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 Nine: Memory
Word Count: 7,775
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai, mention of insanity/suicide, shoujo ai
Author: Kita Kitsune
Date: Sunday(sun-day!), September 20, 2009
Miscellaneous Notes: I love this chapter. Really, really, I do. I love the Youko backstory in it, as well(it gets better in the next one!). I know the first kanji(for Kurama’s name) is not exactly the same as how I’ve ‘translated’ it, here… but, in English we don’t use kanji. xD ;;; And… it’s a fanfic in English. Thus the reasoning/excuse-making for creative license~! x3

Sekah-san(Sunday, September 27, 2009): You’ll giggle at how amazed I was that your review only critiqued my tendency to write looong sentences/be wordy(I like words~! x.x;;;). xD Seriously! I don’t usually take criticism well(I’m really too sensitive when it comes to my writing), but I’ve heard that type of thing before—thank you for drawing my attention to it! [I about fainted when I saw I’d gotten two new reviews—and then, from you! Uwah. x.x;;;] I suppose you would have mentioned it if my Karasu was terribly OOC, so in that case perhaps he’s not… ? x.o;; I’m still so new at writing him(and I put him in such weird situations that it’s even harder to try to keep him IC), forgive any mishaps, please, and make me aware of them(cleaning up writing is easy, trying to fix inherent flaws in plot and character development is another beast entirely… !)? On the other hand, I was tickled a bit pink that someone who knows writing actually took the time to inform me on my mistakes. :3 I’ll do my best(lol, right after I read your reviews I went through this chapter and tried to cut-down a few of the longer sentences. Hope this chapter passes inspection~!)~! […heh. This chapter went from 7,707 words to 7,775, after the editing. Interesting~] [(Oct. 6): Uwah, I think your reviews made me lose a little confidence. ;.; I’ve been agonizing over one part of this fic for ages, now, it seems. I have to just sit down and write it, and not worry about it. D: It’s not writer’s block. I’ve thought of a billion different ways to go, and now I can’t decide on the best of them—so, the solution for that is to get lots of sleep to recover from last week, and then just sit down and let my fingers decide where this fic should go, instead of my brain. I just hope the quality doesn’t suddenly spike drastically down, in the meantime… ;.;~ ]

Additional note(Saturday, October 10, 2009): Good luck on your SATs! Hope you did well!

BlueUtopiah-sama(Tuesday, October 6, 2009): [Yes, I got a response to your review out! Just in time!] I… really don’t want to come off as arrogant, but… x.x I really have no idea what you mean by those… ah… ‘creative little twists’? ;.; It all seems trite to me(isn’t everything, these days?), but… I hate seeing the same things in fics, over and over. Like how we… see all these fics about Youko in Makai, but never his childhood(have you found a fic that does Youko’s childhood yet, besides mine? If you have, point me to it! Of the two Kuramas, he’s my hands-down favorite. :3), and all these things that are fanon that we just assume(guilty of using one of those, myself, with the tree outside Kurama’s bedroom window…) are there, because we’re so used to them… And, people ignore little facts like Youko probably started out as a kitsune, before being able to turn human, and… I sorta subscribe to the recent theory that Youko was angry because of ‘honest pain’(I’ve lifted that phrase/concept from someone’s fic, somewhere)… um, I really just bring together a lot of stuff I’ve seen in other places. Maybe not all of it is from spring-boarding off of other people’s musings(and has to do with my own speculations regarding the characters, and because Togashi-sama has left so many holes for us to worm our way through), but… it’s really not that wonderful and creative a fic, I suppose is what I’m saying. x.x I-it’s really not. Although my Karasu muse is having fun with the Kurama muse, and I’m enjoying their interaction even though it’s really a challenge for me(I think so, at least) to keep Karasu IC. I think my Kurama’s pretty natural, but I’m getting iffy on him…(although it was so much fun to write scary-intimidating-Kurama last chapter where the fox has the power in a Karasu/Kurama situation[even though Kurama still doesn’t know it’s Karasu—that’s an endless source of ironic amusement to my brain, you know xD]). Point is, I bring together lots of ideas from the grey matter that is my mind, and I don’t try to copy anyone’s ones exactly, but… if something gets in my brain, it usually warps itself and comes out completely different, or at least different enough that I don’t think I’m copying. It’s just… it’s just writing. x.x Nothing special, really. Although I do tend towards long, rambling explanations and sentences… ;.; Uwah, but thank you for your review. Hope you like the Karasu/Kurama interaction near the end of this chapter, yes yes(the Karasu muse demanded it be written)? x.o;;; No OOC-ness, hopefully… @.@;; Your reviews make my day, regardless(just wait and see what happens[I've only got some of it vaguely-planned, though]. Just wait~!). Always appreciate the effort(by the way, Yukina is my favorite female character in YYH, along with Genkai.). :3

More Notes(Tuesday, October 6, 2009): Having the G-20(G-35?) in Pittsburgh was amusing(students getting mixed-up in riots and tear-gassed on campus for standing around watching the protestors[during the, as I quote “Fuck the Police” gathering, on Friday night], lol), but… Life pulled rank hard, last week. [Shall I rant? I shall.] Crazy stress from two exams(Wed. morning and afternoon), a kanji test(Thurs. afternoon), two homework assignments due(Tues.(that one was late) and Thurs. afternoon), two doctor’s appointments(Tues. and Thurs. afternoon, the Tues. one of which they drew blood for and so I almost fainted[as I’ve never had blood drawn, before, most likely] as a result), and two ‘experiments’ where I was the ‘experimentee’(Mon. and Thurs. morning before my classes on those days) took it out of me. Literally no time, at all, to write(what with the kanji practice and such, which means repeating the same character about 40-60 times so I learn-retain how to write it as well as its meaning, and for an entire lesson of 15 characters that’s about 600-900 characters written in one sitting, on mindless repeat). [Oh, and I have to start looking at classes for registration, for next semester.] Thus the stagnation and the long wait for a new chapter. Sorries. x.x Hopefully I’ll put the finishing touches on chapter ten, so I can post this later today(it’s 3:14 AM, EST, right now). D: Bah! x.x

[On the plus side, the mother is coming to visit this weekend(it’s a six-hour drive from home, and because of that she only visits once a semester—once in Fall, once in Spring), and we might be going to see “Cirque du Soleil: Alegria”(We[the mother and I] never go to these sort of things, but we like them. We haven’t gone to one since the Nutcracker by the Russian Ballet when I was in elementary school. I don’t think it’s being frivolous and over-indulgent if you only go to these things twice in about twenty years, right?), ‘cause it’s in Pittsburgh from October 7-11—so there’s something that could break the monotony. We(this time, as in the students and staff of the university) also have off on Monday~! x3]

…Screw it. I’m posting this tonight. D: (It’s now 3:43 AM)

: : : : : : :

The years passed, and as nearby Saddle-Horse Village grew in popularity(due to its excessive breeding of the Makai strain of the Ningenkai species in order to meet growing demand among demons for both horsemeat and an easier means of transportation), the number of youkai tromping through Saddle-Horse Forest increased. It was an endless annoyance to the young youko, who was just as content living alone in his secluded wood. The forest was shrinking at faster and faster a pace, despite his attempts to thwart the progression of ‘civilization’ into his land. So, he took his anger out on the passersby, violently murdering anyone who set foot inside his forest. Eventually the fox grew powerful enough to defend his territory from the feeble attempts to clear land, that the progress slowed, and the town drew back in fear whenever the name of the forest was mentioned. Kurama-mori, “Saddle-Horse Forest”(the ‘u’ in the first part of ‘uma’ cut off as people were always in a hurry, when talking—thus making the name pronounced by the locals(and eventually all of Makai) ‘Kurama’, not ‘Kurauma’) made the locals want nothing to do with the ghoul that lived in the dark recesses of the wood.

Some said that it was a god, fallen from long ago, taking revenge on worshippers that had forgotten him in light of more industrial pursuits.

Others, that it was a group of thieves who used the place as their hideout, and set traps and killed any who came too close to their guarded treasure.

And still others… these tales were mostly told from children, for they seemed to be the only ones who survived any contact with that haunted wood—or the good ones, at least. The ones who were bad, unruly and rude who wandered in were never seen again, but the good, polite and quiet ones always seemed to come back—sometimes with strange flowers in their hair, and their eyes full of stars, babbling about a silver-haired youko and the beauty of forest-song in the morning, and the voices of the trees and flowers and wind and water twinkling through brooks like stars did the night sky…

Of course, these children were paid not much mind when they were small, but as they grew, and began to replace their parents… They held firm in their belief that a guardian-youko, a magical, powerful youko unlike any other inhabited the still-large expanse of Kurama-mori. Even as the village moved on from its horse enterprises, the business spreading out to other towns—it kept its name, and so did the forest. The children never learned the youko’s name, it seemed he never had one, but the ones that stayed close to home seemed to visit the forest more and more as they got older. They said that the youko was young and beautiful, although—and they all giggled, at this…

When he learned enough of their Makai-demon language, one of the first things he asked was, ‘why did they cover themselves’. They’d all laughed, and just said—

“Because that’s what we do, in Makai! Only animals don’t wear clothes!” He’d, surprisingly, seemed not to take offense to this—the youko of Kurama-mori was known well for his temper—and instead took to contemplating it. The children grinned, as they told this part of the story, for the next time they came back he was wearing a gauzy white-robe-sort-of-outfit, made from what they didn’t know, but it shone and never seemed to stain and practically glimmered, all on its own. He’d asked them, offhandedly, what they thought of it and they’d all just agreed that the white clothing set off his silver hair, and tail, and ears, and saffron eyes so well… and as a result(it seemed), now every time they came he was sure to be wearing it.

: : :

~Three Weeks Earlier~

When she came upon the birds’ nest—it was only a ruined litter of twigs and straw. The occupants were nowhere to be found, only a few discarded feathers gathered around the broken home. The scene unnerved her, slightly… perhaps they had been attacked by a hungry animal? It was not the most admirable aspect of life, but necessary, and… she tried her best to shake it off, turning to head off in the direction she’d come from.

Hiei-san…

: : :

As hours passed, and there was still no sign of him, she found herself beginning to worry more. Valiantly, the koorime tried her best to keep it from bothering her, but an old whisper of death echoed at the back of her mind.

Why didn’t he tell you? He didn’t want you hurt, if he died in battle…

She shuddered, her pale frame shaking beneath the cape Genkai-shihan had leant her. Hina-okaasan… why was it, that all of her family members… ? She shook her head, at this thought. No! Hiei-san was not dead. He had merely… run from her. He was… so different than that ice-baby-sculpture Hina-okaasan had cradled. She could see his features laid over the ice, but… Surely, he knew what it felt like to have no family? He had been raised without even Rui-san there, to help him… what sort of life had he lived? She only wished to be close to him… she only wished to feel love from her family, Rui-san not included… Hina-okaasan had always been so distant, preoccupied, unstable. But Hiei-san…

Did Hiei-san know how dearly Hina-okaasan had loved him? Did he know… that the loss of him so tore at her heart, that it was only a few years later she fell to her own death? Yukina’s thoughts teetered towards old regrets—

Hina-okaasan...

Why did you have to die—?

I… Rui-san has been wonderful to me, but…

Hina-mama…

Why did you have to die? Why did you have to leave me!

She had curled into herself on the path, kneeling, and roughly covering the collecting tears in her eyes with petite, pale hands, catching most of them before they could fall in gem-form to the snowy ground below. Hina-okaasan… she had never been the attentive guardian Rui-san had been, and yet… and yet—

Was it so wrong to wish for your mother’s love… ?

Unwillingly, she felt herself pulled towards memories—

: : :

Oi, look, it’s Yukina!

The small girl blinked, at the gathering of koorime her own age, at the edge of the fence outside the building where they traveled daily, for their education. It mostly consisted of learning to sew, cook, and function as a proper member in society—but always…

She attempted a small smile, raising a hand to wave at them even as she dared not assume, and step closer. She’d never had any friends… but, finally, could they—?

All too soon she was surrounded by sneering faces—identical blue eyes stared coldly at her from every gaze. Visages oval, square or round, frames short and stout or tall and lanky, it didn’t matter—they were perfect(albeit younger and smaller) carbon copies of their mothers, who only stood down the road a ways, chatting.

“Hey, Yukina.” The biggest one of them sneered at her, face not delicate at all, but hard and mean, with angry lines carved all over her expression. Instinctively, she shied away from the leering face, that fragile smile trembling at the corners as she brought her hands up to clutch at her chest in a subconscious move of defense.

“I-I… K-Konnichi wa, Maiko-san…” But the girl only peered closer, before grinning, and abruptly shoving her on the shoulders, and into the arms of one of her friends, behind.

“Would you look at those eyes!” Maiko yelled, loudly enough for all in the surrounding area to hear. Her minions chorused around her, adding insults as the poor koorime girl at the heart of this was shoved around in the entrapping circle, rough, small hands like her own pushing and pulling her so she nearly stumbled to the ground not more than once—

“So ugly!”

“They’re like blood!”

“Blood, blood!” It became a chant, and at last she fell to her knees from a particularly violent shove, covering her hands with her ears and squeezing her eyes shut to try and block out the sound. It was to no avail, though—Maiko grabbed her by the collar of her yukata, and wrenched her up, causing the poor red-eyed girl’s gaze to inadvertently fall on her. The big-for-her-age child snarled in her face, teeth snapping an inch from her nose, enunciating the words excruciatingly well.

“My mama said your mama’s a whore, Yukina! She said she had a boy, and he was so dangerous he had to die, right then!” There were gasps all around, and involuntarily that garnet gaze fell to the ground. Maiko shook her, again, and, fearful, the tormented girl brought her eyes back up to those perfect-blue ones glinting meanly at her. “That’s why you have those ugly-ugly red eyes! Because your mama’s a whore, and she laid with a man! You’ve got the eyes to prove it!” She laughed, here. “You’re tainted and ugly! You’ll never be one of us!”

“Yukina’s mama’s a whore!” Jeering taunts echoing around her…

“Uuuuuugly, uuuugly~!” She put her hands to her ears, trying to—

“Red eyes, red eyes!” Squeezing those offending oculars tightly shut…

“A whore!” N-no, no, Hina-mama wasn’t—

“Like blood! Eeeeeew!!” If only she was blind, if her eyes were gone, she’d be ‘normal’…

“Imiko, Imiko, Imiko!” Shrill laughter echoed around the group of jeering children. They must have gotten the word from their mothers… While the term did refer to her older brother, it was now being used as both a painful reminder of her dead sibling and a simple insult. Yukina raised her head, staring miserably down the street towards the adults, begging, pleading for help with her eyes…

But the women merely watched, smug smirks on their faces and they leered at her, mouthing the words of their children when they saw her gaze had fallen upon them.

Forbidden… dirty… filthy… Imiko…

After a few more slaps and taunts, they left her there in the snow, outside the school.

: : :

“Yukina-chan! Goodness, what happened!” Rui-mama’s voice was concerned, and the older female hurried over to her—but when the little girl raised her head all that greeted her surrogate mother-figure was a warm smile, eyes half-mooned into bright crescents.

“I fell, Rui-mama.” She carefully deposited her pack at the side of the door, before bowing respectably to her mother’s life-partner. Exactly as she had been taught, in school. Show respect. Her voice was polite, perfectly accented to show demure elegance in mere words. “May I go play in the forest?” Rui-mama was silent a long time… but at last she heard a soft assent of permission, and the girl turned and ran back out the door. The rips in her yukata fluttered in the wind as small blood stains dotted the fabric, scratches and bruises visible on her pale face and limbs.

Sighing, the adult koorime shifted to close the door after her. A moment of pensive thought passed, and quiet steps took her to an inner room—the bedroom, they shared. Hina was curled up in a rocking chair, cooing soft nothings to the bundle of ice in her arms. Gently, Rui laid a hand on her shoulder, and Hina started, glancing back up at her with wild eyes before something seemed to register and she smiled. However, the other koorime didn’t miss how her arms tightened around the pseudo-baby.

“Rui! You’re just in time, Hio needs his bottle… would you fetch it for me?” Her voice was bright and merry, fingers of the hand not supporting the ‘infant’s head caressing his face, his cheeks, anything of his visage beneath the bandages that they could reach. Quiet sapphire oculars gazed at her shorter mate, sadness carefully stored away and hidden.

“Hina… Yukina-chan came home looking awful, again, today. I think she is being bullied by the other—“ She was forced to stop when Hina waved a hand in her face, tut-tut-ing and turning her adoring eyes back to the ‘child’ in her arms.

“Rui, what are you talking about? Yuki-chan is fine. She’s nice and healthy, and growing well.” The woman hummed, rocking her babe. “But, Hio needs lots of attention! He’s not growing at all!” Her voice became distressed, then, and she abruptly stood, clutching the ice-baby to her chest as her quick movement knocked the rocking chair over. It fell between them like a barrier, frantic, crazed cerulean on somber sapphire as the ice-infant was pressed—hard enough that, had it been a real one, the baby would have been in danger of suffocation—to her bosom. “Rui! What if he’s sick! We have to help him!”

She couldn’t help it. The koorime rushed forward, enveloping the smaller woman in her arms, holding Hina to her and leaning her chin over the other koorime’s shoulder. She heard muffled protests about the baby, but Rui merely held her tighter, emotion trying to choke her voice.

“Hina… oh, Hina—“ The tears in that tone must have come across, for her insane partner abruptly stilled both her struggles and her protests.

“Hina… I am… so sorry… for what I have done—“ She heard a mumble about Rui having done nothing, but that… That Hina had even blocked out the memory, repressed it and it was yet eating away at her, her sanity was— Forcing her voice a notch calmer, Rui attempted to continue.

“But, Yukina-chan… Yukina-chan needs you… she doesn’t deserve to suffer. You can’t just… let his death… you can’t—Hina—“ Her lover was still, for a moment. Then, suddenly, Rui was shoved away—her long sleeves and kimono skirt sprawled out over the icy floor as she looked up, hard cerulean bearing down on sad sapphire. The ‘baby’ was once more clutched protectively to the deranged woman’s chest.

“Rui! You would have me sacrifice the life of one of my children for the other?! Hio is a sickly, unhealthy baby! Yuki-chan is well and fine! I will hear no more of thi—“ She stopped, eyes widening abruptly as a sound only she could hear echoed out, interrupting her. At this, Hina returned to cooing and murmuring at the ice-child, rocking it, caressing its face and whispering soothing words to it. “Now, now, Hio… don’t cry, my dear… don’t cry, my baby boy… Hina-mama didn’t mean to shout and wake you…”

Rui knew…

Rui knew she would never get her Hina back, as she watched her love profess various motherly things to the inanimate object in her arms. She knew it was a fruitless endeavor. Their laws as well as her own love and devotion—in addition to her guilt of tossing that boy-child(and Hina’s sanity) over the cliff—would not allow her to leave her partner, no matter how unstable she became.

But… Hina was still Yukina-chan’s mother. The mother who had birthed her—just as precious and good as Rui’s own child, who had not survived to full term. The fragile girl who had been born already dead.

For Yukina-chan, she had to keep trying to reach the Hina who was drifting further from reach, day by day… due to her guilt.

: : :

Laughter echoed in the icy forest, as she frolicked with the animals. They darted here and there, and she smiled, tumbling along with them to land in a giggling heap. She patted their heads, and they rubbed their snouts and noses against her. Little birds landed on her shoulders, fearless of the larger animals, and nuzzled their soft feathery heads to her cheeks.

The little koorime smiled, gazing fondly at the affectionate animals. Animals… who didn’t care what her mother had done, who didn’t care that her eyes weren’t blue, like every other koorime’s on Hyouga. They didn’t care she was different.

It was nice, to have friends like that.

: : :

How intriguing. He ran a long finger over his chin, tapping the digit there as he stealthily trailed the petite young demoness through the woods. Her thoughts were providing an interesting show of entertainment—he smirked to himself, mildly thanking Angel for having done that ‘test-run’, back in the city. It had awakened a few humans with powers, and he’d gone to peruse them, his own ‘chef’s delicate taste power providing quite interesting. Especially that one with the ‘Tapping’ ability… it had proven rather invaluable.

Oh, there were the other humans who had powers in their group, as well… he had to guess, despite Angel’s hatred of the human race, that he did not wish for those humans to be tortured. He sighed, long-sufferingly. It had been increasingly boring, as a result… but, here. This—‘Yukina’, was it? He had seen her, before… yes, quite a long time before, but he never forgot a face. Especially when he recalled that face twisted into shocked, disbelieving agony over… what, the deaths of a few birds? Her ‘charming’ naïveté bordered on disgusting.

But here, now… she was painting such a lovely, tormented picture of her past for him.

Perhaps she would amuse him for a while—but for the moment, he would wait. He would gather more information from her mind before seeking to amuse himself, further.

: : :

He was far too disappointed, at the next Urameshi Team match. Mildly cross at finding his kitsune nowhere in sight(and, granted—healthily suspicious of the Jaganshi’s absence, as well), he carelessly took to wandering, having no interest in watching the weak, controlled humans. The puppets were taking on the(marginally moreso—how disappointing that Otouto thought that boy would become strong enough to defeat him, if he lost so easily to his own kind—) weak human members of Kurama’s strange collaboration of allies.

Taking a smoothly running start from the top of the stadium, he soared elegantly over the wind and forest below, jagged black cloak billowing out behind him. Lilac-hued oculars scanned the seemingly endless trees, in search of a bit of fun. He was greeted with the too-familiar sounds of destruction, causing a slow, wicked grin to snake, unseen, over his expression beneath the metal mask. Surely, this would be better than the weak human-on-human fight taking place in the ring. Surely, one of his fellow youkai had found a means to amuse themselves, and it would be quite the missed chance if he were to pass up the opportunity.

Tranquilly, he changed directions, angling himself just so, as to fly towards the source of that sound. A dark figure appeared over the top of the canopy, something sharp glinting in his hand—ahhh, wasn’t that the short, mean little demon on the Urameshi Team? It did his heart well, to know that that bastard-child of ice and fire was not laying hands on his pretty fox. If he himself could not, why should anyone else think they were entitled to touching his kitsune?

A light hum of piqued interest bubbled in the back of his throat as the figure disappeared, and he heard a cry, then a crash not moments later. The lanky youkai landed out of sight, unhurriedly striding through the trees—only to be greeted with the sight of his redhead somersaulting quite beautifully through the air. The carmine locks were floating gracefully behind, taunting him with the vibrancy of their redness and the silky luxury that shone from the angle of the sun upon the fetching tresses…

He felt a shudder, as the ground quaked under the metallic hands of some engineered mechanical monster, but murky amethyst were locked solely on the last place he had seen the fox. That salient gaze was perfectly still as he began to piece apart images from the clearing dust. Soon, a too-lascivious smirk pulled up a corner of his mouth as he beheld the kitsune’s clever manipulation of the robot’s weakness.

Ahhhh, Kurama. He spared himself one more perhaps-fond glance, before pivoting neatly on a well-polished boot, and heading back towards the ring. He fought the urge to take advantage of the redhead’s current distraction to meet his own tumultuous desires. No doubt, with that minor… altercation… behind them, the two youkai would beat a hasty return to the arena, to help out their more human brethren. Not that it would do them much good—the fools had agreed to a three-on-three match, and the Buujutsukai rules succinctly stated(in numerous ways, for varying levels of intelligence) that the rules were to be followed down to the letter.

...Lest the entire island break into a free-for-all, devoid of order.

Not that he minded the idea of such chaos, but in said chaos(were it to occur), he might make the tragic mistake of seeking out his fox. With no boundaries to hold him in, and the Tournament thrown into disarray, and in the confusion—he might just ‘innocently’ violate him, which would no doubt soon result in the redhead’s untimely death. There was no room for that… Kurama was the first perfect specimen he’d found in a painfully long period of time, and with the Toguro siblings having as good as run his life for the past four decades, his ‘dating’ methods were sorely out-of-practice. He couldn’t even quite recall the last time he’d set ruin to such an exquisite individual…

Well. Perhaps this explained his sudden attachment to the youko, the ‘instantly smitten’ factor aside. A low chuckle wound up, faintly muffled behind the mask, as he serenely waded into the darkness the shadows between trees offered. The burning in his chest that called to be sated in the kitsune’s flesh was only growing stronger, by the day. If the humans survived this match, the team might very well make it to the finals—and he then subtly swore to himself that if that be the case, he would have Kurama as his opponent, and take all the time he could to ‘touch’ him in their battle. He would let his beloved explosives speak for him. They would rend that soft human form with bloody wounds and burns in shades of dahlia that would so admirably match the warm mane of claret that waved in beckoning, sultry curls over the kitsune’s back and shoulders…

It would be his tribute to the fox’s beauty—to bathe him in red, all the life that hue gave in cutting irony of embracing him for the last time. He could imagine it… the kitsune would gasp, those grass-green eyes going wide, then nearly closing. The youko would tumble dramatically onto the ring’s floor, at that point, never to rise again…

He could picture it too well.

A shiver worked its way over his abruptly-tensed shoulders, and he allowed the violet depths to slide shut, lost to his imaginings as a breathy sigh echoed against the metallic inside of his mask. He would pull out all the stops, for his unfortunately-public lovemaking of his dear fox… The situation gave him no other choice, and it was always so more dramatic when one of the combatants died. As such, he did not quite allow himself to dwell on the notion that, had they met in different circumstances, he would have liked to place the kitsune by his side, forever…

The tendency to kill all things he loved, aside, of course.

It was perhaps the first time in many, many centuries that he could recall feeling the meager, barely-noticeable stirrings of possible regret, for having to take away something already so dear to him…

He easily waved the feeling off, instead indulging himself in how best to go about the redhead’s demise, in their surely-upcoming match. …For they would most definitely make it to the finals, wouldn’t they? Over the course of the past few days, he had not dismissed the way Otouto watched the Urameshi Team battles, nor the way he eyed that ‘Masked Fighter’. The bulky demon’s words on the boat echoed back to him, then.

“Before the finals of this Tournament, a fifty-year disagreement shall come to an end.”

How wonderfully intriguing. It kept his mind off the fox, at any rate…

He should look into this. Use his connections, younger and weaker crows to scan about for information—it never hurt to(privately, for his own use, of course) bring to light a weakness about your oppressor, even if said weakness was likely soon to expire…

: : :

~Two Days Earlier~

“Minamino-kuuuuuun~!”

“Oi, Minamino!” The calls were excited(and sometimes lusty), echoed by dozens of girls and boys alike. A single, dark-haired teen stood patiently by the gates of the school as the countless hordes of humans filed out around him. He had eyes only for the sparkle of scarlet in their midst, however. He felt something in his chest flutter awkwardly when those green eyes lit upon him, and attempted a faint smile, raising a hand in a casual wave. The reincarnate allowed himself to take mild comfort in the fact the sunglasses hid his eyes, even as they did nothing to calm his heart. He was becoming rather adept at his ‘innocent teenage human’ act—however, it never hurt to take precautions. The demon was oblivious to dark, shrewd eyes observing as ‘Suuichi’ managed to disentangle himself from the group of fans clamoring for his attention. Because of that, he also missed the thoughtful mannerism of thick glasses pushed up on a nose—the action clicking silently, but going largely unheard.

“Kanisawa-san.” A smooth alto was closer, warm jade was bearing up from beside him, then, and he felt a small brush of wind as those carmine tendrils settled into stillness. He tipped his head, just faintly, taking in the slightly haggard look of the boy. It was barely discernible, just the slightest ruffling of beautiful scarlet, and only slightly obvious how he had his school bag tucked(no doubt protectively) under one arm. To that effect, the taller teen felt a quiet smirk twitch at his lips, despite all attempts to quell it.

“T-They are… rather ‘enthusiastic’, aren’t they?” He put a bit of nervous flush onto his face and into his tone, at that, allowing the faintest hint of what could have been tentative envy taint his gaze. The kitsune watched him, a moment, and he shifted the slight curl of his lips to a lopsided, slightly abashed or embarrassed smile. The action was slated as though to disarm the scrutiny—without yet denying his interest. Then, slowly… Kurama smiled, and there was a hint of amusement in his good-naturedly chastising eyes.

“Kanisawa-san. Please. They’re young...” Ah, the irony of that statement. It would be suspicious if he commented on it, however. Surely, he was passing himself off as a ‘spiritually-sensitive’ human, with the ability to ‘hide himself’. (This was how he had thus found the fox and known right away he was not quite human—or that was the reason he’d given Kurama, anyway.) Of course, as such he should know nothing more of the redhead’s inhuman heritage other than what could be easily gleaned from surface interaction. At any rate, the dark-haired would-be teen offered a nod, angling his body such that he intended to leave.

“Shall we go, then?” Another smile met that, and he had to return it, musing idly over the too-natural reaction as they ventured off from the gates of Meiou Academy.

: : :

Time continued to pass, lazily, in Kurama-mori. The children grew and sent their own children to the forest, to make friends with and learn of plant-secrets, from the youko. For lack of a ‘real’ name, they dubbed the youko ‘Kurama’, after his forest.

Youko Kurama’s Kurama-mori—located on the outskirts of Kurama-machi.

His legend grew slowly, in those days—he was not yet a thief, and was perfectly content to live until the end of his days in the forest he’d retreated to, after his family’s murder. He barely remembered them, now—and he’d not seen his black fox-father in decades. However, it didn’t especially bother him. That kit he’d been was far, far away, now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken on his own, original kitsune form. It felt almost too natural, now, to use hands and fingers and to run on only two legs. It was easy, as well, to wear the light, flowing clothes(he’d realized they were important for demons who were bipedal and had hands to don), around others. He’d also learned a good portion of their language, as well—it wasn’t as lovely and flowing as the plants’ language, but it would do when he needed to communicate with the youkai that gathered around him.

He never left the forest, though. The children would try and coerce him from it, but he would always refuse, saying he preferred the darkness and cool serenity of the wood to the bustling city nearby. Only one day, did they at last succeed in entreating him to go out…

It was a lovely day, warm and mild, when he stepped out of the forest. His feet were bare, but the rest of him was clad in the white gauzy robe he’d fashioned from a cotton plant blown in by the winds over the desert(and his own ki). Each hand grasped one of the children’s he’d come to know, so well, and a good horde of them followed after him as he stepped quietly into the city. At this time, he was only perhaps a hundred years old—if he would transform into his fox-form, he would see he only had one tail, yet. To say he was amazed by the city was an understatement… growing up as a kitsune, he’d seen only the woods, and in his self-imposed isolation after his family’s untimely demise, he’d not ventured out of Kurama-mori, and so…

“It’s him! The Youko, of Kurama-mori!”

“Youko Kurama!”

“He’s so beautiful—“

“So young—feel that youki?!“

“I thought he’d be older…”

The chorus of whispers around him were too-audible to his sensitive hearing, and he wrinkled his nose. It was a reaction he’d have not once or twice at the acrid smell of so many unwashed bodies, crammed together into the flats of this bustling city. No wonder he had never ventured out. The clean, blanketed carpets of moss and dappled sunlight in the forest were a clear winner over this smog-clouded metropolis.

: : :

~Three Days Earlier~

”…I see.” The fox quietly tapped his cheek, seated comfortably atop another branch, the first one still holding the onyx-haired youth captive(albeit with much less force, than before). Jade eyes bore into him, and he fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably. It was imperative Kurama buy his excuse. Suddenly, the kitsune smiled.

“You remind me of a friend of mine… I am impressed with your ability.” The redhead waved a few fingers, as though dismissing the compliment, and leaned back easily into the trunk of his tree. “It takes one with great knowledge to mask their presence, entirely. Although I am rather intrigued as to why my demonic aspect does not… ?” The reincarnate allowed a blush to tint his cheeks, at the intent gaze that was curiously unreadable(or so the kitsune likely thought, anyway) and he turned his face away, muttering something—but nonetheless careful of his choice of words.

“I-I’ve watched you for a long time, and only a few months ago found where you lived… I-I knew you were different, right from the start.” He cast a bashful look towards the fox, from under heavy lids and concealing strands of dark hair. “I… I don’t care about that. I just—I didn’t think you’d ever notice someone like me… I only came by Meiou to pick up my cousin…” He thanked whatever gods above had decided to make it a coincidence that his thin-wisp-of-a-cousin was part of the infamous ‘Minamino Suuichi Fan Club’. He dared not ask more, or how it came about… but it at least presented a very convenient excuse for having glimpsed Kurama, before. He stuttered a bit more, in the echoing silence, playing a very human trait to ramble, and fill any lasting quiet with pointless noise. “I—I’ve… liked you, ever since then, but I didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. I didn’t—I don’t even know if you swing that way…” Here he let the cerise hue take over his face, and turned his expression away, hiding under the drawn curtain of his hair.

Luckily, it seemed the redhead did not recall their run-in, some months ago, on the street… thank whoever had granted him this large amount of luck he’d accumulated, for sunglasses.

—Wait. Was that… a blush, on the fox’s cheeks? He blinked, noticing it out of the corner of his eye. The ebony-haired youth shifted for a better view, stare growing absently intense as he took in the fetching shade dancing almost unnoticeably over the youko’s expression. That is, until verdant oculars locked on his own, and he felt further a rise in his own facial heat(no doubt his human body reacting emotionally to the situation), for being caught. He turned quickly away, once more, and muttered an apology.

…where did that come from?! He was abruptly irritated at himself for the knee-jerk response, even as he knew this act was required, to keep that clever fox off his trail. But to… he kept the grumbling to himself, though, that mental voice falling silent as a softer one echoed out on the physical plain.

“In addition to talent, you must be rather… sensitive… to have realized I am not entirely human, Kanisawa-san.” Here, he peeked through the shadowing inky strands, cautiously glancing towards the kitsune. If anything, it was a good sign Kurama was smiling at him, if perhaps a bit uncertainly… When the fox reached out, the demon flinched instinctively away, expecting the worst—only to go deathly still when he felt tender digits running along his cheek. He dared a glance up, and was caught in a sorrowful, ancient emerald stare in which only the barest glint of hope lingered.

“You… are different, as well.” The crow did not allow himself to freeze in fear, at that, merely continued to gaze back at the kitsune, affixing a confused gaze onto the fox. It was hard to concentrate, when the mere contact of Kurama’s fingertips on his skin sent electric thrills through his nerves and straight down to—

He blushed, hurriedly fighting to turn, to hide away—but a rich twinkle of laughter stilled his withdraw. He gazed back at the fox, yet again, and almost saw a glimmer of pained regret before it was shoved away in light of what seemed to be sad—but perhaps fond—acceptance. The redhead withdrew his hand after patting his companion’s cheek, gently.

“Perhaps—our paths have crossed, for a reason.”

…Of all the things he had expected Kurama to offer, friendship—instead of death—was not one of them.

: : :

~Two Days Earlier~

Yet, here they were—walking down the street, around the block to his limousine. As always, he offered the kitsune a ride, but the fox simply shook his head with a smile, nodding politely at the driver as he opened the door for the dark-haired lad. Not quite able to stifle the gesture, the taller youth reached out. It was terribly bold, and he was both unnerved and excited by the naked surprise in those beryl optics as he grasped onto the redhead’s hand, carefully brown eyes watching him intently.

“…Suuichi-kun.” He’d almost uttered a different name, one that would seal his fate—but the kitsune interrupted him softly, not throwing off his hand but not squeezing back as the redhead averted his eyes to the side. It was not a bashful gesture, merely uncomfortable. Interesting…

“No, not Suuichi. It sounds far too…” Another shake of that vibrantly-colored mane. He was momentarily fascinated by the slight movements of those bright strands. ”My friends who—the ones who know… call me Kurama.” The utterance brought another pained look to the youko’s face, then. It made the fox appear as one of the tragic heroes in an ancient drama—with one fatal flaw that brought them to their knees. Something had occurred, in the past few months since the Tournament. Something had changed, in the kitsune… he could tell. Kurama was less stable, more vulnerable(in some ways more than others), and more withdrawn than he’d been, before. It was quite different from the belligerent redhead he’d confronted in the hall, and another being entirely from the confident silver youko he’d fought—

The taller demon had to swallow to try to cure his dry throat—as well as refuse the urge to gather the other into his arms, kiss and tease away that regret until it faded to lust, and terror, and…

“…Kurama, then.” Was it him, or had he husked that name with a notch too much desire? The very name that had driven his thoughts for the past seven months, and longer— Nonetheless, if the redhead noticed it only showed by a brief smattering of pink. The dark-haired teen held those elegant fingers another moment before leaning down while simultaneously drawing them to his lips. He almost tenderly dusted his tiers over the back of that hand with lowered lashes, trying to fight off the heady scent that emanated oh-so-naturally from his kitsune with an illustrious murmur.

“Shall I… meet you here, again, tomorrow?” He was becoming a bit too bold, perhaps—but it was in his nature, and he had waited far too long for his own tastes… That ‘innocent human’ façade could only carry him so far, anyway. Besides, human teenagers were not merely innocent… they had desires and wants, just as any being. The masquerading demon knew he was charming and irresistible when he wanted to be, as well.

Thus, he was quite satisfied by the further demure pinkening of the kitsune’s face, even as the redhead turned away and brought a hand to his face to attempt to conceal it. The darker one’s lips curled into an unseen grin above the previously-kissed flesh. The slender digits really did no good to hide it—a thumb rested on the apple of one cheek, palm spread over the end of the kitsune’s nose as the index finger of the same hand rested upon the curve of the other cheek, remaining fingers spread down the rosied expanse. The clearing of his driver’s throat noted him of their surroundings, and he slowly straightened, releasing the fox’s hand gently and crossing that same arm over his waist with a modest bow of a nod. As though he were addressing a lady, but the gesture was not meant in such a satiric way… He caught a glimpse of hesitant green alighting his way from over the elegant extremities, framed by cardinal-colored fringe above, and offered an enigmatic smile.

“Tomorrow, then… Kurama.” That name, again. He couldn’t help it—he adored voicing it, so what was the harm if that last uttering of it had been practically purred? Not giving the kitsune a chance to protest, he glided into his waiting car, only glancing back towards the fox once the driver had closed the door after him. His actions were now safely concealed behind tinted glass, and so he smiled, a hint darker than the last one he’d shown to the redhead. The crow watched lovingly as the youko seemed to startle himself out of his previous state, smiling faintly with that delicious smattering of cerise yet dusted over his cheeks(no matter that it was fading). At that instant, the kitsune seemed to shake himself, once more, hands retreating to pockets as the uniform-clad redhead turned to stride down the concrete pathway(bag yet tucked under his arm), no doubt heading for home. The limo stirred to life, and slowly lumbered away from the curb.

The dark-haired demon reincarnate did not fully settle into his plush seat with an accomplished, smug smile—at least, not until they had driven far enough that the sidewalk where he’d left Kurama had faded well out of sight.

: : :

The children led him through, never letting go of his hands, and he allowed them to guide him along, meeting regally with relatives, sparing them idle bows of the head or simply moving on, gracefully.

What he was not expecting, was the jeweled caravan of a visiting noble to be passing through the main thoroughfare, and he and his companions being shoved off to the side. He cast an irritated glance up towards the caravan, idly growing a few weeds up from their place in the choked dust to catch in the convoy’s wheels. Coolly, he strode out, brushing off the entreating hands of the children for him to stay back, and walked up to the curtained, cushioned, fanciful waste of extravagance. He brushed the satin drapery aside and stepped boldly to the interior. Not missing a beat, the fox settled himself on a pillow and reclined on his side as though he owned the place, resting his chin elegantly atop the heel of a hand.

“My, my. What brings someone of such renown here, I wonder?” He knew his voice was cool, calm, and utterly smooth—all perfectly calculated to bring about just the most fetching shade of purple on the fat noble’s face. Sharp eyes took note of the numerous ornate baubles and trinkets decorating the pig’s body, and he smirked, charming down to the last note even as the boar sputtered for his—

“Guards! Guards!” The youko chuckled, enjoying his fun, and swept up to dangle from the high bar that held up one side of the curtained ‘ceiling’. He was perched upside-down, a hand taut as it curled onto the bar in a secure hold and both feet placed flatly upon the underside of the slender, horizontal metal pole for support. For all the world, he appeared as though there were no more comfortable ‘seat’, holding his own light weight apparently effortlessly with that one arm.

“Now, now, no need to get so belligerent.”

“Who are you?!” The noble demanded, shaking a fist up at the fox. Smirking coolly, the fox revealed a cupped hand, and in it—one or two of the more ostentatious necklaces from around the pig demon’s neck. The boar roared, lunging for the youko, but only managed to catch the curtain with its tusks. The silk was dragged down as playful laughter snuck out to reach the air, and the muffled quality of that arrogant tone did nothing to stem its implications. Notably, as well, it came from outside the ruined drapes.

“The Youko, of Kurama-mori.”

: : :

~Present Time~

He gazed kindly at the eleven-year-old ghost figiting before him. Botan hovered just behind him, at the door—he knew she was watching him like a hawk. The ferry girl did always let herself get so involved with her ‘special cases’… he fought the urge to sigh, firmly keeping his patient smile.

“Kanisawa Meirin-san. Botan informs me that you have had trouble passing on, since your death.”

A mute nod. Well, it was better than nothing… ah, a squeak. Was she speaking?

“K-Koenma-sama… I…” She kept her eyes respectfully to the ground, he noticed. “I… my brother… he… he didn’t act like himself, when he…” He could tell she was fighting with this. No doubt, it was hard, being killed by your own sibling… The demigod’s eyes widened when her own brown ones met with his, far too desperate and entreating—“P-please, Koenma-sama! Something’s not right! ‘niisan is—”

Her next words, whatever they may have been, were cut off by an oni’s shouts echoing from the hall. An unknown voice responded to that shout, and sooner than any of them could blink, an irate-looking spirit had floated through the walls and into the room. He cast a withering glare towards the godling.

“Koenma! Finally! I’ve got a bone to pick with you…” A little late, a purple ogre(presumably, the one who had been shouting), burst into the room, heaving ragged breaths and prostrating himself before the brunet.

“A-a t-t-thou… sand—apolo… gies, Ko-Koen… ma-sa… -sama!” He was fighting hard to get his speech right, wheezing the words with so much extra spit. Both amused and irritated by the display, the brunet wrinkled his nose, but allowed him to speak—well, at least until the ghost interrupted him, again, glaring at the godling.

“Koenma! This is about Kurama! Some creep has been following him, Kanisawa-something-or-other, and the boy’s spirit’s not right, it feels too much like a demon, and—“

“Kanisawa?!” All eyes went to the girl’s spirit, who had gone white. She rushed forward, grabbing the other ghost’s arm(they were both dead, after all), clenching her fingers around it as her voice went high-pitched and pale—“K-Kanisawa Takashi?! E-Eighteen years old? In Tokyo?? My brother?!” The Minamino ghost gazed at her uncertainly, with her voicing of it, indeed, the entire name came back. He’d been following the boy, after all, to his home and everything—it didn’t take an idiot to determine his name. (Especially when the one engraved outside the house was ‘Kanisawa’, and his family members inside of it called him ‘Takashi’.)

“Kanisawa… Takashi? I suppose—“ Koenma’s eyes narrowed, running back and forth between the two spellbound spirits. Kurama’s father, he remembered… the ghost often passed through, around his death date, after visiting the grave. However, it was two months too late, for that…

Suddenly businesslike, the brunet demigod cleared his throat, arms folding behind his back, the clipboard having long ago been handed off to Botan(still lingering, silent, by the now-closed door). He evened a stare on both of the spirits as they now jerked their gazes to him.

“I believe we should discuss this in further detail. Kanisawa-san.” He nodded, acknowledging her, before shifting his attention elsewhere, eyes narrowing. “Minamino-san, if you would please elaborate on your findings? As it involves one of my best tantei and a potentially dangerous human, this could very well be a life-threatening situation…” A grim smile strode out onto the ghost’s face, as he nodded, floating down to a seat and careful not to dislodge the girl’s hand from his arm. She was clinging, eyes frantic, still. She needed the contact—it made no difference that, them both being dead, there was no warmth to feel.

“Yes. Of course…”

~*~To Be Continued~*~