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.

Back to using the original summary(for chapter one): In the morning I see you against the dawn. You are stubborn, unyielding, firm. You are the other half of my restless soul. You are... Gone.

Title: Second Try

Chapter Sixteen: Artifice

Word Count: 7,327

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho

Pairing: HieixKurama, KanisawaxKurama

Warning: Angst, language, shounen ai/BL

Author: Kita Kitsune

Date: Sunday(sun-day!), April 17, 2011

Miscellaneous Notes: And… this chapter is finished~ Hopefully I will get this up within the week(preferably after I have the next chapter all written, of course). The more-recently-written parts of this chapter are dedicated to the fans of YYH who attended Tekko 2011 and helped inspire me to get back into the fandom. I name DigitalSaga here on FF(especially for all your supportive and amazing reviews, even if I haven’t responded!), the Hiei I found to cosplay to my Kurama(a friend on AIM and dA—you know who you are) and the friend I talked to Friday night about this fic, who helped me knock down some major roadblocks. Thank them for this update (and hopefully soon there will be many more). :3

More Notes(Tuesday, March 30, 2010): I am such a literary geek, I got sidetracked(FOR DAYS!) deciding what books to list as present on Kurama’s bookshelf. You have no idea how funny that is(especially since I haven’t read any ‘real’ books—barring Harry Potter and class required readings—since I started reading/writing fanfiction…). I highly recommend both of the ones mentioned(go Wiki the titles if you don’t know them, you lazy people… xD), though~!

Yet More Notes(Saturday, April 24, 2010): I can recite all fifty states in twenty-one seconds(on the audio file, I started once I saw it’d recorded one second of silence). xD Damn, you Hetalia fandom. Distracting me from writing~ Also, school. Only the Japanese oral exam and a paper left, now~! :3 This chapter is almost done(seven pages or so), but I’ll likely break parts of it up into future chapters, so…

Even More Notes(Saturday, April 16, 2011): Hello there. :3 Almost a year since I stopped writing for this fic, and here I am, writing for it, again~ Be aware, the first few pages are all stuff I wrote in April 2010, so I apologize for any great style-shift you may notice after them~ x.o;; (It’s fun to be writing for YYH, after so long. I’m so happy I got reinspired to write for this fic, again~ :333 )

: : : : : : :

            The youko met Yomi when the younger demon sought him out, after he had left the ninjas(he had grown bored with them and their set ways after a century or two, and—after he promised never to speak of their sect to anyone—he was let go on rather congenial terms). Yomi’s uncle was the youkai who had brought him from Dura-shihan’s to the temple. Kurama had seen him a few times, visiting his uncle. Back then, the goat youkai was still only a child, with but two small nubs of growing horns that sprouted from either side of his forehead—but he was instantly drawn to Kurama, due to the stories his uncle would tell.

            Kurama had been toying with the idea of seeking fame and fortune around the time Yomi ran into him(the goat demon well into adulthood, by now). The silver youko had gathered a small group of youkai—clothing them all in the same gauzy white clothing he wore, himself—and had a few bases sprinkled all around Makai, in preparation for this new profession. It was at one of these that Yomi was caught. When Kurama returned to that base with his group for a much-needed rest, the plants he had left behind to guard it had a rather bedraggled-looking goat demon trapped in their clutches. He had been ready to decapitate the idiotic demon right there, but Yomi had scrambled out his explanation, admiration shining in his eyes against the youko’s cold look.

            After a considering day or two, Kurama freed the youkai and allowed him entrance. It was from there they truly began to plan heists. And it was from Yomi, that Kurama heard of the numerous unguarded mansions settled around Makai, riches just waiting to be plucked and plundered from their careless owners. And so at first, they stole from abandoned homes, only. As time went on and Youko Kurama’s name became more widespread amidst whispering nobles, however, security began to tighten. Soon these abandoned homes grew boring, and Youko began to stealthily plan to infiltrate the more extravagant, spacious mansions which still had inhabitants. In those days he did not make friends with those of higher rank—those demons deemed ‘royalty’ due to claiming a link to Raizen’s or Mukuro’s bloodlines. Naturally, these demon nobles were too low to actually be of any relation to the two great rulers, but their claims gained them the respect of less-powerful and less-intelligent youkai who pledged to serve them. They began to amass wealth, and grew lazy—until Kurama’s legend began to grow.

            Every now and then, their group would run into a powerful demon and the youko would be forced to step out of the shadows and fight. Some of these he won, some lost, some he scarcely managed to escape. Yomi was not always on missions with him—scarcely anyone was. There were even heists the youko pulled on his own, secret missions that no one knew of until he returned to the base with a priceless treasure tucked into the folds of his white clothing. As time went by, he grew more powerful, and the number of successful heists grew more numerous—and his name became synonymous with thievery.

: : :

~A Few Hours Earlier(than Yuusuke and Hiei’s Present Time)~

            “W-W-What?! Kurama, I—” The kitsune tugged impatiently at the boy’s sleeve, nonetheless unable to keep a sly twitch of amusement from quirking a corner of his lips upward.

            “Kanisawa-san. Hurry and get in the shower, so I can wash your clothes. I can lend you enough for one night until they’re dry again, but if you’re any ruder ‘kaasan might decide to forgo tradition and go first. They may be different bathrooms, but the hot water only lasts for so long, after all—”

            “All right!” It was endearing how the poor boy’s pale skin was flushed the deep magenta of embarrassment, and his hands were waved off as the boy stomped through the door of the Western-style bathroom leading into his room. The door slammed shut, sulkily, and—now alone—Kurama smirked. Human teenagers, really… He had to chuckle when the door flung itself open once more, the sought-for clothes landing in a heap before it as it shut tightly, once again. Shaking his head, the fox walked forward to collect the discarded garments—but then, he perked his ears, hearing muttering just on the other side of the wood. The grin was in his voice as he called, teasingly, to his friend.

            “If you’d like, I could find a clean pair of underwear for you to—”

            “NO!” The voice sounded appalled. The redhead chuckled, fully aware that his guest would hear it, this time.

            “It’d be no trouble, at all, really~” He heard mutterings again, and then the sound of the shower turning on. Hm. That was that, apparently. Expression still lit with a small glow of mirth, he strode outside into the hallway, heading downstairs for the washer. Shiori blinked at him over the mound of the spare futon found in the guest room that weighed down her arms, chin nearly obscured by the fluffy comforter.

            “Suu-kun… ?” He smiled at her, canting his head, slightly.

            “Merely washing Kanisawa-san’s clothes, so he has something to wear when he leaves, tomorrow.” She smiled at him in return, then, and glanced towards the small pile of fabric.

            “Ah… I can do that. Why don’t you take this upstairs and lay it out for him?” He nodded—inwardly agreeing, and not liking the idea of his frail, aging mother ascending the steps with every possibility of tripping(due to the unwieldy futon, of course). The redhead set the garments atop the closed washer, then finagled a bit to take the entire futon from her without dropping anything. He bowed his head, if only slightly and from ingrained habit, towards the brunette before him.

            “Doumo, ‘kaasan.”

            “Ieie, you just take care of your friend, Suu-kun~” The smile was in her voice as he ascended the stairs, once more. Upon entering his bedroom, he found the shower still running—and so set the futon on the floor, going about locating a long shirt and loose pants that the other could use for sleepwear. Upon success, he set them on his desk before taking to hunting about for a spare towel in the linen closet(just outside, in the hallway). Satisfied with both of these finds—and that he had taken a short enough time that Kanisawa-san was still in the shower—he strode to the closed door to his bathroom, knocked lightly and walked inside, voice echoing in cheery warning against the tiles and walls littered with condensation.

            “It’s me, I just thought I’d drop off a towel, for when you’ve finished.” This announcement completed, he set the bundle of terrycloth on the edge of the counter. Kurama strode out, then, closing the door behind him just loudly enough that Kanisawa-san would know he was no longer in the room.

            He set to laying out the futon, next. Always polite(as he’d been raised to be), Kurama fully intended for his guest to take his bed, and he would take to the futon. True to this thought process, once the futon was settled he went about changing the sheets on his bed to fresher ones, for his guest. No sense in making the boy more uncomfortable with the situation, after all.

: : :

            He paused, hearing the door close after a bit of silence from the redhead’s proclamation—but then resumed his washing, allowing his thoughts to split and wander. How had he arrived in this situation, again?

            …No, not that situation. How was I invited here for the night?

            There were times he was worried he wasn’t acting as a proper human teenager should. Should he have accepted so easily? Kurama’s mother had seemed rather adamant… but then, this was Japan. Had he missed an important cultural test by accepting—but, wouldn’t rejecting an offer made by an elder also risk offending them? Ugh… he massaged a temple with a pair of fingers, closing his eyes a moment. It was no use to wonder over it, now. He’d be spending the night, Kurama’d only be a few feet away from him, sleeping, vulnerable—

            The reincarnate slapped a conflicted palm against the water-slickened wall, fingertips curling in frustration against the smooth tile. It certainly was a good thing, yes. He’d be able to siphon more youki out of the fox if he was closer, and thus able to regain his more demonic abilities at a faster rate due to the boost from tonight, alone. Granted, he wouldn’t be able to actually use his youki, but there were other perquisites besides that. There would be time for the rest—and it was a good bit of luck that Kurama hadn’t noticed when he placed the second seal on him, earlier. Now there was only the fourth to attend to, and the crow would be as dangerous as he was before his death.

            The fourth seal, after all, would enable his current body to accept the strange nature of his youki with little ill effect, if all went as planned. The reason he needed Kurama for this was because the youko already did this—balanced youki and reiki within himself with no detrimental consequences. As soon as he started draining parts of Kurama’s ki, the human body he currently inhabited would grow more used to youki being held within it. His soul, being one of youkai descent, naturally had the ability to transform reiki into youki—but, as of yet, he was unable to use it due to his human body’s rejection of the type of youki he had. Kurama’s type was softer, more easily accepted—as well as mixed with reiki, which would make the influx of youki easier on his body. It was a good halfway point—and, as he absorbed the fox’s ki, he would slowly change it into a form his body could use. It would change from a reiki-youki mix to his particular youki signature, instead of the fox’s. Given sufficient time, he could eventually apply the fourth seal to the fox and trigger the release of the built-up youki in his soul that would result from utilizing the second seal. His body would then—hopefully—be able to handle the release without destroying itself from the inside-out, and after that he would be closer to the demon he was, before. He would be unstoppable, with his human body’s reiki to use to heal himself(something he could never do before, as his youki was of the explosive, destructive sort) and the familiar Quest Class type of energy he knew so well.

            He frowned. It didn’t bring him the elation he’d had, when he first began planning all this. Could that mean something? Was seeing the kitsune so often making him hesitant to change the status quo? Weakening his resolve with temptation? After all—as things stood now, he could kiss the fox whenever he cared, see him, touch him without fear of reprisal. Who’s to say that this couldn’t be the second chance they hadn’t had the fortune to have in their first meeting, at the Tournament?

            …No. No. That was fool’s talk. Had living in the Ningenkai really made him so soft? He snorted, turning off the stream of water with the quick twist of a wrist. The brunet stepped out from behind the curtain, jerking it to the side as he did so. He grabbed the towel waiting for him by the counter, pausing only to see the fogged reflection of himself in the mirror.

            It was hazed, but—there were no scars. He looked… oddly young. His hair was at least to the middle of his back, now—although it seemed longer, that it was wet, and clung to his shoulders and face until he pushed the strands impatiently out of the way, turning his back resolutely to the looking glass as he started to dry off.

            Preposterous. Give him another minute or two, and he’d walk back into that room and see Kurama. All the old urges would come to him in that moment, and this foolish idea of living life as an ‘ordinary human’ would pass. He would want to maim, choke and terrify the redhead—he would, that was who he was, and nothing could change that. He’d lived the way he had for centuries before Toguro’d enslaved him—habits like that were hard to kill. Not that he wanted to kill them!

            He fumed, inwardly, furious that his mind was playing tricks with semantics on things such as this. Certainly, he wished for Kurama’s death! The disguised youkai ignored the voice in the back of his mind that spoke softly, prodding at him that it would be boring to be in Ningenkai—and in existence, in general—without the fox there to distract him. The only logical option would be to kill himself, to avoid that boredom, and affix himself to Kurama’s soul as it passed on. But then, the officials of Reikai would find his soul at that point(they wouldn’t allow him to escape their radar so easily, a second time) and separate them when they went through the Gate of Judgment, wouldn’t they? Perhaps the best option to be with Kurama would be here, in Ningenkai, under his assumed name, and—

            Suddenly annoyed beyond all rational belief, he pushed these thoughts firmly from his mind. He’d see, when he went back in there—the desire for the fox would not outweigh the desire to kill the fox. It was a simple matter, really. He shouldn’t be wondering about all this. Despite… despite the fact seeing Kurama react warmly to his touch—without the terror he’d always seen, from former lovers since as far back as he could recall—was almost a desire in and of itself.

: : :

            When he opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of the fox smoothing out the top comforter of his bed. The brunet blinked. Hadn’t the comforter cover been a different one when he’d left—? He narrowed his eyes, speaking quietly towards the fox.

            “Kurama… You—” A warm smile insinuated itself over the kitsune’s shoulder as the redhead glanced back towards him, straightening.

            “You are my guest, Kanisawa-san. I will not have you sleeping on the floor.” An elegant hand motioned towards a small pile of clothes on the fox’s desk. “Please, I’ve located some pajamas for you. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, however…” The kitsune made to walk past his friend and into the bathroom, speaking nonchalantly. “I shall be back as soon as I’ve finished.”

            The reincarnate opened his mouth to protest this turn of events—but the unexpected feel of Kurama’s lips on his cheek for a fleeting moment made the words die in his throat. Unintentionally, he felt his neck and cheeks begin to burn. He attempted to stifle it, making to turn and persuade the fox into taking his own bed—only to be met with the finalistic image of the door to the bathroom shutting with a prompt ‘click’. Frowning slightly—not only at the implications of his own reaction, but the current situation—he turned to the desk, draping the borrowed towel over his yet-wet hair. He noticed there wasn’t any underwear, and had to allow a soft smirk to curl over his face. How thoughtful of Kurama to take his preferences into accordance with what he’d said. It had been a bit of fun to react as a ‘normal, lovestruck human teenager’ would, in that situation—partially because he never would allow himself to react in such a way.

            Shaking his head, he reached for the loose pair of pants, pulling them on. Sliding the towel off, he donned the shirt, eying the white material and blue flannels once they sheathed his form from sight. Determined to at least have his way as Kurama was not there to protest it, he settled to a cross-legged seat on the futon, glancing around the room. It looked different when it was lit. There were bookcases, the desk and chair, the bed, the fern… The crow shook his head, then. The sound of the shower still lit in the background, he stood, restless. He had the idea it would be impolite to go wandering about the house—so, instead took to the kitsune’s bookshelf, running a long finger over the spines snugly arranged flush with each other. One title in a Makai dialect caught his eye, and he pulled it out, thumbing through the paperback tome. A lack of interest in horticulture had nearly killed him, before. No harm in possibly gaining a bit of useful information while the fox was absent.

: : :

            One year, he and his group received an invitation to the Tournament of Darkness. On a whim, he took Yomi and a few others with him, to observe the proceedings. Yomi felt the bloodlust keenly, and even in the youko’s chilled soul there sparked a tiny flame of interest. After a particularly bloody fight in the ring, he grabbed Yomi’s arm and dragged the goat demon into the shadows. They were not alone. Many demons became aroused by the intense macabre and massacres they witnessed, and so the youko had to shove and kick a few copulating pairs out of the way before he and Yomi managed to escape to some greenery-sprawled part of the island, leaving their group behind with the unspoken intention to meet up, later. It was then that Yomi became his lover.

            Kurama would look back at this time as the beginning of Yomi’s end. If, perhaps, Yomi had not grown so arrogant due to his high place under Kurama(as a direct result of their new relationship), he would have not begun to take up heists without consulting the fox. Perhaps he would have never been deemed a threat, perhaps Yomi then would have never gone on that doomed heist even after Kurama chastised him for the failed one, where the fox had lost so many valuable men and was forced to go in, himself, to ensure that the goat youkai did not die for his failings. Kurama had given Yomi one chance to change, and the younger demon had insulted it by not listening.

            Kurama had no lingering regrets over sending that youkai after Yomi and his group, to kill them.

            He had no need for followers so easily swayed by a hot-blooded leader, and he had no desire to continue to risk his reputation due to the stupid actions of said hot-blooded leader. The youko sensed a danger—Yomi was not likable, but he was able to win people over to his way of thinking, despite all the risks involved with his plan.

            Kurama would not risk that danger growing into a larger threat that could, potentially, seep into the rest of his group’s way of thinking.

            It was best to cut off the diseased limb before its malady could spread further.

: : :

~Present Time~

            Kurama emerged a little while later, entering his room to the sight of his… boyfriend, as it was, seated on the futon. His brow knit, and he opened his mouth to comment—until noting the set look of concentration on the other teen’s face, and the book in his hands. Kanisawa looked as though he were reading—that brought a smile, and the kitsune turned to close the bathroom door, announcing his presence as it shut.

            “Does that interest you?” As he turned back, towel firmly wrapped around his waist, cinnamon optics blinked up towards him. Only then could the redhead discern that the language of the book sprawled open in Kanisawa’s hands was not Japanese, at all. His eyes widened. Surely, the boy couldn’t understand the language, could he? Although it had looked as though he was reading it— No, that was preposterous. Smiling slightly to cover his unease, the fox shifted to his dresser, thinking as he opened it and rummaged around inside for something to wear.

            “This is quite complex.” The cultured, almost bored voice reached the air, and he held his breath, pushing a stray lock of hair behind an ear, brushing a seed. If Kanisawa could understand a demon language, he must be a demon—perhaps masquerading and seeking the perfect chance to catch him off-guard? Although that wouldn’t make sense(as Kurama then should have then sensed some form of youki emanating from him, were that the case), emerald eyes still hardened—directed at the wall as they were—with the brunet at his back.

            If Kanisawa is—

             “I wonder how they came up with such squiggles to use, for writing.” Surprised, the redhead’s empty hand dropped to rest on the edge of the open drawer in front of him, as he glanced back at the youth peering at the pages before him, the brunet’s fingertip running down the lines. “They don’t look like Chinese characters, or Russian Cyrillic, or even Arabic…” The boy sighed, shaking his head before aiming a slight smile up towards Kurama, a small blush coloring his cheeks as he then quickly looked away.

            “I didn’t mean to pry… I just saw a language I didn’t know, and the book seemed interesting. The pictures helped, too—although I’ve never seen plants like this, either…” The kitsune immediately felt his hackles drop, smiling more naturally and nodding a bit as he turned back to locating a pair of pajamas for himself. No, I’m just being paranoid…

            “It’s one of the Makaian languages. A dialect of Demon World.” He supplied the definition without prompting, taking out the sought-for clothes. Gathering them up, the fox strode off for the bathroom once again, tipping a warm ‘be right back’ smile towards his guest before disappearing behind the door.

            The crow let out a deep breath, closing his eyes. That had been close. He’d gotten too absorbed in reading to notice when the water had turned off. Shaking his head at his lack of attention, the brunet stood, quietly re-shelving the book to the spot between the English titles Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions and Dune, from whence it had come.

: : :

            Kuwabara had missed the evening train to Sendai by about fifteen minutes. The next one wasn’t for a few hours, and so he had settled in to wait, amusing himself with the arcade across the street. Scarcely a half-hour before the next train(around midnight) was due in, he wandered back over to the station to get a ticket, heard a high-pitched, frantic-sounding squeal and glanced up.

            Numerous people were point up at the ceiling of the train station, and Kuwabara felt his mouth drop open in surprise, barely having the time to catch the flying ball of blue spirit creature which barrelled into his arms. He turned red as everyone stared at him, and hastily left, casting Puu a sour look when they were at last standing in some dark alleyway outside the station.

            “Puusuke! I have to go save Yukina, I don’t have time for this! Now go home to Keiko, and—” The small penguin nipped at his hand and he cursed, tossing it away and up into the air. Glaring, it fluttered at eye-level with him, chirping insistently while still looking very angry. He frowned, swatting at the thing gently, but it just grabbed onto his hand with its tiny paws and pulled. Not expecting that, he stumbled forward a few steps with a squawk.

            “Hey!” More persistent chirps greeted this, and he sighed, rubbing a hand against the back of his head and glancing forlornly at the train station behind him. It broke his heart not to rush off to save Yukina, but Puusuke was just like Yuusuke—selfish, spoiled, and wouldn’t leave him alone until he caved. Besides, he wouldn’t be this worked up over nothing. As he cast a serious glance towards the blue creature Puusuke stopped for a moment, eying him as he hovered.

            “All right, Puusuke. I guess it’s important, huh?” Kuwabara nodded solemnly to the spirit animal’s self-righteous squawk, and gestured for the fluffy bird-like thing to start going, beginning to smile a little.

            “Then lead the way, little buddy.”

: : :

            When Kurama returned a minute or so later, Kanisawa was half-perched on the edge of the bed, apparently nervous and fiddling with something in his hands. Tipping his head to the side, the fox rearranged the towel around his shoulders, striding softly over.

            “Kanisa—?” He was tugged down, then, by a grip at his elbow, plopping soundly before the human seated atop the mattress. The redhead made to turn, but the feel of something non-organic tentatively catching on his hair gave him pause. Instead, he only attempted the slightest glance behind him, to confirm—catching a faint frown on the other’s face. Gentle fingers against the damp, slightly-frazzled crimson locks forced him to face front, then, once more.

            “Stop moving, Kurama…” That tone felt shy and embarrassed, and as long fingers smoothed down the silky tresses he had to fight a smile, aiming his gaze down to his hands in his lap and sitting obediently still.

            “Ah… yes. Thank you.” The fox stubbornly refused to acknowledge the rather out-of-place bit of red he could feel sneaking over his cheeks, instead merely enjoying the preening he was being subjected to. Time went on, and as the brushstrokes met less resistance it began to feel more like petting. His eyelids drooped, unconsciously relaxing enough that he was beginning to lean back towards the pampering motions. Kanisawa did not say anything, and he was just absently thinking he should turn off the light and prepare for bed, when a soft voice broke the silence around them.

            “You said the hospital brought back bad memories.” He tensed, at that, and the brush in his hair paused, minutely. It continued after another moment, undisturbed.

            “…Yes.” He recalled when he’d said that, yes—ah, he’d not thought Kanisawa would remember to ask on that!

            “What happened?” Kurama sought around in his mind for a cheap lie, anything to avoid revealing more of Reikai than he already had— But then, there were warm fingers against his scalp, slowly massaging on one side as the brush worked fluidly through the now-untangled locks on the other. He sighed comfortably, closing his eyes in contemplation. Well, being honest with Yuusuke had paid off, hadn’t it? His voice was just as soft as the brunet’s had been, when he spoke.

            “About a year ago, my mother was very sick.” The hands in his hair stopped. Was that a tremble he could feel? He made to turn, worried—and was greeted with a surprised blink, his movement seeming to jar Kanisawa back to the present, and the boy glanced away. Kurama’d not seen this, before. Concerned, he shifted so as to better face the teen behind him, raising a hand to tenderly, lightly, draw his fingertips over the youth’s cheek. The brunet winced, bringing up a hand as though to brush the redhead’s away—but, traitorous digits that they were, they instead curled around it. The fox attempted a small, soft smile.

            “Kanisawa-san? She’s—all right, now. ‘kaasan is in no danger.” Kurama watched the boy’s reaction to his careful words, eyes seeking out any information he could glean from the situation. The conclusion he was coming to, though… The redhead’s voice became gentler, his free hand seeking out the other’s on the bed, which was still half-heartedly grasping the brush handle pinned beneath it.

            “Is your… mother—?”

           “She passed away long ago.” There was something besides sorrow in that tone—regret, perhaps? It wouldn’t be uncommon. Mouth curving upward once more, this time in comfort, the kitsune leaned to kiss the boy on the cheek, eyes closing as he imagined the pain the other must have gone through. This boy was a human, after all—and humans got so attached to their parental figures, he thought in a wry moment of self-irony. They stayed like that for a little while, Kurama not offering pity where none was needed and Kanisawa simply remaining quiet.

            After a moment or two, though, it really was getting a bit too serious for his liking. Sliding smoothly closer, he was treated to the sight of brown eyes shooting open, locking on him. The fox grinned, leaning closer to capture the other’s lips in a warm kiss as his hands—began their attack! Those cinnamon optics practically bulged in surprise, an involuntary laugh spilling past the tiers as Kurama released him from the kiss and settled atop, mercilessly tickling.

            “K—Ku—Kura—!” Kanisawa’s face below him was steadily growing redder with the lack of air as he ‘tormented’ the poor boy, but he just beamed down at him, satisfied inwardly to see that look of sorrow was successfully banished. Certainly, this human youth could never understand the true, dark depths of pain—but that still didn’t mean he wanted to see the other wrought with even the shallower sort.

            “Hmmm~?” It was an ‘innocent’ sound, as he shifted to keep his wriggling victim pinned beneath, Kanisawa’s legs kicking out, trying to buck him off and—ah. Was that a bit of fury, in those eyes? His grin settled into a more mischievous incarnation of itself, as he leaned closer. He was still safely out of reach of the other’s writhing, though.

           “K—Kurama! L-Let me… !” He laughed at the attempt, going down once more to snatch the other’s lips in another kiss, hands pausing in the same moment to avoid the other hurting him in his flailing. The chest beneath him was moving rapidly to regain air—helped not at all by the fact he was kissing the poor teen. What he didn’t expect was arms to wrap around him—one around his neck, the other his waist—and draw him down. A small surprised sound escaped him, but it gave enough of an opening that the boy beneath him took full advantage, sliding past the opened tiers as his knee angled itself deftly between the fox’s legs.

            Kurama felt another blush fighting to escape, slivering his eyes open beneath their dark lashes to cast a covert glance towards the one beneath him. The other’s face was a bit out-of-focus, with them this close, but this fact was tossed aside in favor of arching his back as that hand around his waist traveled south. It took his ass, forcing his hips more into the rubbing knee. They twitched, faintly, and he had to pant as he drew away from the kiss, pressing himself up on both hands—it didn’t matter, Kanisawa was still attached to him due to the positioning of his arms. Teeth ran up his chin and he shuddered, head tipping back but more primal instincts jarred with the threat to his jugular. He brushed it aside, instead trying to reason when, exactly, had this turned into this?! Mother would…

            His eyes went wide. No—no, he couldn’t, not here—it was too soon, anyway, what was he thinking? Cursing mentally, he tried to extricate himself from the amorous teen beneath him. His movements did not go unnoticed.

            “K—Kurama?” It was husked, with too much desire and perhaps a touch of frustration or even anger, and he felt a shiver of fear before pushing it away. There was no reason to fear Kanisawa. Nothing. Just as he was determining a proper excuse, he felt the knee withdraw, and the naughty hand raise itself up onto his waist, once more. He was pulled down, unresisting, opening his eyes in surprise as he caught the serious darker ones watching him. A smile tugged at the corner of the older boy’s lips, even as his eyes glittered against the shadow Kurama’s form cast over them.

            “We don’t… have to go any further—if you don’t want to.” The boy beneath him was still catching his breath, and the fox lowered his lids, just barely observing the individual who now undoubtedly held a title of ‘boyfriend’.

            “Mmm…” A true flickering of regret covered his tone, and he raised his eyes a moment later, smiling as he was more accustomed to. The slender redhead slowly began to push himself off of the other—pausing, though, to press a kiss to his companion’s nose with a warm murmur. “I don’t think ‘kaasan would appreciate us continuing… She’s just in the other room, after all.” He couldn’t betray her trust—he already lied to her about his youko nature. To grant more deception for such a simple cause would give her reason to lose faith in him and he did not need a distrustful parent on his heels. As the kitsune continued to raise himself off of his guest—he suddenly smirked down at the brunet. A lofted brow inquired as to this.

            “What’s so funny?” The fox tipped his head to the side, scarlet tresses shifting with the motion, smirk still firmly in place and jade eyes twinkling with mirth.

            “Mmm~ It seems I’ve gotten you to take the bed, after all, my dear guest.”

            A vengeful palm thrust into his face—shoving him off—muffled Kurama’s ensuing chuckles.

: : :

            Unfortunately, at the next Urameshi Team match, Otouto insisted on going to observe ‘as a team’. Therefore, the crow demon was stuck standing at the back of the arena—in his place at the brothers’ left, Bui at their right, and Ani perched (like the monkey he was) atop Otouto’s right shoulder. He considered it a small blessing that at least Ani was not perched on his side—which was a tad surprising, as the onyx-haired demon was a mite better of a conversationalist than Bui.

            Either way, the Quest Class youkai did not allow himself to react in any visible way to his fox’s match against the short fisherman. No, he did not set eyes upon the youko’s true form and find himself both hushed and elated with the challenge that form might present. For only an instant, he had envisioned he and the silver youko locked in a deadly battle—those platinum strands stained a ruined red as the mighty fox lay dying on the Tournament floor, pale skin dotted with spots of darkest color in sharp contrast to his gauzy white robes, chunks of flesh burned away by his dear creature bombs…

            And then—all too soon for him to really get more than the vaguest glimpse—the silver youko was gone, replaced by the redhead he knew so well. The momentary infusion of the silver youko’s extravagant ki dissipated into the stands, and he took a slow breath in, feeling the barest minimum of that power—diluted, of course—reach into his body through the air. Intoxicating…

            Further clues as to the meaning of Otouto’s cryptic comment at the beginning of this Tournament came to light as he clarified Genkai’s exception later on in the fights, however. The crow quietly filed this information away, careful to give no sign of his thoughts. Ani was now the only one standing between them, and the ebony-haired youkai dared not venture a glance towards Bui lest Ani put it into Otouto’s head that they were plotting together to beat them (they had tried that only once, decades ago, near the beginning of their enslavement—and after that complete defeat, they had both silently decided to do the best they could, on their own). He would not put it past Ani’s vindictive side—which became rather obvious when the older brother sneered under his breath as Otouto explained to the audience the peculiar cell-age-regression quirk of Genkai’s signature technique—to come up with such a thing.

            “She is only an old, worn-out tool to get you what you want, Brother. Stop encouraging her…”

: : :

~Present Time~

            Her coat around her shoulders(after a quick change out of her pajamas), Keiko slid into her mother’s car and they sped away towards the hospital. Her father remained at home, up but cooking a meal for Kuwabara-san(who had likely spent quite a few hours waiting for Shizuru to wake up) and would follow after them, later. Keiko nervously clutched at her jeans, glancing worriedly out the window.

            If only I had a communicator! Then I could tell Kuwabara—

            Inwardly frustrated, she closed her eyes, tightly, willing the tears away. Where was he? Surely he would want to know that his sister was—

            The car slowed down for a stoplight, but then her mother gasped.

            “Keiko! I-Is that Kuwabara-kun?” Brown eyes jetted wide open, and Keiko glanced wildly around before her eyes settled on the tall, blue uniform-clad boy running after—something? He was already almost out of sight, and she hurriedly responded, rolling down her window.

            “A-Ah, yes! Hurry! Kuwabara!” She called out of the window as they approached, eyes locked to him as he turned the corner down a dark alleyway and he didn’t hear her but something in the air before him fluttered and Keiko’s eyes widened. “Mom! Stop the car!” The teen fiddled with her seat belt and as soon as the car had pulled over, Keiko burst out the door, running towards his blurry figure, her shoes tapping smartly against the pavement.

            “Kuwabara!” A ball of blue fluff propelled itself into her arms and she clasped it to her chest, eyes wide in surprise as the living projectile forced her to stop.

            “Puuuu!” Kuwabara turned at the sound of the creature behind him, blinking, stunned, at what he saw.

            “W-Wh—Keiko?!” He rushed over to her, mouth opening to continue to comment but she cut him off, eyes squeezing shut as she hugged Puu securely to her chest.

            “Shizuru’s in the hospital! You’ve got to come with us, my mom has the car waiting—” Kuwabara blinked at her for another moment before he lunged forward, grabbing her arms, face abruptly worried.

            “W-What?! What for? Is she all right? Does Dad know? Is she—” Attempting an encouraging smile, Keiko looked up at him with a nod.

            “Y-Yes, well, she’s asleep now—your dad’s over there and he’s been trying to find you, but—” A hand patting her shoulder was firm, as the taller teen nodded at her.

            “All right, Keiko. All right. Ane’s gonna be okay, she’s a tough old bird.” He cocked a smile at her that looked more worried than confident, but she took what she could and nodded back, again, starting to back up and turn to make her way back to her mother’s idling car.

            “Of course she is. Let’s get you there, though, right?” There, Kuwabara’s lips twitched, again, before leveling out into a firm line.

            “Right.”

: : :

~A Few Hours Later(than Keiko and Kuwabara’s Present Time)~

            Too soon for his mostly-human body’s liking, Kurama was awakened by a tentative ki-pull upon the peony atop his roof. It was soft, but instantaneous—there was only one person who even knew the flower was there(and only one reason it was there). Cautiously moving to sit up from his futon on the floor, he cast a glance through the dark towards his guest—Kanisawa-san, still sound asleep on his bed. He smiled a little in fondness at that sight—before that spiritual tug on the small flower made itself known, again, and Kurama glanced up towards the ceiling, brow furrowing.

            Botan.

            As quietly as he could, Kurama padded out of his room—grabbing his emergency bag along the way, just in case—being sure to shut the door in silence. He made his way down the stairs, and opened the front door, sliding out and locking it behind him. The redhead strode to the sidewalk and glanced up. A pink kimono sleeve waved at him from the roof, and the ferry girl quickly used her oar to glide down to him. Her face was drawn and worried, and Kurama blinked, about to comment—Botan nearly floated into his face, though, normally-cheery voice an urgent hiss.

            “Kurama-kun! Yuusuke and Hiei are in trouble! They’re facing off with—” The fox felt something in him recoil at the mention of Hiei, and his eyes darkened as he covered his emotions, glancing away from her distraught gaze as Botan's feet landed neatly on the ground, at last.

            “They are strong, Botan. I’m sure together they can—” She cut him off, grabbing his arm as she leaned in.

            “No, you don’t understand!” This close, again—he noticed her face was very pale, her windswept hair more wild than usual. “Hiei’s not in full control of himself, Yukina-chan’s been kidnapped and Yuusuke can only hold him back so long before he kills—” Gasping, Botan covered her mouth, fuschia eyes going wide as Kurama’s own narrowed at this information, mind working fast as his tone sombered.

            “Yukina’s been taken hostage?” The ferry girl nodded furiously, uncovering her mouth and clasping onto his arm with both hands, now, her oar tucked under her arm(the paddle end almost touching the ground).

            “Yes, and Hiei’s not himself! Not to mention they’re up against a monster made entirely of water—which is already Hiei’s weakness—but due to anger he’s not thinking straight, so—” Kurama felt the familiar battle instinct settling it—worry over his friends masking any lingering hurt due to the youkai’s actions months prior. Why did Hiei not call for my help, he had to ask himself in one fleeting, bitter moment—but Kurama understood an instant later. Of course Hiei would not call for help through the Jagan—they had not spoken through that mental channel in over half a year. Pride. Kurama cut off Botan’s desperate ramblings with a sharp nod.

            “Take me to them.” At her answering shift, he slid behind her onto her oar, with little concern for the fact he was wearing not more than a thin pajama top and bottoms(thankfully, he’d had the foresight to slip on his sneakers in the genkan). The spare clothes in the emergency bag slung over his chest could replace those, anyway, but first they needed to leave. He was needed. Whether Hiei would admit it or not, the situation was dire enough that Koenma had sent Botan to fetch him. Kurama was needed, and despite the fact he had not talked to Yuusuke in quite a while, either—they were still his friends. Their blood had been spilled, together. They had almost died, together. They had survived the Tournament, together—and it would take far more than a botched relationship with one member of their team to break that bond.

            As they launched into the night, his arms necessarily wrapped around Botan’s waist to keep him from falling off, the redhead cast a glance back at his bedroom window as it faded out of sight—and felt a stab of guilt for leaving Kanisawa behind him, unknowing. It was an emergency, though, as well as a Reikai affair. When Kurama returned, he would be able to explain as best he could. As for other matters—

            “Where are we going?” He tried to shout this over the loud noise of the air rushing past them, when they were far enough away from his home that the sound didn’t risk carrying. Botan turned her head, slightly, yelling back without glancing behind her.

            “Hokkaido! Now, hold on! I’m going to phase to get us there, faster!” He nodded against the blue ponytail whipping in his face, shutting his eyes tight against it and the wind. Deep down, Kurama didn’t really expect to be back before morning—before his mother(or Kanisawa-san) noticed he was gone.

            But I can hope…

~*~To Be Continued~*~