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.

With this chapter, this fic is over 50,000 words(50,897 words, to be exact)! Banzai! x3

Title: Second Try
Chapter Eight: Destiny
Word Count: 7,814
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai, mention of insanity/suicide, shoujo ai
Author: Kita Kitsune
Date: Monday(moon-day!), September 7, 2009
Miscellaneous Notes: Indeed, I finished this chapter a day after posting the last one. xD! Hurrah, hurrah. But, yes… this is a bit longer than some of the previous chapters have been, so I hope you guys enjoy it. :3 I’ll post this one when I have the next one fully written, so give it some time(this fic is branching off into places I never thought it’d go, just to warn you all. Oo;;;)~ …Ehe. x.x;;;

More Notes(Sunday, September 20, 2009): Heh, heh. You all hate me for waiting so long to post this chapter, right? When it’s been written for so long(well, thing is, I’m still only halfway done with chapter nine, so…)? …Anyway. School in general occupying me, got laryngitis, which led to the doctor commanding me on Thursday to rest my voice(a.k.a. don’t speak, whisper, cough, or clear throat), using ASL-fingerspelling/writing notes for communication, for the past few days, etcetera, etcetera(although by now it’s much better).

On another note… I love the last Yukina scene, in this chapter(Aha! Chapter nine is finished~! Now I can post this chapter, hurrah. :3). I worked so hard on it. That, and the last Karasu/Kurama scene. x3

Shushing up before I ramble too much and bore you all, and ruin something! ._.;;; x.o;;~

Also(I say this while referring to both of those aforementioned scenes that I just loved writing)! Let me know if people are awfully, horribly, terrifyingly OOC(I’ve got a sneaking suspicion about my Karasu… although I did put a random bit of history in here—between the Karasu backstory and the Youko backstory, you’d think I’d had enough of them, but nooo, I had to branch into another character… x.o;;;)! Please? ;.;

Reviews are an idle hope, perhaps, but then I always was rather dim in the ‘hopeless’ area…

: : : : : : :

As time went on, the little kit grew. He wandered all around the deeper, darker parts of the forest, making friends with the plants, taking the time to listen and doing his best to talk to them—even if they lacked the ability to actually verbally respond to him, he knew they understood. The youko was so ecstatic that he’d found a way to talk to his beloved plants! He told them this again and again, wandering around the woods, for all the world perfectly happy and oblivious to what was happening in the Makai outside his forest home.

The only time he bothered about the outside world, at all, was when trespassers entered into his domain. Too often they were stupid, blunt demons that wandered in with the intent to spend the night. Now, while this bothered him—their stinky, ugly feet stepping on his moss, and crushing his seedlings with their big hunking boots!—, what really set him off was when they would go to make something strange. He’d only seen it, once—and once was enough to tell he didn’t want anything more to do with it.

A distress call from some of the maples living on the edge of the forest had urged him to the scene, and he’d rushed to their aid—upon noticing it was a pair of youkai, he crouched in the branches overhead, youki easily covered by the greenery around him(that was already infused with it, from his many years of life here), taking the time to quietly observe the strangers. One of them lugged a bundle of healthy-looking branches—as good as limbs, to the tree who was now bereft of them!—and he fought down his anger at the realization that these trespassers had dared to cut up one of his friends—, clenching his teeth and fisting his hands… but he about lost it when one of them pulled out something that caused the wood to glow yellow, and it would have been pretty but for the acrid smell wafting up from the dead branches, the smell of death and burning and shadowy tufts of air that tried to choke the forest with its offending odor.

Unable to take any more, he jumped down, arms crossed over his chest.

: : :

~Three Weeks Earlier~

It was mind-numbingly dull, up here. The thrill of torturing his human host had worn off too soon, and it was with a heavy sigh that the demon-in-human’s-clothing stretched out his fingers, admiring the thin, gangly tendrils before slipping them back to a more ‘normal’ appearance.

His brother was such a fool. Imagine—betraying him, like that, when he only wanted to help the ungrateful bastard defeat that Urameshi brat! He couldn’t understand his brother insulting him in such a manner—

Move. You’re in the way.

What right did that little scumbag think he had! He’d sold his soul right along with his sibling, and while it seemed all the enjoyment of their demonic reincarnation was left to him… Now, now! He tutted to himself, shaking a finger and swirling it up into the trees over head, wrapping the spindly, seemingly formless flesh around a branch and propelling himself up, cackling happily at the thoughts running through his mind.

Now, now~! He no longer lived in his brother’s shadow, and that treasonous wretch had gotten the death he so deserved. But for now… his new friends were quite amusing, especially the ringleader, but it was exceedingly annoying that they had to remain in such secrecy—he needed little things to torture, and as the ‘special’ humans that made up most of their group were off-limits, due to Angel’s command…

He found himself simmering angrily, as he was now. Beady eyes caught sight of a little bird’s nest and he grinned, teeth sharpened unnaturally off to salient points, gnashing them a moment before propelling himself towards the unsuspecting family with a gleeful laugh.

It was a shame the tall, darkly sadistic youkai had died! That crow demon would have gotten quite a kick out of Angel and Keeper’s respective motives, perhaps even helped him sow seeds of distrust in their minds. It would have been so fun to see their relationship twist and warp, to shake Keeper’s seemingly unfathomable trust in Angel, or to imply that Keeper really didn’t love Angel, as Angel thought he did…~

: : :

Still—nothing.

It had been a full week since she’d last sensed Hiei-san’s presence, and the method of his departure worried her, greatly. No… the ice maiden did not quite know what to make of her recent revelation, and the fire youkai had disappeared too quickly for her to properly gauge her own reaction, but…

Was it possible? Was it possible that her realization had been correct, and for all this time…

Yukina felt conflicting, identical swells of gratitude and anger settle in her heart.

Hiei-san… if he had known where her brother was, all this time… why had he not told her? What could be his reasons for lying to her in such a manner? Yet, in the same breath… she could not find it in herself to be too terribly full of rage at the thought. Yes, he had kept the knowledge a secret(and, she suspected, at least a few of her friends likely knew more about this state of affairs than they had disclosed)… but Hiei-san wasn’t a bad person. He was no worse than any other demon, really—killing and burglary were common crimes in Makai, no worse than swatting a fly or shoplifting were in Ningenkai.

Of course, in light of at last learning the whereabouts of her brother, these little lies did not seem so horrible… after all, Rui-san had lied, had broken her promise to Hina-okaasan the day her brother was tossed from Hyouga’s snowy peaks.

I promise you, Hina… I will do everything in my power to ensure your children are safe.

Rui-san had pledged that, had reassured Hina-okaasan when Hina-okaasan had confessed, fallen into her partner’s arms, sobbing and rueful of that one night of sharp love that sealed her fate. If Hina-okaasan had never… if she had never ventured out into that dark blizzard to admire its fierce beauty, that one night, if she had never found the near-frozen demon lying piled under drifts of snow—if she had never taken him to a nearby cave, and used her healing powers to bring him back to consciousness…

If he had never used that restored youki to light a fire, if he had never seen her face and fallen in love with her at first sight…

If she had only… if Hina-okaasan had only left him in that cave, safe and warm, and let him wait out the end of the storm, alone…

If she had only… hardened her heart as all the rest of the koorime did, against any Outsiders…

Yukina and her brother would have never been born.

Hina-okaasan would not have given birth to twins, one male, and would have never breached the expected monogamy of their kind. She would have lived on, for many years, with Rui-san—as was traditional and ‘good’—and had a baby girl perhaps very much like herself, but not quite Yukina. Circumstances changed personalities only slightly, even if Yukina’s appearance and this unborn girl-child’s appearance would have been nearly the same—but for the garnet eyes she and her brother shared. Rui-san had said, when she told Yukina all of this…

Your brother… we could only see his eyes, and the smallest tuft of black hair, beneath the wards. The pupils were small, distrustful, almost drowning in the wide white depths they settled in… There is no doubt in my mind that that boy understood everything that was being said, around him. Those tiny eyes, so unlike your own and yet so identical in hue…

Those small pinpricks of color, like drops of scarlet staring out from his pale face…

Although of the same shade, they were yet so different from your own, Yukina.

It had broken Hina-okaasan when Rui-san had been the one to toss her brother over the edge. The Elders believed they had been merciful, in this—rather Rui-san, Hina-okaasan’s life partner, than anyone else. Rui-san had every right to toss the Forbidden Child—Yukina’s own brother, Hina-okaasan’s baby boy—off of their floating paradise. His presence spoke of a sin too deep to ever cleanse. As the partner that had been betrayed, in Hina-okaasan’s laying with a male…

Rui-san was the only koorime on Hyouga who had the right to remedy her partner’s mistake.

If only the Elders had not continued to punish Hina-okaasan, even after that day, treating her as a social pariah every time she ventured outdoors. And Hina-okaasan’s guilt, not only for her sin, but for dooming her son to death at so young an age—and not only that, but the trauma of being so betrayed by her own lover in such a way, even though Hina-okaasan knew it was tradition, and knew that it was her own fault that she was suffering…

It was too much for her.

As good as exiled by the society she had been born and raised into…

Lain with a male, the greatest of taboos…

Betrayed her life partner with that one reckless night of passion…

Then, betrayed in return, as her partner—the true, steady, supporting love of her life—

Doomed her son—the only son to be born to a koorime, in the history of Hyouga…

In the end it was all her fault, for she knew the traditions, knew the laws that would have to be strictly implemented to deal with her transgression—perhaps she had thought the Elders would be merciful. Her mistake in assuming the compassion of her people overrode their laws had cost her son, an innocent babe only guilty of birth, his very life…

It was all too much for Hina-okaasan to be able to reconcile with herself. The price the Elders made her pay was heavy, as amidst all this… she slowly began to lose her grip on reality. The guilt over her twin brother’s death—no matter how many times Rui-san would assure Hina-okaasan that the boy was alive, and would return one day to seek vengeance—ate away at her, distorting her mind. Yukina remembered snippets of memories, or recalled them by way of Rui-san telling her stories of her mother as she grew older.

Hina-okaasan holding a tightly-wrapped bundle of cloths—too-often around an ice sculpture of a baby, her mother had been so talented in creating ice sculptures—cradling it and smiling at it, whispering words of love to the inanimate object with features crafted to look as close to the son she had lost as she could remember. Yukina remembered standing in the doorway, watching her mother as she went about caring for the infant, obsessing over it, letting it take over her life…

She recalled stepping forward, in eternally frozen memory, voice a soft, faint whisper in the icy room as tiny fingers tugged at her mother’s kimono—

“Hina-mama?” Those sapphire eyes had locked on her own, then, and Hina-okaasan had stared at her for a long moment before she began to laugh, too softly, kneeling down to offer the little koorime girl a glimpse of what remained in the swaddling cloths—with the temperature, the ice never melted, but her constant figiting with the object’s face often wore it down so it only vaguely resembled a countenance.

Here, here, see, Yuki-chan? This is your older brother. He doesn’t grow as fast as you, but he has your eyes… She remembered a cold, tender hand cupping her face as a blank smile crossed her mother’s visage, stringy strands of sky blue hair waving across her cheeks and forehead, making her expression appear unkempt and almost deranged.

Such pretty eyes, Yuki-chan. Red, red. Blood-red rivulets running down his cheeks… he’s crying, oh no! To this she would panic, run away to the back room with her precious bundle of ice and the little koorime would blink, a hand still outstretched for her mother’s robe...

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and she jumped a little when the heel of a hand placed itself gently between her shoulder blades. Looking up—the strong, sad, familiar face framed by hair that almost looked to be made of icicles gazed down at her, kindly.

“Rui-mama!” She sobbed, latching onto the full-grown koorime’s kimono, burrowing her face into the material and clutching there for all she could. Rui-san would pet her hair, gently smooth it out, and allow her to cry—it was too cold, and for that her tears could not even soak the fabric. Instead, the hiruiseki clattered down, disappearing into the ice-layered floor beneath them. After a few minutes, she would hear a soft, gentle tone break through her sniffles—

Yukina-chan… why don’t you go out to the forest and play?

I need to speak with Hina-mama…

: : :

Yukina had still been very young when it happened.

She came home, one day, only to be greeted with Rui-mama clutching a rag in her shaking hands, a puddle of hiruiseki gathered around her. The sound of the door closing caused the koorime to look up, an attempted smile faltering on her face and she rose, heading towards the only other occupant of the room and spreading her arms—only to fall to her knees and gather the little girl up, holding her tight against her chest as she took in a shaky sigh, gently rubbing the young koorime’s hair with a palm, as though to reassure herself that she was still there.

“Rui-mama… ?”

Yukina-chan… you should call me Rui-san, from now on.

I have failed your mother.

…I… I have failed you.

Hina-mama… your mother is…

The koorime had thrown herself off the very cliff that Yukina’s older brother had been tossed from, years before.

At that age, the young koorime could not imagine the agony and guilt playing with Rui-san’s mind.

But, somehow… Rui-san was stronger, than Hina-okaasan had been.

There was no body at the nearly-vacant funeral, as no one saw the use in bothering to search amidst the filth-ridden Makai wasteland below for a disgraced ‘former’ member of their sisterhood. Rui-san raised Yukina alone—as was the custom, for life partners would never take another lover if their partner died—and erected a grave for the dead koorime who had birthed a forbidden son.

However, to Yukina, that simple gesture of a memorial meant so much. She could talk to Hina-okaasan more, now, than when her mother had been alive—alive, yes, but so obsessed with the son she had lost, that she never once glanced at her own daughter, the boy’s very twin, without seeing her brother’s infant stare mirrored in her eyes.

A sound jarred the forest and she jumped in surprise, coming back from the old memories—hands curling atop her own chest in subconscious defense as wide red surveyed her surroundings. It had sounded as though… a bird was crying out in pain. The koorime closed her eyes, trying to focus on the source of the noise—oh, just to the left. Not too far away, either…

Turning, those borrowed brown boots quietly padded over the forest’s undergrowth, leading her in the direction of the distressed fowl. If she could help them, she would. It would not do to let such innocent little creatures suffer, and simply pass them by.

After all, if she did—who’s to say she wasn’t the same as those Elders who had taken it upon themselves to decide her brother’s fate?

: : :

He hadn’t had so much experience with lower-class demons, in years… imagine his amusement when he realized the pathetic hordes of youkai could not even see his explosives, much less avoid them. He hadn’t used his beloved bombs to kill in so long… and it gave him a mystical, dangerous quality, he knew, to seem to be able to destroy his enemies with ‘invisible’ tools.

However.

His first glimpse, down in the ring… Toguro Otouto had vocally indicated the Urameshi boy, who was fighting(by some miracle, the committee had approved it) on the literal edge of a knife, it seemed—punching the taller and bulkier demon with a periwinkle mohawk and braid across from the brunet. Such manifestations of ‘manliness’ were a bit blasé, in his opinion… but there was a splash of cardinal down there that wasn’t blood, and as his eyes settled upon the bearer of the color—his heart quaked. It must have shown, even if only in the faintest glimmering of those amethyst optics, but…

That first time he saw Kurama, even from the far-removed vantage point of the human owners’ VIP box, even before knowing his name, even before realizing precisely how attached that short, cute, efficient little killing machine of a fire youkai was, to him—

He wanted to know more.

The slender, dark demon silently rued the fact that he had missed the redheaded boy’s first match—and he vowed to himself, then, never to miss another…

: : :

“And here he is—Toguro Team’s Toguro! His opponents will be the Makaikyousenshi Team!”

Hidden in the shadows, he could feel rivulets of his power snake along his digits, making them twitch at the possibilities. His gaze was locked on the beautiful—oh, so beautiful, and so bold—sanguine locks of his newfound obsession, wanting to reach out and touch, and feel…

He restrained himself, with not a small amount of difficulty. The kitsune’s attention was focused on Toguro Otouto, in the ring against the five fighters of the opposite team—he cared not, he had seen enough of Toguro’s power to know that he would win… but the chance to watch the fox was a painful bliss, in and of itself. He had recognized the signs—it was quite likely he was smitten by the redheaded youko, and so to make things interesting he had instigated a war with his self-control. Some might call it masochistic… but it merely made things that much more poignant, to, for the first time in centuries, not allow himself to indulge in his urges the very moment he beheld something exceptional…

He would not allow himself to touch Kurama. The thought alone gave him a thrilled jolt of suffering want. He would never give into caressing that warm skin—it held such a flush of good health, a stark contrast to his own pale countenance. Where he was skeletons and bones and everything dark, the bright fox was roses and green growing things and all the light they sought to supplement themselves with, to live long, flush lives…

The kitsune was just below him, completely taken in by Otouto’s exaggerated show of strength. He himself was crouched, hidden, perched upside-down in the shadows of the overhang above him. The white martial arts outfit the redhead wore perfectly coincided with their differences… whites and blues, golds and purples in contrast to his own blacks and reds. It made him ache, it made him want to tangle hands in that thick mass of hair, comb his slim digits through it, so that perhaps some of the vibrancy would instill itself into his own hands, his body, forever. It made him want to visit and revisit that modestly neck-to-toe-covered body, wrench the kitsune’s clothes into burning oblivion and caress everything he could both see and not see, in this moment…

He shuddered, feeling a low, creeping command from Toguro Ani distract from his thoughts. Apparently, the man wanted to make a public, albeit understated, appearance at the match—with his underling clearly visible behind him, and Bui was nowhere to be found. The dark youkai’s observation was thus cut short, and he dismissed the pang of regret as another wonderful after-effect of not being able to quite give into his desires, as he melted back into the darkness, withdrawing soundlessly but for the softest rustle of shadowy wind. The kitsune was… oh-so-enchanting, he knew if he began to touch, he would never stop. If he began to touch, so early on—the fox would be dead long before the finals. And so it was with deliciously conflicting thoughts that he joined Ani(who was just in the shadows, beside the lit entrance on the other side of the stadium) with a last, wistful thought towards his fox, sharp crow’s eyes locked on the kitsune’s expression from across the arena…

Would Kurama ever watch him—so nervously apprehensive—as he watched Toguro, now… ?

: : :

~Present Time~

Botan was beginning to get annoyed at him, he could tell. Perhaps it had to do with the various small things he found going wrong—his stamp going missing, only to find it under his chair, the light bulb burning out in his room, his remote misplaced… He let loose a low sigh around his pacifier, long legs of his adult form leading him around the halls. The godling glanced at the clipboard in his hand—

Kanisawa. Kanisawa Meirin. Now, where had he heard that name before? It had nothing to do with the numerous appeals Botan had sent in to him, he was sure… No, no. He’d heard it elsewhere. However, he saw hundreds, no, thousands of names each day.

—Which made it all the odder that he would recall such a name, in its entirety. Frowning, he stopped right in the middle of the hall, sucking furiously on the fukuman in his mouth, intent on finding an answer…

“Koenma-sama!” A bright voice broke him out of the intensity of his thoughts, and he blinked, staring before him at the blue-haired ferry girl who looked just as shocked to see him as he was her. Then, she smiled, canting her head in a cute gesture and fluttering her wings—sleeves!—into the air.

“Are you at last going to see Meirin-chan, perhaps~?” That cheery demeanor didn’t fool him—he could tell he’d be on the receiving end of quite a shouting match if he agreed to anything hinting at the contrary. He gulped, smiling in return, slipping his golden brown eyes to happy crescent shapes in an attempt to disarm her.

“A-Ah, yes, actually, Botan… I believe I’ve gotten a bit lost, though.” His tone sounded nervous even to himself, as those fuschia depths narrowed warningly on him. “Would you… care to show me the way?”

“Oh, of course, Koemna-sama!” The dark presence was gone, and he sighed in relief as she dragged him along by his arm, hopefully in the direction of the girl’s room. Well, that was one disaster avoided.

Now, if only he could convince the girl to be at peace with her fate, and crossover…

: : :

To say they were surprised would be an understatement. Here they were, having had the luck to wander into one of Makai’s great forests on their journey(they’d even gotten new horses, at the famous town, just a ways down the road!)—such a place had an ample supply of firewood, after all—and no sooner had they lit a fire, and were just about to relax, when this imp of a youko jumped down from above, naked as the day he was born, silvery hair rushing over his shoulders with a stance as though he owned the place, arms crossed and folded angrily, and a golden fire lit in his eyes.

He shouted something neither of them understood, and they glanced at each other before breaking into boisterous laughter, rolling over onto their sides and clutching them. This apparently did not amuse the wild youko, for his equally-silvery tail swished back and forth in what could have only been annoyance, those saffron depths narrowing further as they tried to speak—not that he would understand them, this wild child who looked as though he’d clearly been nowhere near civilization in his entire life.

“O-oh, kid, you scared us, there!” One of them grinned, sitting up and leering at the youthful nude body presented before him. He licked his lips, and raised a hand, beckoning the fox closer. The youko was watching them studiously, now, gaze thinning another notch as the sitting one spoke, waving him over, again.

“C-C’mere, kid… let’s get a look at yeh—mebbe we can get you some clothes, and some hot food… yea, w’u’d’ yeh like some hot food~?” He cooed, trying to make friends with the boy, while he could see his partner reach for the flogging tool tucked in the back of his belt—youko in this color were rare, and while what separated the fox-formed kitsune from their more humanoid youko brethren was not always clear… these two demons knew enough, that silver hair, tail and ears meant a silver coat. And there wasn’t a Makai lady around who wouldn’t sell half her soul for a silver-fox pelt…

This boy’s skin could make them very rich, once they killed him and he returned to his animal form in death, with all that beautifully satin-soft fur.

: : :

~Three Days Earlier~

These months in the Ningenkai had made him soft, that much was apparent. To run from Kurama! To flee from his kitsune, as though a frightened doe? It was unacceptable! Sharp lines angled over his grim face, as he bent over the ward before him. It had to be done. Tonight, and no later. It was a risky gamble that the redhead would not be on-guard for him outside his window, now… but it was his own fault, and he had to live with it. It was for his own error, and besides…

Besides…

These few nights being unable to visit his youko, for prudence’s sake, were fast driving him mad. The fox haunted his every thought, waking or no—Kurama swam in his blood, now. The youkai wasn’t quite sure what led him to feel as this… in all his long years of life in Makai, no one lover had ensnared him, completely captivated him as the kitsune had, so effortlessly, with but a single glance.

No lover—who had yet to even realize the depth of his devotion. Who had yet to realize the passionate intensity of which he used to dote upon them. The single-minded determination—to survive death, only to see his fox, claim him, mark him as his… to painstakingly craft the situation to his liking, yet even now, with a flick of his wrist, that fetching thief could steal all his plans, turn them to dust on a whim…

Thin digits shook, but he steeled them with a firm shove of ki through fingertips, imbuing the thin slice of rice paper with borrowed reiki from the humans asleep, upstairs.

There could be no more mistakes.

: : :

The tree was silent as he approached. That was good—he felt no whisperings of communication trace through the air, innocent as pollen to the untrained eye… the ivy and roses were silent, as well. As best he could discern, at any rate—he did not speak plant, had no interest in horticulture… only the faintest echoes of ki rippling towards the kitsune’s home would give him enough warning to flee. However, there was nothing…

Deeming himself safe, the reincarnated crow coiled his legs beneath him, silently springing up towards the branch that led to his beloved’s window.

Imagine his surprise, when that same branch lashed out and wrapped around his waist!

Gasping in near-soundless shock, he moved slender digits to push the tough bark from him—the shift had been silent. He hadn’t heard it coming… but the footsteps he did hear stunted his movements, abruptly-brown oculars snapping towards the source and he was absently glad he had pocketed the ward, so it did not now flutter down to rest at the youko’s feet.

Glimmering in the lack of light, nonetheless piercing jade rose up from the ground to meet him, scanning over his captured form. The kitsune was in the same style of silken bed-clothing from before, arms crossed casually over his front(oh, he was too well reminded of the youko’s stance, during their fight, those many months ago)—but his feet were clad in those same slipper-shoes he’d worn at the Tournament. Notably—they were not the house slippers that the Japanese so often took to wearing in their homes, to keep them moderately more clean than their Western counterparts.

He cursed to himself, feeling the tendrils of fear snake around his legs much as a few of the thinner branches were.

Kurama had been waiting for him.

Cool green watched him fight to escape, until he at last realized it was fruitless, and instead went to playing his part—an exhausted human admirer, perhaps(his mind raced to come up with a good excuse for his actions), come to play a moonlight vigil by his beloved’s bedroom… it was shallow, quick, dirty, closer to the truth than he would like… but would it work? He opened his mouth, trying to play his skills to their best—

“You are human… and yet…” The kitsune’s voice made the words die in his throat—one could only assume death at the dangerously soft tone. He recalled it from the redhead’s fights, in the Tournament, when a hapless fool would anger him. It was that—the cool, understated confidence conveyed through words delivered so deliberately quiet it would set anyone on edge—which silenced him. In this moment, he was acutely reminded of the steelier side of his beloved’s soul.

Partially in shadow from the leaves of the branches of the tree overhead, that clever, infuriatingly clever youko was observing him through half-drawn eyes, one partially obscured by thick scarlet tresses that appeared grey in the night—and he would be a fool to assume that the glint of saffron in the verdant depths was a spare bit of light reflecting off the moisture coating those oculars. That single optic was fierce, though, a glint of deadly, uncompromisingly purposeful intent in the dark depths set within a deceptively angelic face.

“…I…” Even to himself, that simple word was too squeaked, sounded too innocent and unsure to be real—perfect. It was careful, now… he had to be so careful. Turning his head to the side, hiding behind a curtain of hair as though bashful, sharp eyes darted this way and that in his mind, trying to latch onto an adequate—no, not adequate but perfectly executed—response.

“For what reason have you come here?” His throat was dry, as he opened his mouth, again, to the question that interrupted his attempt to offer a comment in his defense—only to swallow. It was excruciatingly loud in the silence after his beloved’s statement.

“…I… only w-wished… to see you…” Good, good, a tremble there never hurt—his arms were pinned to his sides by the branches of the tree—not painfully, for which he was curious(then again, Kurama had always had a strange affinity for not harming the ‘innocent’, since he’d been reborn in this world, and his soft spot for humans was, by now, infamous…), but decided not to complain of it, keeping his tone in the scared, high squeak of a human teenager caught in a situation he did not understand, oh-so-young and confused… yes, yes, that would be his mask. He would call the fear of Kurama killing him back to his mind when the kitsune wished to meet his eyes, but until then…“…I-I don’t—w-what is…”

“This tree is an old friend of mine, and he did not take lightly to your shoes digging into his bark, these past few months.” He was jarred, first by the smoothly executed response—then cursed mentally, again. Of course, Kurama would know… even if his ki was invisible to the plant, his weight wasn’t. Neither was the body heat that labeled him as an animal, a living being… surely, if Kurama had looked into it he would have discovered how long he’d been coming here.

“I merely… assisted him in acting on his thoughts.” However, that low alto was slowly turning pensive, and he dared a glance towards the redhead. That unearthly quality was slowly fading, the darkness seeming less oppressive around the fox—there was even a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. For a moment the reincarnated demon couldn’t register the expression… then, shakily offered a mirroring one of his own, squirming just slightly, rubbing against the bark as though to find a more comfortable settlement of his self.

“…c-could he… let me down, do you think—?” He would feel so much better if he could not be snapped in two on a whim, even though it seemed unlikely, with Kurama apparently pinning him as an ordinary human(he thanked whatever god had given him that gift, that he’d had the foresight to shield both his reiki and youki from the fox, with that first seal)—one could never tell. However, he did see the youko’s lips twitch, and a slightly playful narrowing of those drowning green eyes let him know his attempt at lightening the situation was not in vain.

“Ah, now I’m not so certain of that…” That voice was almost careless, nonchalant—but that faint glimmer of teasing in the kitsune’s gaze did not waver. He allowed himself to relax, minutely confident that he would not be killed… so long as he kept his ‘innocent, infatuated human’ mask firmly in place. The crow forced a blush onto his cheeks, painfully hating the exposure, but knowing—somehow—that the kitsune would pick up on it, and it could only help him, at this point…

“W-Why—?” Was it his imagination, or was there a grin—a smirk?—tugging up a corner of the redhead’s mouth?

“I believe there is first the matter of your explanation to attend to.”

: : :

“C’mere, boy—we’ll take yeh someplace nice, y’u’ll get a good night’s sleep—”

They were saying something, but it was in a language he’d only heard a few times, before… however, the way they said the words was making him sense a threat. Saffron oculars flicked to the ‘subtle’ movements of one of the youkai’s hands, towards the back of his belt… his mood went suddenly sour. Yelling once more, for them to go away(even though they likely wouldn’t understand him), he turned without another glance, and felt the whoosh of his seedlings rising to life from the ground, tangling around the demons and ripping them apart. Their screams rent the air, until they were cut wetly short. The young fox demon coolly glanced back, at that point, unfeeling amber glinting in his own gaze as a small splatter of purple blood sprayed upon his cheek. Nonchalantly, he wiped it off with a thumb.

They had been killed in the most gruesome manner—and yet the most satisfying, for his more bloodthirsty plants. The ones that fed on such life-sustaining fluid were already scrambling to drink up the flowing nectar, and the trespassers’ bodies would make excellent fertilizer for the rest of the plants. They were impaled many times through, with the ends of vines sharpened to blades, hung as though on display, almost oddly as those criss-crossing deadly tendrils of strong, deceptively thin greenery jutted fully through their corpses at varying angles and degrees. He walked over to the dancing object of marigold-yellow, that was as fluid as water, staring at the odd, flickering thing in curiosity, then leaning down and reaching a finger out to touch it—

Itai!

Pulling back with a pain-filled yelp of surprise, he cupped the burnt finger close to his chest, eying the small hot thing untrustingly, now. He had no use for it. But how to put it out? Anything living would burn, that was clear—if it burned the wood, and burned him, what else could he suspect?

Ah. A rock shouldn’t burn. It wasn’t alive and so shouldn’t feed that hungry tongue…

He located the largest stone he could find, and hefted it back to the clearing, firmly pressing it down onto the small, flickering substance that burned like acid when touched with a bare hand. He waited a few moments, grinding the stone into the burnt wood for good measure before daring to lift it, cautious of that tiny yellow thing having at last found a reason for vengeance—the death of its masters—… but was greeted only with a chalky, black substance that was cooling to the touch, but nothing more.

: : :

~One Month Earlier~

She had been wandering in amidst the trees for what felt like years. While, at first, it was refreshing—it reminded her of her childhood—after a while it began to feel more and more oppressive, the further she went. The trees were growing darker, closer together… and she had a distinct inkling that she was being followed. Only after a few weeks did she notice this, and then with careful observation for a few days, she began to pinpoint where the source of the youki was. It tended to keep to trees, and sometimes disappeared for a few days—but it usually always returned around nightfall, when she was getting ready for sleep. The cold did not bother her(as there was both fire demon and koorime blood in her veins), so she just comfortably curled up at the base of a tree with her knapsack where a human would have been shivering in their heavily-insulated sleeping bag beside a raging campfire.

It eventually got to the point where she could sense the demon behind her… and at last, one of those days, tired of being so silently stalked(and recalling her not-so-pleasant run-in with the human, Tarukane, and his cronies… and how they had gone about capturing her), she turned around, mustering the fiercest voice she could manage, and called fearlessly(she hoped) to the trees, her soft voice echoing about their branches.

“Who is there! Please, show yourself!” She steeled herself for a confrontation, beginning to take note of the ice all around, for her own benefit—Touya-san had taught her to use her surroundings and drop the temperature(she’d done that, before, but he had showed her how to summon it at will, not just when she was feeling angry), as she would be at an advantage over most demons in colder surroundings. It was lucky there was snow and ice around—she might be able to make them form a shield, if this demon tried to attack.

There was an instantaneous flash of black in front of her vision and she raised her arms instinctively over her face with a gentle cry of surprise, to protect it—but when nothing came she blinked, slowly, taking to peering through the gap in her arms before she gasped, a name escaping her as she ran forward, enveloping the wiry fire youkai in a relieved hug.

“Hiei-san!?” He was stiff beneath her, all hard angles and clearly not comfortable with the close contact—so she quickly let go, a small smile nonetheless brimming onto her face as she stepped back, bowing slightly in apology although her tone was still lit with happiness, at finding a familiar face so far north.

“Ah, I’m sorry… I did not expect to see you here.” She blinked at him, staring slightly, and he shifted, casting a glance towards her from the side of his sight before tipping it off, elsewhere.

“I was training.”

“Oh!” Slightly worried, the koorime brought a hand to cover her mouth in surprise, ruby oculars widening a bit. “I’m so sorry! Did I interrupt your training?” The Jaganshi merely moved to stare at her, garnet… garnet oculars drilling into her own. Unreadable—but not expressionless. He didn’t… he always seemed to be so on-edge, around her. She attempted a slight smile, stepping forward just a bit, hoping to ease the gathered tension.

“…Hiei-san? I… appreciate your concern for my safety, but—“

“You did. It was inconvenient.” The interruption was abrupt, and he turned his back on her. She blinked, lips curving downward in a soft, frustrated frown. He didn’t… he didn’t want to admit he’d been following her? Even when it was so obvious, now that she looked back, and compared the youki she’d been feeling with who was standing before her, now…

She hid a smile behind her hand. It was… rather endearing of him, to be worried about her enough to follow her, but to deny it when confronted about it. She doubted he would state it like that, however… Beaming warmly, she transformed that amused little smile to a gentler one, optics half-mooning sweetly at the Jaganshi’s back.

“Oh? I apologize, Hiei-san.” He glanced back at her, only canting his head enough that a single—red… optic observed her, again showing no real reaction, but she could almost guess he was suspicious at the tone. She blinked as though surprised at him facing her, then smiled once more, gaze quietly locking on the fire demon’s own.

“…did anyone ever tell you… we have very similar eyes, Hiei-san?” She took another step forward, expression growing a touch more serious, even as that soft, hesitant curve remained on her lips. At the comment, the temperature seemed to drop sharply, and the line of the other youkai’s shoulders had gone very tense—she could see it from here. Slowly… she pressed on, voice falling a hint gentler as the koorime continued to approach, that ever-so-slight smile lingering on her face as she began to raise an almost-trembling hand towards the other youkai’s back, fingers stretching as though to catch his scarf.

“…and… now that I—think of it…” Quite lightly, those digits brushed the back of that white ascot wrapped around his neck, her own scarlet gaze locked on the one visible orb of his—his reactions were puzzling. Hiei-san looked as though he was—what was that human expression Kazuma-san had told her about?—a… ‘deer caught in headlights’, or some such similar thing. In fact… he was so tense it made her wonder what was… bothering him so much. Was it her presence? He’d always seemed to be rather distant, but… he’d saved her, twice, hadn’t he? He couldn’t dislike her too terribly much, if he had saved her… and, here in this forest, followed her—she continued, voice soft.

“Hina-okaasan always said… my older brother—he had eyes just like mine…” A slender, pale hand had shifted, its fingertips gingerly resting on the ebon fabric concealing a shoulder beneath his cloak, and she leaned in so slightly, trying to get a better view of his face from behind his shoulder, blinking sharply at how his muscles were drawn into themselves so tightly, she would be surprised if he hadn’t turned to stone… or ice?

“…Hiei… -san…? Are you all right—?” Carefully, she eased off from her previous thought with that comment, having determined a theory, but… willing to give him his space, if he needed it—even as the heel of her palm remained pressed, almost feather-lightly, to the inky material covering him. She could feel the warmth of his youki strumming beneath her palm, warmer than Kazuma-san’s(naturally, seeing as what element Hiei-san controlled), but not so hot as to burn…

He tipped his head faintly, staring at her now with his full gaze for a few frozen moments in time, and she him—scanning his eyes, glancing back and forth between them(the Jagan hidden behind its ward)… taking note of the rich, carmine color—the ‘color of blood’, as she had so oft been teased about, on Hyouga. It was the very same color that had haunted Hina-okaasan, whenever Yukina met her gaze.

It was… strange, but—nearly comforting, to see the exact hue of her own mirrored in another’s eyes.

However—

Her gaze slowly trailed downward, studying the curve of his face—child-like, as to her own. It was elvish, almost like to what she recalled of her mother’s face—his features were so young, like hers and Hina-okaasan’s(fogged memory serving the best, here, and how Rui-san has said Yukina bore a real resemblance to her mother), large eyes—they both had small frames… Certainly they must have the same build, as they were both shorter than nearly everyone in their close-knit group(excluding Genkai-shihan), she’d seen him fight countless times during the Dark Tournament, she could recall how slight he appeared, how birdlike, then… and, he was often so nervous around her—and so very… protective… of… her…

Memories suddenly flashed in rapid succession.

The human, Tarukane, Hiei-san’s shell-shocked look when she asked who he was—

Botan-san looking nervous, when Yukina had shown up at the Ankoku Buujutsukai, professing that she was searching for her older brother(she had not missed the look of relief on the ferry girl’s face when the koorime admitted to not having a picture of him, to help in her search)—

Botan-san, so quick to defend Hiei-san in front of her, as Kazuma-san was telling her about Hiei-san and how ‘dangerous’ and ‘mean’ he was—

Hiei-san saving her, as a wall circling the Tournament arena nearly collapsed on her—

Their eyes were the same precise shade of scarlet, their builds very similar—they were both small and pale and slight… like two sides of the same coin…

From what Rui-san had told her of how Hina-okaasan had described the appearance of the fire demon that was Yukina’s(and thus, her brother’s) father…

All of the inklings, the half-conceived notions found this moment as the time to line themselves up, into a proper deduction—she’d always felt a nagging sensation in the back of her mind, ever since she’d met him at Tarukane’s mansion, that she should know him from somewhere, had met him at some point in the past, but…

The koorime’s mouth fell open in silent, demure surprise as the realization fully caught up with the current moment(this flash of insight barely having taken a blink’s worth of time), a hand coming up just a few instants too late to completely cover the slightly parted lips, white showing around the carmine pupils, irises shrinking within their circular pools in disbelief, but the more she thought of it, the more—

“Hiei-san…“ That positively breathless utterance must have spooked him, because the Jaganshi’s own expression suddenly flashed to panic—he was gone, then, and she gasped upon sensing motion, reaching out for the blurred after-image, tipping forward and running a few steps, intending to follow—

Don’t go…

“Hiei-san! Ikanaide! Hiei-san!”

He was nowhere to be found—she couldn’t sense his presence, at all…

“Hiei-san—!”

~*~To Be Continued~*~