had a feeling she would always be afraid of him. His eyes… they spoke of only carnal greed, fathomless depths of torture and sadism drowning his soul in darkness—

“Y-You… “

“Hmmm~ You underestimate me, little ice apparition.” He grinned at her, canting his head, then—and it was almost as though the madness was shining through the human’s dulled eyes. Was it—was it a possession?! What had happened to the human soul in that body—?? Mildly distracted by her thoughts, she didn’t quite notice he’d stepped closer to her until he pulled her up by the collar of the soiled, dark turtleneck she wore, smirking eerily into her face.

“I’ve missed you, you know. You were so easy to break… Tell me.” He cooed, shaking her almost gently. “Have you thought about my brother and I, since then? How we almost killed those two human boys—twice~? They, old Genkai, the fox and your brother would have never become involved with us if it wasn’t for you. Your little bitch-friends wouldn’t have been dragged to such a dangerous place. Haven’t you remembered that everyone’s better off if they don’t come near you? Even your mother~” Her eyes had grown wider with each ensuing statement—it was as though… he was reading her mind! But… but that was impossible! He had to only be guessing, she had to—the koorime shook her head, bringing her hands up and imparting a bit of ice ki into them, trying to freeze his arm so she could—

“N-No! That’s not—”

“Oh, how cruel~!” He sneered, maneuvering his arms so her hands became jostled, dispelling her focus as he flung her up into the air—fingers wrapped around her wrists and she cried out as she was thrown to the floor, feeling a few ribs break with the impact as a small spatter of blood speckled out onto her lips. She tried to crawl away, tried to—she collapsed onto her front as he set a foot on her back, grinding the heel of his boot into her spine.

“You should know you can’t run away, Yukina.” High-pitched laughter resounded in the small, dirty space—her prison—echoing even as it began to recede. “Until next time~!”

Left alone in darkness, as the crackling of wards told her there was a kekkai up around the entrance, once more… She curled into herself, focusing her ki to a small sphere of ice-blue energy, doing the best she could to heal the worst of her own injuries.

Shuddering softly, she bit her lip through the pain, not allowing distraction to hamper her actions.

Hiei-san… you would not be brought down by this alone, would you?

You would live, you would not despair.

You are my brother, and you are strong.

She bowed her head, a moment, breathing in a careful breath as the pain began to lessen. She was sure not to use too much energy—likely there would be incidents in the future, she had best only do enough to keep herself alive.

After all, Hiei-san had—he had stayed alive, even after falling all the way from Hyouga.

She was his sister… she could not shame him by giving up so easily.

Even before she had known Hiei-san was her brother(during her time held at Tarukane’s mansion), she had believed this.

She had known her brother was alive, and for her to die—to give up—so easily would insult his very existence.

I will live to see you again, ‘niisan.

A slight smile quirked her lips at the thought, and she slowly pulled herself over to the corner where her dark blue cape was resting, mostly untouched, in a pile against the wall. She wrapped it around herself—more for comfort than actual warmth—and curled up beneath it, fingers rummaging around the neck of her turtleneck until she pulled the hiruiseki free from beneath it. The small, glimmering object disappeared almost as suddenly as it appeared, its brilliance obscured by flesh. Cool, familiar youki pulsed against her skin where she held it tightly in her hand. Slowly, the koorime allowed her eyes to fall shut, allowing healing exhaustion to topple her into dreams, that faint curve remaining tentatively on her lips.

And then… we can sit in Genkai-shihan’s temple, and—share a pot of tea.

: : :

His fingers were twitching. They itched to bury themselves into that mist-user’s throat, no pretense of elegance or bothering to form his ki into his precious bombs. The ninja would die, for so daring to sully his fox’s body with his gutless hands…

Fists clenched in their pockets, nails scraping against supple flesh as he watched with supernatural intensity as the brat-leader of the team gently hoisted the unconscious redhead into his arms, toting him off to rest at the side of the ring. With a rustle of fine silk, the youkai turned, stewing silently as he withdrew, the shadows clinging to his form in the darkness.

He cared not for their names, as their faces were burned into his mind.

The rest of the Urameshi Team’s fights did not interest him, now—Kurama would no longer be fighting, today, in the state he was in. Layers of enamel ground against each other, the sound echoed and tinny to his ears, due to the sculpted metal covering a better part of his face.

The first disgusting blood-paint ninja had earned his death, and to be fair, the ice demon had not actually perpetrated the sin of touching his fox, and so—he was more forgiving in his mind, to that one. Besides, that open slash on the kitsune’s arm was beautiful in and of itself, and the spray of blood splattering in crimson waves around the youko had been breathtaking to behold. A sigh graced the innards of his mask. It had been lovely to watch Kurama dodging so artfully, as well—there was no mistake, he’d easily caught onto the kitsune’s plan the first time he went down under the brunt of the ice-master’s shard attack. That redhead was tricky. Surely, they would find a way to pull themselves away from losing this match, and advance onto the semi-finals.

In the meantime, he could find a way to amuse himself with that crude, muscular oaf.

So many well-developed muscles promised good blood circulation…

Not that they would save the shinobi from his vengeance, in the end.

: : :

~Present Time~

They strode, side-by-side, a heavy silence resting between them. The taller teen cleared his throat, casting a nervous glance towards the redhead from under a sheen of inky-black bangs.

“Kurama, about yesterday—”

“Please, Kanisawa-san. I warned you, did I not?” The youth blinked at him, and the kitsune-in-human guise had to fight the urge to sigh, recalling just how young his companion was. It was like talking to Yuusuke or Kuwabara-kun, in a way.

“I warned you… that I am not completely—‘over’ someone, yes? That it would be unfair of me to—” He was halted mid-sentence, by a pair of fingers on his lips and a teasing, mysterious stare that twinkled at him in amusement.

“Kurama. I told you, I don’t care about all that.” The boy waved a hand, long digits brushing gracefully against the air before they came to rest on the redhead’s cheek. The other fingers slipped, cupping a cheek as well, and the slightly-taller youth leaned in, a corner of his mouth quirked in an amused smile as he noted the furrowing of the green-eyed boy’s brow just a centimeter or so below. “I just care about you…” It was a close murmur, and even as Kurama felt warmth rush to his face, he cast a glance away, dutifully ignoring their close proximity, even though he could hear the thrum of Kanisawa’s heartbeat, now, with how close the human’s wrists were, to his ears.

“Still, I…” That responding mutter held far too little conviction in it for his tastes, but the ebony-haired teen didn’t seem to mind, fingertips dodging the kitsune’s forelocks and sliding back, pressing their pads against his scalp in an idle massage. Jade optics fell half-shut in absent relaxation, feeling strands shift in lazy fluidity around deft fingers. It was—

“So beautiful…” The admiring whisper was nearly inaudible, but it jarred Kurama enough to bring him back to reality—and he abruptly straightened(when had he slouched, like that, anyway?), hands coming up to circle around the other’s wrists and draw them downward to the teens’ mutual sides, pushing the heavy scarlet bangs framing his forehead against the other’s chin to discourage any further acts of public affection as he glanced down.

“Kanisawa-san—we’re in the middle of the street…” A low chuckle found that, and he opened his mouth to protest once more—only to be confronted with a quick, brief peck of a kiss upon slightly-parted lips that widened his eyes in surprise. Squinting emerald gazed up at(what was he—a ‘boyfriend’, now?) the other teen with a scolding flare, given only a moment’s glance of a sly gaze before he was released, and slender fingers had somehow ensnared his own, pulling him along with an offhanded comment.

“Ah, you’re right, Kurama. Perhaps we should hurry—so your ‘kaasan might meet me, yes~?” The redhead flushed softly at the presumption found in the statement, stumbling after the taller teen with the first few steps before he caught up to him, hissing softly under his breath.

“Kanisawa-san! You—when I told you that, I didn’t mean—” He broke off, blinking suddenly and casting his gaze towards their joined hands in muted horror. This was Japan! Hand-holding was not—it wasn’t quite… acceptable, in most social circles. People knew him, people would talk and question his upbringing—question his mother’s value. Humans always tended to be so prudish when it came to things like this… Discreetly, the youko tried to worm his way out of the grip before perceptive russet eyes were on him, again, slender fingers pausing before they tightened that hold, slightly.

“…Kurama?” Feeling unnaturally scalded at being caught, the kitsune turned his gaze down to the side as he answered.

“Ah, no, I’m sorry, it’s just that—” Pointedly, he glanced towards their joined hands, before flicking his gaze up towards the other boy, optics narrowing slightly. “It’s a… bit rude, don’t you think? To be doing this in public…”

“Hmm, perhaps… I suppose it is quite a shame, then—” Kanisawa’s tone seemed thoughtful, at least—Kurama relaxed, but then let forth a small cry of surprise as he was tugged forward once more, laughter not quite escaping the other but tinting his tone richly, well enough. “—that I do not particularly care~”

“Kanisawa-sa—!” It was an exasperated exclamation, and he tried to bite back the smile that threatened to curl over his lips at the rebellious response of his companion.

They walked on, for a ways, in silence. However, this silence was much more preferable to the one before—there was no heavy anxiety, and(while Kurama did yet wholeheartedly believe this brief indulgence of his in a relationship with a human would all end miserably, one way or another) the redhead allowed himself to relax, just a bit. He was idly comforted by the warmth of the hand clasping his own—as taboo as it might have seemed(to a properly-raised Japanese citizen—but then, demonic social habits were hard to break), the truth was, it didn’t bother him so much. Absently casting his gaze towards the joined hands, a few soft words broke the silence after a couple of minutes.

“Kanisawa-san… I thought you came by Meiou to pick up your cousin, yes? Recently, has she—” He was interrupted by a quiet, curt comment that caused him to blink, mildly startled at the tone.

“She has taken to spending time with her friends, after school. As it is, we have enough drivers to spare one in the afternoon for her.” The low, oddly unfriendly answer gave him another moment’s pause.

“Ah…” He had another question to ask—as to why, when the youth had introduced himself, that night… why had Kanisawa not told him his first name? Surely, it would be better to introduce Kanisawa-san to his mother with both names intact, and if they were to be… ‘dating’, would it not be better to be on a first-name basis? Mind jolting with a sudden halting realization, an inner panic beginning to rise—

“Oh—Kanisawa-san, could you please remember to call me Suuichi, when we—”

“Of course, Kurama. I would not so easily forget your need for secrecy.” There was a glance that followed that comment, shrewd and sharply observing. Dark. Brown that was nearly black. It almost set him faintly on-edge, whenever that particular intense look fell into his companion’s eyes—there was something there, that was familiar. It was a half-memory that tugged at his mind, and the youko’s old instincts whispered of danger. If he had had his tail, it would be bristling in inexplicable nervousness. Thankfully, his human form did not give away such emotion so easily. So, for the moment, the kitsune merely offered a smile in the face of those steely auburn hues, allowing his companion’s hand to keep its hold on him as they continued to walk on.

“…Yes. Thank you.”

: : :

No one ever asked what happened to Bakken and Risho of the clan of shinobi who had dared show themselves in the light of the Dark Tournament. Not Touya, not Jin—that pair of youkai being the ones who left the clan after their public match. Perhaps, in retrospect, it had been the right decision…

After all, it was only the next morning that the battered, bloodied corpses of the two remaining team members were found in their equally shredded beds by the maid. Naturally, working at the Kubikukuri Hotel required certain temperaments in the employees—she simply called security, and stepped aside to let them gather and dispose of the corpses before she set about cleaning the room. No one bothered to let the information leak. Losers were no one’s concern, at the Ankoku Buujutsukai.

In fact, it was ‘officially’ expected that the losers of any match were well overdue for death, at that point. In Makai it was the common rule of ‘the strongest live, the weakest die’, and this tournament was really no different.

Unless, of course, the losers were strong enough to fight off any attempts on their life after their ‘official’ loss.

: : :

~Present Time~

The brunette smiled cordially as the door opened in front of her, revealing her face to the woman on the other side.

“Shizuru-san!” The younger woman bowed her head, slightly, showing the proper level of deference to her senior.

“Minamino-san. It’s been a while, ne?” The elder’s face brightened, and she opened the door further, ushering her guest inside.

“It certainly has! You’re here for Suu-kun, yes? He’s not home from school yet, I’m afraid…” Shizuru stepped inside, politely removing her shoes and slipping into the house ones provided, shuffling after the dark-haired woman as she bustled about, motherly waving at her to get comfortable. “Please, sit, sit! It’s been so long… would you like some tea? My, my…”

The older Kuwabara sibling watched with no small amount of fondness as the lady disappeared into, then reappeared from the kitchen with a plate of her infamous cookies. Really… Kurama’s mother was like a mother to all of them. Although they’d drifted apart, in recent months… She blinked, noting the plate held out to her by the smiling, middle-aged woman.

“Ah—thank you, Minamino-san.” She took one, taking a small bite before setting it on the napkin before her. Shiori was practically glowing with happiness to see one of her son’s friends… what had Kurama been up to, these past few months, without them?

“It’s so good to see you, Kuwabara-san…” A soft shake of her head, then. “I was worried… I haven’t seen much of any of you in a while.” She smiled, then, face adopting a very familiar expression as her eyes half-mooned.

So that’s where Kurama gets it…

“I am glad he has such good friends. I’m sure if you stay for a little while, he’ll return—it’s just after his classes let out, and he’s usually home not an hour later.” Shizuru nodded, taking another small bite of her cookie and preparing to engage in painless small-talk with the woman across from her. It wouldn’t do any harm, anyway…

But… something had to be up with Kurama, for Botan to be so adamant about someone ‘checking’ on him.

If it was any indication, though—Shiori seemed fine.

It couldn’t be about her…

: : :

He wandered, after that. To avoid notice—the last thing he wanted was for those idiotic rabbles of dull-witted youkai to bother him more, due to his rare color—he wore a long, dark brown cloak with a hood that obscured his face at all times. He had had his fill of demons and their petty ways. Any who tried to haggle with him lost an arm or an eye, whichever was within easier reach. Any who tried to rob him found themselves on the business-end of a botanical sword which he easily summoned from the smallest bit of greenery around.

They learned to leave him alone, after that.

He would stay in a new place only for a few days, at times amusing himself with the children of the town. They would gather around him in the square, ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing as he produced magnificent wreaths from flowers they brought him. They still never saw his face, but some may have seen the small, sad smile that would tug at his expression when they crowded around him, begging for stories or more flower-wreaths, or whatever struck their fancy. As irritating as the demons were, these children were different. He would entertain them until dusk, when their mothers would rush them away, casting dubious glances towards the mysterious youko.

He paid their suspicion no mind, and merely moved on to the next town.

Decades passed like this, and he soon gained his second tail.

The next town he wandered into appeared to have some appreciation for nature—it truly was a beautiful place, and he could appreciate the resplendent greenery framing the cliff-sides of the valley. A waterfall fell from a high edge on the far side of the cavern, and meadows of various wildflowers were strewn across the outskirts of the town. He continued walking in the direction of the small village, the quiet breaking with the roars and screams of bandits and innocents alike, in the town. A few rushed out, down the path he was taking in, and he absently tripped them with a few vines, neatly side-stepping the fallen as his plants went to town on their flesh, and plucking the bags of gold from where they’d been dropped.

He paid no mind to the bystanders who had gathered on the outskirts of the town, watching in horror as this scene played out. The youko walked past them, depositing the bags—without pausing—in the hands of a few surprised lads as he went on into the town.

A gravelly, croaky voice echoed from behind him—one of the spectators he’d passed, no doubt.

“You. Boy.” Irritated at the way in which he’d been addressed, golden eyes spun around, narrowing upon an elderly goat demon from beneath their hood. In his prime, the youkai might have been tall, but for now he was short and slightly crippled, if the knobbled cane he leaned on was any indication. Slanted pink eyes took him in beneath a bushy white brow, long snow-white hair braided down his back around his horns—of which there were three. Two sprouted from either side of his forehead, curving down by his cheeks, and a third jutted out from the back. It looked as though it had been shorn at the end, though, to prevent being in the way. After this once-over, the young fox snappily replied, having no patience for old geezers who understood nothing.

“What do you want, kuso-jiji? Mercy for your death?” Those pink eyes crinkled at the edges and a throaty rasp of a laugh echoed out—but it wasn’t to last long. A bunch of youngsters—ranging in age from almost-toddlers to near-adults—gathered around the old man, the oldest one bristling angrily and raising his fists.

“How dare you talk to Dura-shihan that way! You are an outsider! You know nothing of his greatness!” The fox had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. How wonderful—a master with his devoted disciples. The youko snorted, turning away from them and striding along down the main road of the town, once more. He half-missed the soft command, but all-too-easily heard the hasty footsteps coming down behind him. Turning to pin the rambunctious youth with a glare—his hood fluttering down around his shoulders, revealing platinum strands and triangular ears—he once more called the seedlings sleeping deep in the ground to burst into life. They germinated and grew, wrapping around the attacking martial-artist-in-training—and effectively immobilizing him.

“Why, you—!” The young youko passed a cool smirk towards the captured youth—the oldest of the small group—and cast an arrogant look towards the master a little ways away, where he stood with his other charges.

“You haven’t trained them very well, have you?” The master merely gazed at him, pink eyes narrowing quietly. The elderly demon began walking towards the fox, and Kurama began to bristle, expecting a fight—but as the youkai passed, all he did was murmur to the air between them.

“You have great potential for power, but no battle stance. Should you be in a fight that requires close-range combat, you will lose. Perhaps more than your life.” Golden eyes widened, and he sputtered in rage, turning around to watch the master continue to walk off.

“What do you—! How dare—!” In his anger, he called for the old-timer’s death—he was seeing red, at being so insulted. The vines swooped up from below, once more—but in the space of a gasp, the elderly master was gone. The youko blinked, then heard the crooning, amazed voices of the children behind him and glanced up, quickly. He managed to throw himself out of the range of the master’s cane just in time, eyes wide as it came back around and he flinched, raising a hand to try to block the strike—

It never came. Slowly, the youko slivered his eyes open, peering upward at the elderly goat demon hovering above him. He hadn’t noticed, but… he was sprawled on his back, prone, in the most vulnerable position possible. The cane was stopped just centimeters from his cheek, on the opposite side of where he’d raised his arm to try and block it. The proud kitsune felt his face flush with shame, and dropped his eyes to the side, acknowledging defeat.

“You are intelligent.” This caused a blink, and he glanced slowly up towards the stoic face of the elderly youkai. A slight smile cracked that stern visage, then. “If a bit rash… but, given your age, that is to be expected.” The cane was withdrawn, and the youko slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, eying the demon above him with mere slivers of dark saffron. The old man extended a hand, smiling slowly down to the suspicious youko. “You are welcome to come stay with us, young fox. I do believe we could teach you a thing or two about relying on yourself more than your plants.”

Centuries and a literal lifetime later, caught in the ring with a psychotic crow who had battered his youki down to where his precious plants only shattered like glass in the wind—

Kurama would be thankful for those lessons.

: : :

~Present Time~

“Botan!” Her boss shrieked at her from the tiny compact mirror, and she sweatdropped.

“Ko-Koenma-sama…”

“Have you located those files, yet?!?!”

“A-Ahh, no, Koenma-sama, we’re still working on it…” He yelled something strangled into the screen about it taking far too long—and then it went blank and buzzed. She sweatdropped, again. Shaking her head, the blue-haired shinigami turned around, smiling at the horde of oni she’d procured to help with her work. They were busily scanning the shelves on tall, mobile ladders, typing on computers or doing various other productive things. At last, one near the end and at the top yelled that he’d found it, and she materialized her oar out of nowhere, whisking towards the ogre and snatching it from his outstretched green hand. She flipped it open, pink eyes scanning the label at the inside top to ensure it was the right document. Then, she nodded, aiming a sunny beam towards the oni before whizzing back down the way she’d come.

“Thanks, Enshiro!” She flew out the large wooden doors, towards where Koenma-sama waited in his office with the two ghosts, fingers keeping the important file safe from flying away(or losing any of its contents) by clutching it protectively to her chest.

I’m coming, Koenma-sama!

She didn’t know why, but it was related to Kurama-kun, and… he was such a good person! She hoped she was in time to make a difference—Koenma-sama was right! Every moment counted! This(and the well-being of one of her friends) in mind, she sped up as much as she dared, dodging around tall stacks of innumerable papers in the main room and skillfully avoiding any other flying emissaries she might meet in the air.

Hold on, Kurama-kun!

~*~To Be Continued~*~