InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Heart Within ❯ Chapter Twenty-Four ( Chapter 26 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: YoukaiFate 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 08.10.2009 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.7K | Visits: 454 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 08.10.2009 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.7K | Visits: 454 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Inuyasha or Yu Yu Hakusho. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.THE HEART WITHINSummary: She has carried vengeance in her shadowed heart for 500 years, sacrificing her self for that dream. Now, Sango just might get her chance… (IY/YYH crossover) A/N: Whew! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? This chapter was a witch to edit. Grrr. But things are starting to move, heh-heh-heh, into place. I already have the next three chapters written, though I may add some more scenes to the next before posting. (Leer)
I want to give a special thank you to Guyute24, whose continued encouragement has been the sweetest gift of all. Thank you, Lady G. You are something truly wonderful, and I am lucky to have gotten to know you through our mutual curiosity for that alluring question of “But what if…”
Boy, doesn’t that set your plot bunnies hopping? o_O
(Fate)
WARNING! SPOILERS FOR YYH CHAPTER BLACK, THE THREE KINGS SAGA, AND EIZOU HAKUSHO - HIEI’S OPENING
WORDS
Aneue - older sister; Kohaku often refers to Sango by this respectful title
miko - Shinto priestess
tennyo - celestial maiden
Chapter Twenty-Four
The road they followed from Raizen’s fortress barely fit the description. Eroded by time and disuse, the gravel that had once provided a firm surface to the thick clay that would turn to soup during the rainy season was scattered through the hardy grass that encroached. They had to pick their way around fallen trees and various bushes that had taken root in the once-cleared space, and often had to camp right on the road itself, as the thick gorse beneath the squat trees was too thorny to try and penetrate.
Three days of steady trudging brought them to the foothills of the mountains, where they left the road to follow a trace of a trail through the dense forest beyond. The track rose steadily, skirting the folds and valleys to cut straight to the pass they sought through the mountains that were a rough barrier between the two kings’ lands. The wild underbrush disappeared, leaving a thick carpet of spongy grass between trees that were as old as those in the Forest of Fools, but squat and bent from the fierce winds that howled down from the rocky heights. The trunks were a strange mix of plum and navy that grayed with age. The leaves were small, but abundant, and of such a dark green as to appear blue in the distance. Branches twined above their heads, rarely giving a glimpse of the pink sky. They walked in perpetual gloom, in an empty forest devoid of the smaller life forms that usually abounded in such verdant hills. It was eerie, as the only sound but for their muffled footfalls was the whispering of the leaves in the wind, which rose and fell with a mournful, lonely sound that did nothing to soothe Sango’s troubled thoughts.
Withdrawn and edgy, Sango hoped her companions understood why she needed to wrap herself around the restless irritation that stirred so uneasily within her. She kept her words short and few, regretting the curtness in her tone but unable to help it. She was anxious for this tedious journey to be over, so that she could finally realize an end to it all. Not just this journey, but to everything: Naraku, her brother, the bitterness and rage and vengeance. She was ashamed of her impatience, but the truth was that she just wanted it done, and at times, hardly cared in what way. She silently asked Kohaku’s bound spirit for forgiveness, and her guilt often took its revenge by plaguing her fitful sleep with nightmares.
Faces were called out of the darkness of her dreams, taunting her with their memory. Naraku’s mocking laughter snaked through the softer reminisces of a relatively carefree childhood, bleeding the sweet memories with the cringing shame and horror that followed in a tidal wave of blood and betrayal that left her heart heavy in her chest as she woke bathed in an icy sweat. Ghosts from the past were sharpened into too ready a recall, as if the stirring up of her memories by Seitei had brought them out of the darkness to stand stark in the light of harsh truth. Bitterness often rose in her throat with the sour taste of bile, adding poignancy to a darkness that had ever seethed inside of her, angry over the fate the gods had dealt her.
She was just so tired of it all, and felt shame for that, too. The quiet company of the two demons she traveled with recalled times when she had taken such simple companionship for granted, accepting others as readily as she had her beloved Kirara. The comparison of then and now and the many, empty, lonely years between was a great gulf that made her angry for no truly worthy reason. That bitterness was worse than even the cringing regret she had for desiring closure, in whatever way possible.
Heart clenching inside her chest, Sango’s mind cried out in agony, *Kohaku!* She reached a shaking hand towards him, a futile gesture of plea and denial. Loving him and loathing him for the terrible creature he had become, she could not tear her eyes away from the small boy who stood untouched by the bloody carnage all around him. He glanced back at her, the empty look in his eyes dissolving for a moment into the tentative uncertainty of his soft smile.
“Aneue,” he said, with that heartbreakingly familiar hitch near the end.
“Kohaku,” she whispered, and then flinched as his smile faded, his brown eyes darkening as the shadow of Naraku claimed him once more. He raised the bloody scythe in his hand and she read her death in the throaty laughter that rose mockingly around her as a pair of icy blue eyes formed in the growing miasma overhead. The glint of lascivious delight in their crimsoning depths made her shudder as she raised empty hands in a feeble attempt to ward off the coming agony…
Sango jerked, waking with a ragged gasp as her heart drummed loudly in her ears. She blinked, confused by the stillness surrounding her as the vivid nightmare slowly receded into the reality of their quiet camp. Drawing a trembling hand through the sweaty tangle of her bangs, she shook her head, trying to dispel the mocking shadows that still haunted her. Closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, she threw the blanket of her cloak back and got shakily to her feet. She stealthily retreated, not wanting to disturb the others with her burning need to be alone.
She did not go far---she wasn’t that foolish. But they had camped near an icy trickle of a stream that widened and deepened further along into a small pool created by the rocky tumble of a few broken stones. A flat rock jutting out over the small pool provided a good seat. Alone and without the need to appear strong in front of the others, Sango drew her knees up so she could wearily rest her forehead against them. Wrapping her arms tight around her bent legs, she let out a long, shuddering breath. The dream had affected her more than she realized, and it took some time for heartbeat to slow and the reactive adrenaline to drain away.
She felt a distinctive aura materialize some yards behind her, back among the trees, but was surprised it was he and not the kitsune who had followed her.
“You dreamed again.”
“Yes.” She begrudged the admission, and wished he would just go away and leave her alone.
He didn’t, though, and the silence dragged out unbearably until she snapped, forehead still pressed to her knees, “You can go. I won’t be long, and I don’t need a babysitter.”
Contrary as always, he didn’t take exception and leave as she was trying to goad him to. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel the weight of his gaze across her stiff shoulders. She sighed, too tired to deal with his disdain, and tried to ignore him.
The silence lengthened, only broken by the faint burble of the creek below her and the whispered stir of the leaves above. The wind scattered her bangs across her cheeks as she finally raised her head, staring at the trees on the opposite bank without truly seeing them. Her whisper was almost too low to hear as she admitted, “It was my brother.”
Again, he didn’t say anything. What could he, really? Offers of false sympathy would not have comforted her, and he was not one to do something so inane. But he didn’t leave, either, and the fact that he stayed silent sentinel to her quiet pain comforted her more than he could possibly know.
She was startled when he finally broke the silence. “I have a sister.”
It was simply a statement of fact, with no emotion to mar it. It was made the more poignant by the lack.
Curious, for the apparition was not one to ever reveal anything about himself, Sango half-turned to look back at him over her left shoulder. His black trench coat blurred into the murky shadows, dimming the thick collar at his throat to gray. His red eyes, faintly glowing in reaction to the darkness, were not even looking at her, but somewhere off to her right. The wind tugged restlessly at the spiky ends of his hair, scattering the white strands among the midnight.
“She doesn’t know who I am.”
“Why?” Sango asked softly, her brows drawing together in confusion. His eyes abruptly focused on hers, and she held back a reflexive shiver at the icy finality in them.
“She doesn’t need to.”
“But---”
He cut her protest off with a sharp rejoinder, as if that explained all. It did, actually, but he could not know why it would for her. “I made a promise.”
Biting her lip, Sango turned her head away, looking back at the restless trees on the far side of the bank. Her eyes closed as she whispered, “I, too, made a promise.”
He mistook her, for he said simply, “We will find him.”
“Yes,” Sango agreed quietly, knowing that they would. “But he can never know. That was my promise.” Her eyes opened, the emotion that was missing in his voice so rough in hers. “It’s probably better that way.”
And it was. For she could only remind Kohaku of a past he would be better to forget. She had always wondered how she might protect him from that, and give him a fresh start with no memories of the horrific acts that he had done under Naraku’s control. Unburdened by the past pain which her presence could only remind him of, he might have a chance at a normal life.
She was actually grateful to Shigure for taking the burden of decision from her, because she could take Kohaku to her friends, Kagome and Inuyasha---who knew his past and would not turn him away for the sake of their former friendship. Kagome’s compassionate nature would never let her, and there was even the chance, with her miko’s power to purify the Jewel, that she could heal the shard’s dark influence on Kohaku’s spirit. And maybe, between Kagome’s healing abilities and the advances of modern medicine, one day even cure him of the need for it.
A deliberate scuff against the dry leaves behind them made Sango stiffen. She was not surprised when Kurama emerged from the forest. The color was leached from the kitsune by the night, turning his red hair into a dark shadow against the pale grays of his clothing.
“Anei? Are you all right?” His concern was touching, but his use of a name that was not truly hers was irritating. Perhaps it was the reminder that she could not admit it to her old friends. But her promise to Shigure had only been for those she had known, not those she might come to know, and only the long habit of centuries had kept her silent long past the need for it. Seitei’s words suddenly flitted across her scattered thoughts, and Sango flushed.
Looking away, she said shortly, “That’s not my name.”
The silence seemed to stretch out longer than it actually did as she paused, the word sounding so very strange after so long denying it. “It’s Sango.”
Hiei snorted.
Sango shot the apparition a disgruntled look. His scornful gaze flicked over the kistune when he admonished tiredly, “Hiei---”
Wanting to break the sudden tension she felt she had caused, Sango started babbling. “It’s not that big a deal. Kinda stupid, really. ‘Shadow’ was a nickname given to me by some of King Yama’s soldiers, and it just sort of stuck, I guess. It doesn’t matter, really. I don’t know why I suddenly felt like telling you---I guess I just felt like you should know.”
Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip, staring down at her hugged knees.
Hiei sneered. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter what we call her, Kurama.” He paused, his red eyes boring hard into her back before he took off for the trees. “What really matters is what she calls herself.”
Sango flinched. Damn him, he knew just how to stab right inside her heart with the insightful truth of his harsh words. Her eyes grew troubled as she stared at the wind-ruffled trees across from her. She felt Kurama draw alongside her, his canvas shoes making no sound against the thick grass. She looked up into eyes too dark to read, but his smile was gentle.
“Thank you…Sango.”
His use of a name that had not been hers in far too long brought a second stab of some unknown emotion to her heart, and she crookedly returned his smile as she said simply, “Thanks, Kurama, for---understanding.”
He extended a hand, which she gratefully took as she stood up. His palm was dry against hers. He paused, looking down at her, and Sango wished she could read the expression hidden from her by the darkness. For a moment, she felt as if…but no, she had been mistaken, for he was stepping back, his hand slipping free of hers as he said casually, “It grows late, and we will cross into the mountains tomorrow. There may be snow in the pass. Even this late in the year, the storms rarely descend from the heights---one of the reasons Raizen’s territory is so dry. But we should get all the rest we can tonight, before tackling them.”
Sango nodded, welcoming the calculated distraction for what is was. There had been enough raw emotions tonight. Perhaps Seitei had been right---and maybe it was time to let go of more than just her name. Like trying to deny just how much Hiei and Kurama’s friendship had come to mean to her. She had spent years keeping herself carefully separated from others. Maybe it was time she took a chance and let down her guard---if just a little.
Perhaps that would be enough.
He’d gotten an 89 on the latest exam, which had been returned today in class, and he’d been so ecstatic that he’d forgotten to return Kagome’s notes, which had helped him prepare for it. That was easily remedied; it just took a bit to walk all the way to the shrine, which lay in the opposite direction of his home. But he wouldn’t mind seeing that doggy-dude again. Despite having a girly-kind of name, that loudmouth reminded Kuwabara of his friend Yusuke, who he’d been missing more than he’d ever admit to anyone. Besides, he might be asked to stay for dinner. Since Shizuru would be working late tonight, he wouldn’t mind trading a frozen TV dinner for some of Mrs. Higurashi’s home-cooking---which was every bit as good as Kagome had promised.
“Kuwabara?”
Startled, the young man turned, his smile turning sheepish as he finally recognized the tall teenager. Koenma’s new form still took some getting used to. He was more used to seeing the minor deity as a floating baby constantly sucking on a pacifier. It looked weird not to have the binky hanging off the demi-god’s pursed lips. Rubbing the back of his neck, Kuwabara said, “Hey, Koenma.”
“How ya been, Kuwabara?” Koenma asked, companionably falling into step beside him. Kuwabara eyed the tall young man, noting the quietly expensive sports coat and matching slacks in tasteful beige. His dusky orange button-down shirt clashed with the purple headband he wore to hide the “Jr” tattooed on his forehead.
“Good. Studying hard. Shizuru made me promise I’d get into a good high school, and has me taking a summer class. How ’bout you, Koenma? Haven’t seen you much lately.”
Koenma’s light brown eyes looked around warily. “Ah, well, I’ve been lying low. My father isn’t exactly the forgiving type, and disobeying him to protect Yusuke hasn’t exactly won me any Brownie points.”
“He’s mad, huh?” Kuwabara gave the prince a sympathetic look.
“That’s a little bit of an understatement,” Koenma said dryly. “Botan manages to send me messages from time to time, and the King isn’t exactly happy about my defection, even though Yusuke is now stuck in Demon World.”
“Hey! I thought you said we could free Yusuke any time we needed to---” Kuwabara stopped in his tracks, an angry scowl darkening his blunt features.
“We can,” Koenma hissed, looking around nervously at the scene they were causing. “Keep your voice down, Kuwabara! You want to attract attention? My father has spies everywhere.”
“But you said---”
“I know what I said! Come on, let’s keep walking. Where are we going, anyway?” Koenma nudged the big lug to get him moving again.
Disgruntled, Kuwabara replied, “Well, I’m going to the Higurashi shrine to return some of the notes I borrowed from Kagome. Hey, you should meet her. She’s got the same spiritual power that Yusuke has---had.” He grinned at his correction, and Koenma gave him a questioning look. “Well, Yusuke’s power is different now. Weird feeling. Like it isn’t as clean as it used to be, you know?”
“You do have a powerful spiritual sense, Kuwabara. I’d forgotten how powerful,” Koenma mused.
Kuwabara shrugged. “I’ve always been able to see the weird stuff. Shizuru, too. She says our dead Irish granny was some kind of wise woman or something. I just know Yusuke’s power feels different now---”
“That would be his awakened jyaki mixing with his spiritual energy,” Koenma explained.
“’Kay. Made him stronger, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Koenma looked pensive. “That’s one of the reasons my father fears him so much.”
“Why? It isn’t like Yusuke would go all demon-crazy or something. He’s on our side, fighting the good fight,” Kuwabara said staunchly.
“Yeah.” Koenma didn’t look totally convinced, but when Kuwabara drew breath to protest further, the deity quickly inserted, “So this girl---Kagome, was it? She’s like Yusuke? In what way?”
Distracted, Kuwabara said, “Well, she’s got an incredible aura---like Yusuke. And it’s all clean and shiny like his used to be. Inuyasha called her a miko---”
“Inuyasha?” Koenma asked curiously.
“Oh, yeah.” Kuwabara grinned. “He’s half a dog, or something. A half-demon. Like Yusuke, ’cept he was born that way, and didn’t have to die to become one. And get this, Koenma, he’s from like five hundred years in the past! Isn’t that crazy? He came through a dry well, or Kagome fell down it, or something---”
“What?” Koenma stopped dead in his tracks, his brown eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, isn’t that crazy? But Souta---that’s Kagome’s little brother, he likes to play soccer, he’s a good kid---he said it was true, that their cat, Buyo---who’s old and fat but still a good kitty, he let me pet him for hours---though Eikichi got mad when I got back home, kept sniffing me and went sulking off under the bed. It took me forever to get her back out. I had to bribe her with the tuna, and Shizuru was mad that I opened all three cans, and Eikichi yakked all over the rug after eating all of ’em, and…”
Kuwabara trailed off as Koenma held one hand up and planted the other on his forehead, as if he was growing dizzy.
“Eh, Koenma, you okay?” Kuwabara ventured uneasily, not knowing what the hell he could do if something was wrong. He wasn’t good with stuff like that, not like his sweet Yukina.
“I think we need to go someplace we can talk, Kuwabara,” Koenma said under his hand. “I mean, really talk.” Looking around, the prince spied an ice cream parlor. “C’mon, Kuwabara. It’ll be my treat.”
“Oh, okay.” Kuwabara was more than willing to go along if the binky-boy was paying. “But I want two scoops!”
The goat track they followed was treacherous and made slow going as they carefully edged their way around one washout after another. Kurama led as the heaviest, testing the path carefully before placing his full weight upon it. Sango tried to put her feet exactly where the nimble kitsune did, but his stride was longer than hers. She stumbled a time or two, barely saving herself with a quick grab for the rough rock. She was glad enough of Hiei’s silent presence behind her. Although the short demon could’ve easily jumped the steep ascent in a matter of seconds, he trailed after them, where his unnatural speed might save either her or Kurama if they slipped and fell.
The constant rain finally let up as the track wound around a last outcrop of stony rubble, disappearing behind a craggy protrusion that stuck out like a giant, stubborn chin. The going was tricky, for the rough surface was slick. Loose rocks turned under her boots, gravel skittering down the mountain face behind her. Sango had to keep all of her concentration on creeping past the out-flung rock, bracing her weight on her bent arms as the path narrowed to mere toe-holds and she had to use her hands to anchor herself against the stone.
Past the protrusion was a mean scramble through loose shale that cut her palms as she literally crawled up it, pebbles showering in her wake. She saw Kurama glance back at them, his red hair brilliant against the muted green folds of his over-robe, which he had folded shawl-like around his head and shoulders to stave off the rain. He made some sign to Hiei, who suddenly reappeared at the top of the steep summit, extending an arm down to help the kitsune up the last verge, which was almost a vertical incline of rough rock.
Sango inched over to the spot the kitsune had just left, feeling her way by touch more than sight. The stone firmed beneath her, and she looked up, extending her hand to grasp the calloused palm of the waiting fire demon. He braced his weight, the muscles bulging under the bandages along his right arm as he literally hauled her up and over that final hurdle with an ease that left her breathless. Her boots skidded out from under her at the last minute, and it was only the firm anchor of his arm that kept her from sliding back down the mountain.
“Thanks,” she managed to gasp as she got her feet back under her. She glanced around the windswept plateau, which spread in a sort of shallow bowl for several yards in the unnatural crack that had split one mountain into two, creating the pass they had just climbed. A few hardy scrubs had taken root here and there in the mostly limestone-looking rock, which was stained a darker brown by the earlier shower. The clouds hovered, their lavender bellies traced with swollen purple shadows as muffled thunder rumbled in the distance. Kurama had already crossed the small space to glance over the far edge, possibly scoping out the best path for their descent.
About to release her hand, Hiei paused, his fingers tightening on the ends of hers as he abruptly turned it over. Sango looked back curiously, surprised as the rough pad of his thumb lightly crossed her palm, which was dotted with blood.
“You’re bleeding,” he accused, as if he personally affronted by the fact.
“Only a little.” Sango shrugged, wondering what the big deal was. The shallow wounds stung, but would heal within a few hours. She tugged lightly, but he didn’t take the hint. Ignoring her frown, he stared at her opened palm, drawing it closer. A startling thought occurred to her, one she remembered Inuyasha doing, and she burst out, scandalized, “You’re not going to lick it, are you?”
Hiei dropped her hand like it was on fire. Abruptly turning on one heel, he gave her a scathing look before vanishing.Immediately contrite, Sango looked anxiously around for the apparition’s reappearance, intending to go and apologize, but Kurama stopped her with a smile.
“Don’t worry,” he said, holding out a bottle of antiseptic he had pulled from his pack.
“But---” Sango still felt like an ass.
“He’ll get over himself soon enough,” Kurama said conspiratorially, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in amusement.
“You presume too much, fox.” The growl came from some distance above them as Hiei’s black silhouette appeared on the scanty ledge up on their right.
“Heh.” The corner of Kurama’s mouth quirked as the short apparition turned to scan the distant hills. The kistune only placed the bottle in Sango’s palm, curling her fingers around it. “Best to take care of those. The risk of infection is not to be taken lightly, even with our quick youkai healing.”
Sango nodded, accepting the gentle reproof. Easing her pack from her shoulders with a grimace, she sat down on a convenient, if chillingly damp, rock and used a corner of the gauze the fox gave her to dab at the various abrasions. She winced, for the raw alcohol of the monks’ antiseptic stung. She lightly bandaged her hands before returning the medical supplies to the fox, who was tapping a finger against his chin as he scanned the cloudy skies above them.
“Kurama?” Sango hesitated to disturb him, but the fox smiled vaguely to reassure her, eyes still on the lowering clouds.
“I wonder if we should stay here and rest.” He looked around the windswept bowl with a frown. “It’s not the ideal campsite, but this might be the last chance we have before crossing the border…”
*Into enemy territory,* Sango finished his unspoken thought, and shivered.
Although the cold did not affect him, it was annoying they were all huddled in this tiny space like rats in a hole instead of continuing on. But Kurama was probably right that they should snatch what rest they could before venturing into the foothills of Mukuro’s land. Who knew what would be waiting for them on the other side---Mukuro was hardly as picky as Raizen when it came to his territory. The king certainly wasn’t as particular or exclusionary as the Toushin. He’d let any trash in, as long as they survived the often brutal violence that erupted between separate bands and villages. Not that that was anything new to Hiei---life in Demon World had always been ruled by survival of the fittest, and there was nothing wrong with that. Those too stupid or weak to survive didn’t deserve to do so, and Mukuro was nothing if not a traditionalist.
A chuff of noise made Hiei’s head turn, and he negligently watched as the taiji-ya, whose bedroll was between his spot and Kurama’s, scowled down at her dirty sock, which was worn at the heel. Peeling it off, she rubbed at the blister starting to form. It would be gone by morning, of course, but if her boot kept rubbing the skin there, it would be a continual irritation that might slow them down. Nostrils flaring with impatience, Hiei gave the kitsune a sharp glance.
*Do you have any spare bandages in that U-haul you call a pack, fox?*
Kurama raised an inquiring brow, though he kept his reply equally silent. *Do you need to rewrap the Dragon’s seal on your arm? I don’t know if I have enough---*
Hiei responded with an impatient look. *No. It’s for the hanyou.*
“Oh?” Turning to the taiji-ya, Kurama immediately spotted the problem. Plucking a small roll of gauze from his pack, he leaned over. “Sango? Does it hurt? Do you need me to lance it?”
Disgusted with the kitsune’s patent over-concern and rather irritated by the taiji-ya’s surprised gratitude as she took the gauze but not the kitsune’s offer of treatment, Hiei closed his eyes and waited for Kurama to quit fussing over the girl. He heard the scrape of tearing cloth and opened his eyes only wide enough to watch her deftly cut through the gauze and wrap the bottom of her foot. He kept watching under lowered lids as she made a face at her dirty sock, shoving it back inside her discarded boot before taking the other off to rub her foot and wiggle her toes. She had surprisingly dainty feet, with high arches. The pink polish the stupid detective had so boorishly pointed out was mostly scraped off. She frowned at it, her thumb rubbing over the faded color on her big toe, and Hiei wondered what she was thinking about.
And then wondered what in the hell he was thinking of in wondering that. Gods, he was losing it. That damn nuisance of a Spirit Detective was still influencing him, even when he wasn’t around. Mentally shuddering at the thought, Hiei turned his eyes away with a dark scowl, meeting Kurama’s steady green gaze.
*And what do you find so amusing, fox?* Hiei growled into the redhead’s mind, but the fox only smiled enigmatically, tossing over a withered rue-pear that the fire apparition neatly nicked out of the air. Sango’s head came up at the sudden movement, and Kurama’s smile grew noticeably warmer as he passed her another. She thanked the kitsune, accepting the dried jerky and ball of rice that were standard fare for dinner. She passed them on to Hiei, who ate his share with his usual dispatch, neatly cleaning the sticky rice from his fingers with his tongue. Eying him, Sango leaned over and whispered to Kurama, who nodded.
Glaring at the exchange, Hiei was discomfited when the kitsune dug back inside his pack and casually offered him more of the jerky. Never one to pass up food---for there had been plenty of times in his childhood he had gone without---Hiei took it with a suspicious scowl.
Sango suddenly grinned. “Is that your ‘thank you’ glare, Hiei?”
Kurama laughed and Hiei’s scowl darkened. “That one’s his ‘I’m going to kill you slowly,’ glare.” The kitsune sat back, his manner droll.
“Hn.” Annoyed by their amusement at his expense, Hiei ignored them to strip the tough jerky in three quick bites, making certain his sharp fangs showed as he did so to remind them he was not someone it was wise to mess with.
“Is that supposed to impress?” Sango’s light teasing made Hiei’s red eyes snap over in surprise. Her dark eyes were lightened to a warm chocolate hue. “I’ve seen bigger fangs on a kitten.”
Kurama muffled a laugh in his sleeve as Hiei’s gaze grew frigid.
The taiji-ya relented, explaining, “Well, Kirara was a nekomata. Her true form was a bit larger than her kitten one.”
“Kirara?” Kurama raised an elegant brow.
Sango faltered, a flash of pain darting through her eyes before she said lightly, “She was my friend and companion since before I can even remember. Almost like a mother to me and my brother, Kohaku, since our own died at his birth. Kirara was always there to guide and protect us. She…died in that last battle with Naraku.”
She dropped her eyes to her hands, slowly tracing a calloused fingertip across the wrinkled skin of the pear she held uneaten in her palms. Silence descended, and the patter of the rain overhead was too loud in the sudden tension. Hiei disliked the stiff line of the girl’s narrow shoulders, and said sharply to distract himself from it, “Do you know where Mukuro’s fortress lies, Kurama?”
“I have a rough idea.” The kitsune pursed his lips, his eyes glancing from the taiji-ya, who had looked up in sudden interest, to the apparition, who carefully kept his expression blank. Hiei knew he wasn’t fooling the fox any, but he didn’t care what Kurama thought. Let him ponder the reasons for his interference---it had worked, hadn’t it? For the girl was now leaning forward to study the rough map Kurama was detailing on his bedroll, using the rumpled wrinkles to indicate positions with his finger.
Hiei let his mind wander, as he knew well the key defenses of the demon king’s territory. There was really nothing more significant than a large village or small town within Mukuro’s borders, as few of the rough primitives who made their home there could quit fighting long enough to cooperate and make treaties. It was all very neat and traditional, and the king played one faction against another, deliberately inciting the blood feuds that ran deep among the various youkai clans. But then, Mukuro was rather known for his vindictiveness and petty cruelty. As long as his rule went unchallenged and he could conscript his massive army from among the clan ranks, the king did not overly concern himself with how those under him conducted their day-to-day affairs. The king even welcomed the banished or hunted of other realms to his. He recruited many of the cutthroats and murderers to his army, which was known for its bloodthirsty infighting. Rank was based on those who could keep it long enough against any challenger to actually make use of it to command, and only the king’s rumored Elite Guard served the rapacious demon with any true loyalty or oaths of fealty.
The two murmuring voices blended together as Kurama explained what Hiei already knew, and the demon lightly dozed as he grew bored with the conversation. Eventually, the light died as the hidden sun set, and both hanyou folded themselves inside their sleeping bags. Not needing to rest as weak humans did, Hiei kept brooding watch, listening to the rain scatter against the layered leaves overhead as the wind whistled through the mountains. He could hear the soft snores of the taiji-ya, and smirked, for even Kurama did not feel so secure in his surroundings as to make such a noise. She was all but unaware of it, which was even more ironic.
His eyes flicked over her, though there was not much to see under the muffled darkness of her cloak. She slept curled on her side, facing him, her head pillowed on one arm. Her bangs were tangled across her cheek, the longer strands of her thick ponytail spilling over her shoulder and back. She looked too innocent while sleeping, like a child. It should have irritated him, but the vulnerability of that innocence was almost…appealing.
*Appealing. Hn.* Closing his eyes, he pulled up the memory of her standing in the light of the setting sun in the gorse-choked desert as they crossed Raizen’s lands. She had had her eyes closed then, too, her very being stretching out towards the sun as if she could soak up its warmth. There had been something so appealing as she stood there, her face bathed in the fire of the setting sun, the brown strands in her black hair turned to burnt umber as her lithe, acutely feminine body was sharpened into shadowed outline by the sun’s last rays. She had looked like a tennyo of fire, a phoenix rising up out of the ashes of the shadows at her feet as the light danced all around her. She had somehow summoned the jyaki in the air to her, merging with its sun-warmed breath. He could not contain his reaction to it, for she had unknowingly drawn him and every other damn demon there along with it.
Hiei suppressed a growl as jealousy spiked through him at the memory of the others’ reactions. He could not contain the irritation, then, either---though he was rather smug that it was he she had locked eyes with, and none of the others. Until Kurama had adroitly insinuated himself, breaking the silent tension between them by distracting her. Hiei was actually grateful to the kitsune for interfering, for it had given him the chance to get a hold of himself and rein in the raw desire that had enflamed him with the beguiling sight.
He was not one to let his more primitive emotions rule him; he had done enough of that as a child. He might have seen her uncanny effect on him in the desert as dangerous to his self-control, but he was rather arrogantly assured that he could control his raw reaction to her startling appeal as ruthlessly as he did any other. He was not a fool to give in to his baser instincts. He was a past master at controlling them, and now was neither the time or place to give in to such desires.
Not that she would welcome such a thing from him. He had little to recommend him as a lover, as he had never found it that urgent to relieve himself of his virginity in any of the arms of the various female youkai who’d offered. He didn’t have time for such distractions---although he was far from innocent of the logistics involved in the act. He’d been raised by bandits, some of whom spent their coin as quickly as they could on drink and women. The coupling in the corner of a raunchy tavern that reeked of filth and vomit had never given him the desire to know why so many of the men seemed so eager for it. His wandering after, and his contempt for the cold women who had cast him out as a mere babe, had never given him much respect for a sex often weaker than he. He could only despise that weakness, for strength was ever his own driving aim.
Not that he couldn’t appreciate beauty. There was something almost achingly unattainable in true perfection. Like the vast sweep of an ancient forest, or the glittering blue ice of a frozen tundra, the sinuous curves of the Dragon he contained, or the fitful play of lightning across a violet sky. The beauty of a woman---there was something almost achingly unattainable in that as well. The delicacy and grace of their movements, the soft lines of their hidden curves, the sweep of a coy look under lowered lashes as the petals of their lips parted invitingly into a knowing smile…
But he had been denied that by his very birth among women who had forever renounced men. The koorime had been beautiful in their frigid way, as his twin sister was beautiful in her gentleness and kindness. But still, it was something inaccessible to him, twisted as he was by being born with a nature in direct opposition to his breed.
He was haunted by the memory of a woman he had rescued some time in the past, during his long wandering after finally locating his mother‘s village. Following the strange draw of repressed energy, he had fought through a golden dragon’s barriers to find a naked woman bound in chains in the heart of a crystal demon. Shattering her free of her confinement, he had extended his hand to her as she rose, the deep sadness in her eyes calling out to him. She had reached for him as well, and their fingers had almost brushed, but delicate wings had unfolded from her back and she had made quick her escape---afraid, perhaps, of being caught again. Her last look was one of regret and apology just before she turned to flee.
Somehow, that memory signified everything ever unattainable to him, and he grew uneasy as he relived the poignancy of it. But most alarming of all was when the pale youkai turned to face him, it wasn’t with the beautifully remote features of the swan demon with her ethereal blue eyes, but the dark, haunted eyes of the slayer who lay sleeping beside him…
Hiei jerked back in surprise, and his eyes opened in confusion as the damp darkness of the leafy tent surrounded him. He must have nodded off, and somehow his memories had twisted around themselves in his dreams. His shoulders twitched, and he frowned. Eyes flicking over the girl who lay beyond him, he brooded long into the night as the rain-ridden wind continued to moan desolately around them.
I want to give a special thank you to Guyute24, whose continued encouragement has been the sweetest gift of all. Thank you, Lady G. You are something truly wonderful, and I am lucky to have gotten to know you through our mutual curiosity for that alluring question of “But what if…”
Boy, doesn’t that set your plot bunnies hopping? o_O
(Fate)
WARNING! SPOILERS FOR YYH CHAPTER BLACK, THE THREE KINGS SAGA, AND EIZOU HAKUSHO - HIEI’S OPENING
WORDS
Aneue - older sister; Kohaku often refers to Sango by this respectful title
miko - Shinto priestess
tennyo - celestial maiden
Chapter Twenty-Four
The road they followed from Raizen’s fortress barely fit the description. Eroded by time and disuse, the gravel that had once provided a firm surface to the thick clay that would turn to soup during the rainy season was scattered through the hardy grass that encroached. They had to pick their way around fallen trees and various bushes that had taken root in the once-cleared space, and often had to camp right on the road itself, as the thick gorse beneath the squat trees was too thorny to try and penetrate.
Three days of steady trudging brought them to the foothills of the mountains, where they left the road to follow a trace of a trail through the dense forest beyond. The track rose steadily, skirting the folds and valleys to cut straight to the pass they sought through the mountains that were a rough barrier between the two kings’ lands. The wild underbrush disappeared, leaving a thick carpet of spongy grass between trees that were as old as those in the Forest of Fools, but squat and bent from the fierce winds that howled down from the rocky heights. The trunks were a strange mix of plum and navy that grayed with age. The leaves were small, but abundant, and of such a dark green as to appear blue in the distance. Branches twined above their heads, rarely giving a glimpse of the pink sky. They walked in perpetual gloom, in an empty forest devoid of the smaller life forms that usually abounded in such verdant hills. It was eerie, as the only sound but for their muffled footfalls was the whispering of the leaves in the wind, which rose and fell with a mournful, lonely sound that did nothing to soothe Sango’s troubled thoughts.
Withdrawn and edgy, Sango hoped her companions understood why she needed to wrap herself around the restless irritation that stirred so uneasily within her. She kept her words short and few, regretting the curtness in her tone but unable to help it. She was anxious for this tedious journey to be over, so that she could finally realize an end to it all. Not just this journey, but to everything: Naraku, her brother, the bitterness and rage and vengeance. She was ashamed of her impatience, but the truth was that she just wanted it done, and at times, hardly cared in what way. She silently asked Kohaku’s bound spirit for forgiveness, and her guilt often took its revenge by plaguing her fitful sleep with nightmares.
Faces were called out of the darkness of her dreams, taunting her with their memory. Naraku’s mocking laughter snaked through the softer reminisces of a relatively carefree childhood, bleeding the sweet memories with the cringing shame and horror that followed in a tidal wave of blood and betrayal that left her heart heavy in her chest as she woke bathed in an icy sweat. Ghosts from the past were sharpened into too ready a recall, as if the stirring up of her memories by Seitei had brought them out of the darkness to stand stark in the light of harsh truth. Bitterness often rose in her throat with the sour taste of bile, adding poignancy to a darkness that had ever seethed inside of her, angry over the fate the gods had dealt her.
She was just so tired of it all, and felt shame for that, too. The quiet company of the two demons she traveled with recalled times when she had taken such simple companionship for granted, accepting others as readily as she had her beloved Kirara. The comparison of then and now and the many, empty, lonely years between was a great gulf that made her angry for no truly worthy reason. That bitterness was worse than even the cringing regret she had for desiring closure, in whatever way possible.
ooOOooOOooOOoo
The sobbing pleas of the damned and dying were granted no mercy in the empty brown eyes that swept over them as the wicked edge of the scythe in his raised hand glittered bloodily in the reflected fires that rose over the ruined village. The scythe curved down with a faint whisper of broken air, and the terrified screams were silenced forever as the rattle of the returning chain mocked the blood that splattered in a wide pattern across the dry dirt.Heart clenching inside her chest, Sango’s mind cried out in agony, *Kohaku!* She reached a shaking hand towards him, a futile gesture of plea and denial. Loving him and loathing him for the terrible creature he had become, she could not tear her eyes away from the small boy who stood untouched by the bloody carnage all around him. He glanced back at her, the empty look in his eyes dissolving for a moment into the tentative uncertainty of his soft smile.
“Aneue,” he said, with that heartbreakingly familiar hitch near the end.
“Kohaku,” she whispered, and then flinched as his smile faded, his brown eyes darkening as the shadow of Naraku claimed him once more. He raised the bloody scythe in his hand and she read her death in the throaty laughter that rose mockingly around her as a pair of icy blue eyes formed in the growing miasma overhead. The glint of lascivious delight in their crimsoning depths made her shudder as she raised empty hands in a feeble attempt to ward off the coming agony…
Sango jerked, waking with a ragged gasp as her heart drummed loudly in her ears. She blinked, confused by the stillness surrounding her as the vivid nightmare slowly receded into the reality of their quiet camp. Drawing a trembling hand through the sweaty tangle of her bangs, she shook her head, trying to dispel the mocking shadows that still haunted her. Closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, she threw the blanket of her cloak back and got shakily to her feet. She stealthily retreated, not wanting to disturb the others with her burning need to be alone.
She did not go far---she wasn’t that foolish. But they had camped near an icy trickle of a stream that widened and deepened further along into a small pool created by the rocky tumble of a few broken stones. A flat rock jutting out over the small pool provided a good seat. Alone and without the need to appear strong in front of the others, Sango drew her knees up so she could wearily rest her forehead against them. Wrapping her arms tight around her bent legs, she let out a long, shuddering breath. The dream had affected her more than she realized, and it took some time for heartbeat to slow and the reactive adrenaline to drain away.
She felt a distinctive aura materialize some yards behind her, back among the trees, but was surprised it was he and not the kitsune who had followed her.
“You dreamed again.”
“Yes.” She begrudged the admission, and wished he would just go away and leave her alone.
He didn’t, though, and the silence dragged out unbearably until she snapped, forehead still pressed to her knees, “You can go. I won’t be long, and I don’t need a babysitter.”
Contrary as always, he didn’t take exception and leave as she was trying to goad him to. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel the weight of his gaze across her stiff shoulders. She sighed, too tired to deal with his disdain, and tried to ignore him.
The silence lengthened, only broken by the faint burble of the creek below her and the whispered stir of the leaves above. The wind scattered her bangs across her cheeks as she finally raised her head, staring at the trees on the opposite bank without truly seeing them. Her whisper was almost too low to hear as she admitted, “It was my brother.”
Again, he didn’t say anything. What could he, really? Offers of false sympathy would not have comforted her, and he was not one to do something so inane. But he didn’t leave, either, and the fact that he stayed silent sentinel to her quiet pain comforted her more than he could possibly know.
She was startled when he finally broke the silence. “I have a sister.”
It was simply a statement of fact, with no emotion to mar it. It was made the more poignant by the lack.
Curious, for the apparition was not one to ever reveal anything about himself, Sango half-turned to look back at him over her left shoulder. His black trench coat blurred into the murky shadows, dimming the thick collar at his throat to gray. His red eyes, faintly glowing in reaction to the darkness, were not even looking at her, but somewhere off to her right. The wind tugged restlessly at the spiky ends of his hair, scattering the white strands among the midnight.
“She doesn’t know who I am.”
“Why?” Sango asked softly, her brows drawing together in confusion. His eyes abruptly focused on hers, and she held back a reflexive shiver at the icy finality in them.
“She doesn’t need to.”
“But---”
He cut her protest off with a sharp rejoinder, as if that explained all. It did, actually, but he could not know why it would for her. “I made a promise.”
Biting her lip, Sango turned her head away, looking back at the restless trees on the far side of the bank. Her eyes closed as she whispered, “I, too, made a promise.”
He mistook her, for he said simply, “We will find him.”
“Yes,” Sango agreed quietly, knowing that they would. “But he can never know. That was my promise.” Her eyes opened, the emotion that was missing in his voice so rough in hers. “It’s probably better that way.”
And it was. For she could only remind Kohaku of a past he would be better to forget. She had always wondered how she might protect him from that, and give him a fresh start with no memories of the horrific acts that he had done under Naraku’s control. Unburdened by the past pain which her presence could only remind him of, he might have a chance at a normal life.
She was actually grateful to Shigure for taking the burden of decision from her, because she could take Kohaku to her friends, Kagome and Inuyasha---who knew his past and would not turn him away for the sake of their former friendship. Kagome’s compassionate nature would never let her, and there was even the chance, with her miko’s power to purify the Jewel, that she could heal the shard’s dark influence on Kohaku’s spirit. And maybe, between Kagome’s healing abilities and the advances of modern medicine, one day even cure him of the need for it.
A deliberate scuff against the dry leaves behind them made Sango stiffen. She was not surprised when Kurama emerged from the forest. The color was leached from the kitsune by the night, turning his red hair into a dark shadow against the pale grays of his clothing.
“Anei? Are you all right?” His concern was touching, but his use of a name that was not truly hers was irritating. Perhaps it was the reminder that she could not admit it to her old friends. But her promise to Shigure had only been for those she had known, not those she might come to know, and only the long habit of centuries had kept her silent long past the need for it. Seitei’s words suddenly flitted across her scattered thoughts, and Sango flushed.
Looking away, she said shortly, “That’s not my name.”
The silence seemed to stretch out longer than it actually did as she paused, the word sounding so very strange after so long denying it. “It’s Sango.”
Hiei snorted.
Sango shot the apparition a disgruntled look. His scornful gaze flicked over the kistune when he admonished tiredly, “Hiei---”
Wanting to break the sudden tension she felt she had caused, Sango started babbling. “It’s not that big a deal. Kinda stupid, really. ‘Shadow’ was a nickname given to me by some of King Yama’s soldiers, and it just sort of stuck, I guess. It doesn’t matter, really. I don’t know why I suddenly felt like telling you---I guess I just felt like you should know.”
Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip, staring down at her hugged knees.
Hiei sneered. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter what we call her, Kurama.” He paused, his red eyes boring hard into her back before he took off for the trees. “What really matters is what she calls herself.”
Sango flinched. Damn him, he knew just how to stab right inside her heart with the insightful truth of his harsh words. Her eyes grew troubled as she stared at the wind-ruffled trees across from her. She felt Kurama draw alongside her, his canvas shoes making no sound against the thick grass. She looked up into eyes too dark to read, but his smile was gentle.
“Thank you…Sango.”
His use of a name that had not been hers in far too long brought a second stab of some unknown emotion to her heart, and she crookedly returned his smile as she said simply, “Thanks, Kurama, for---understanding.”
He extended a hand, which she gratefully took as she stood up. His palm was dry against hers. He paused, looking down at her, and Sango wished she could read the expression hidden from her by the darkness. For a moment, she felt as if…but no, she had been mistaken, for he was stepping back, his hand slipping free of hers as he said casually, “It grows late, and we will cross into the mountains tomorrow. There may be snow in the pass. Even this late in the year, the storms rarely descend from the heights---one of the reasons Raizen’s territory is so dry. But we should get all the rest we can tonight, before tackling them.”
Sango nodded, welcoming the calculated distraction for what is was. There had been enough raw emotions tonight. Perhaps Seitei had been right---and maybe it was time to let go of more than just her name. Like trying to deny just how much Hiei and Kurama’s friendship had come to mean to her. She had spent years keeping herself carefully separated from others. Maybe it was time she took a chance and let down her guard---if just a little.
Perhaps that would be enough.
ooOOooOOooOOoo
Whistling cheerfully as he walked, Kuwabara bestowed nods and smiles all around. He idly wondered why so many of the strangers he grinned at looked startled or tried to inch past him, eyes wide and manner nervous. One old granny even made a sign against evil, but that was nothing new. Grannies usually thought he was some type of giant thug. Normally that would bother him---even though he was kind of proud to be thought a thug, and was a big one, when all was said and done. But he was in too good a mood to let it bother him today.He’d gotten an 89 on the latest exam, which had been returned today in class, and he’d been so ecstatic that he’d forgotten to return Kagome’s notes, which had helped him prepare for it. That was easily remedied; it just took a bit to walk all the way to the shrine, which lay in the opposite direction of his home. But he wouldn’t mind seeing that doggy-dude again. Despite having a girly-kind of name, that loudmouth reminded Kuwabara of his friend Yusuke, who he’d been missing more than he’d ever admit to anyone. Besides, he might be asked to stay for dinner. Since Shizuru would be working late tonight, he wouldn’t mind trading a frozen TV dinner for some of Mrs. Higurashi’s home-cooking---which was every bit as good as Kagome had promised.
“Kuwabara?”
Startled, the young man turned, his smile turning sheepish as he finally recognized the tall teenager. Koenma’s new form still took some getting used to. He was more used to seeing the minor deity as a floating baby constantly sucking on a pacifier. It looked weird not to have the binky hanging off the demi-god’s pursed lips. Rubbing the back of his neck, Kuwabara said, “Hey, Koenma.”
“How ya been, Kuwabara?” Koenma asked, companionably falling into step beside him. Kuwabara eyed the tall young man, noting the quietly expensive sports coat and matching slacks in tasteful beige. His dusky orange button-down shirt clashed with the purple headband he wore to hide the “Jr” tattooed on his forehead.
“Good. Studying hard. Shizuru made me promise I’d get into a good high school, and has me taking a summer class. How ’bout you, Koenma? Haven’t seen you much lately.”
Koenma’s light brown eyes looked around warily. “Ah, well, I’ve been lying low. My father isn’t exactly the forgiving type, and disobeying him to protect Yusuke hasn’t exactly won me any Brownie points.”
“He’s mad, huh?” Kuwabara gave the prince a sympathetic look.
“That’s a little bit of an understatement,” Koenma said dryly. “Botan manages to send me messages from time to time, and the King isn’t exactly happy about my defection, even though Yusuke is now stuck in Demon World.”
“Hey! I thought you said we could free Yusuke any time we needed to---” Kuwabara stopped in his tracks, an angry scowl darkening his blunt features.
“We can,” Koenma hissed, looking around nervously at the scene they were causing. “Keep your voice down, Kuwabara! You want to attract attention? My father has spies everywhere.”
“But you said---”
“I know what I said! Come on, let’s keep walking. Where are we going, anyway?” Koenma nudged the big lug to get him moving again.
Disgruntled, Kuwabara replied, “Well, I’m going to the Higurashi shrine to return some of the notes I borrowed from Kagome. Hey, you should meet her. She’s got the same spiritual power that Yusuke has---had.” He grinned at his correction, and Koenma gave him a questioning look. “Well, Yusuke’s power is different now. Weird feeling. Like it isn’t as clean as it used to be, you know?”
“You do have a powerful spiritual sense, Kuwabara. I’d forgotten how powerful,” Koenma mused.
Kuwabara shrugged. “I’ve always been able to see the weird stuff. Shizuru, too. She says our dead Irish granny was some kind of wise woman or something. I just know Yusuke’s power feels different now---”
“That would be his awakened jyaki mixing with his spiritual energy,” Koenma explained.
“’Kay. Made him stronger, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Koenma looked pensive. “That’s one of the reasons my father fears him so much.”
“Why? It isn’t like Yusuke would go all demon-crazy or something. He’s on our side, fighting the good fight,” Kuwabara said staunchly.
“Yeah.” Koenma didn’t look totally convinced, but when Kuwabara drew breath to protest further, the deity quickly inserted, “So this girl---Kagome, was it? She’s like Yusuke? In what way?”
Distracted, Kuwabara said, “Well, she’s got an incredible aura---like Yusuke. And it’s all clean and shiny like his used to be. Inuyasha called her a miko---”
“Inuyasha?” Koenma asked curiously.
“Oh, yeah.” Kuwabara grinned. “He’s half a dog, or something. A half-demon. Like Yusuke, ’cept he was born that way, and didn’t have to die to become one. And get this, Koenma, he’s from like five hundred years in the past! Isn’t that crazy? He came through a dry well, or Kagome fell down it, or something---”
“What?” Koenma stopped dead in his tracks, his brown eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, isn’t that crazy? But Souta---that’s Kagome’s little brother, he likes to play soccer, he’s a good kid---he said it was true, that their cat, Buyo---who’s old and fat but still a good kitty, he let me pet him for hours---though Eikichi got mad when I got back home, kept sniffing me and went sulking off under the bed. It took me forever to get her back out. I had to bribe her with the tuna, and Shizuru was mad that I opened all three cans, and Eikichi yakked all over the rug after eating all of ’em, and…”
Kuwabara trailed off as Koenma held one hand up and planted the other on his forehead, as if he was growing dizzy.
“Eh, Koenma, you okay?” Kuwabara ventured uneasily, not knowing what the hell he could do if something was wrong. He wasn’t good with stuff like that, not like his sweet Yukina.
“I think we need to go someplace we can talk, Kuwabara,” Koenma said under his hand. “I mean, really talk.” Looking around, the prince spied an ice cream parlor. “C’mon, Kuwabara. It’ll be my treat.”
“Oh, okay.” Kuwabara was more than willing to go along if the binky-boy was paying. “But I want two scoops!”
ooOOooOOooOOoo
There was no snow to hinder their path as they crossed the mountains, but there was an icy rain that had Sango wrapping herself firmly inside her cloak and still shivering. The clouds hung low around them, lightning flickering luridly within their depths, and the rain sometimes turned to sleet. Born on a blustery wind that never let up, icy drops managed to find their way inside her hood to trickle past its shielding folds. Her jeans were not the best protection, either, for the denim pulled the cold damp up her legs like a sieve.The goat track they followed was treacherous and made slow going as they carefully edged their way around one washout after another. Kurama led as the heaviest, testing the path carefully before placing his full weight upon it. Sango tried to put her feet exactly where the nimble kitsune did, but his stride was longer than hers. She stumbled a time or two, barely saving herself with a quick grab for the rough rock. She was glad enough of Hiei’s silent presence behind her. Although the short demon could’ve easily jumped the steep ascent in a matter of seconds, he trailed after them, where his unnatural speed might save either her or Kurama if they slipped and fell.
The constant rain finally let up as the track wound around a last outcrop of stony rubble, disappearing behind a craggy protrusion that stuck out like a giant, stubborn chin. The going was tricky, for the rough surface was slick. Loose rocks turned under her boots, gravel skittering down the mountain face behind her. Sango had to keep all of her concentration on creeping past the out-flung rock, bracing her weight on her bent arms as the path narrowed to mere toe-holds and she had to use her hands to anchor herself against the stone.
Past the protrusion was a mean scramble through loose shale that cut her palms as she literally crawled up it, pebbles showering in her wake. She saw Kurama glance back at them, his red hair brilliant against the muted green folds of his over-robe, which he had folded shawl-like around his head and shoulders to stave off the rain. He made some sign to Hiei, who suddenly reappeared at the top of the steep summit, extending an arm down to help the kitsune up the last verge, which was almost a vertical incline of rough rock.
Sango inched over to the spot the kitsune had just left, feeling her way by touch more than sight. The stone firmed beneath her, and she looked up, extending her hand to grasp the calloused palm of the waiting fire demon. He braced his weight, the muscles bulging under the bandages along his right arm as he literally hauled her up and over that final hurdle with an ease that left her breathless. Her boots skidded out from under her at the last minute, and it was only the firm anchor of his arm that kept her from sliding back down the mountain.
“Thanks,” she managed to gasp as she got her feet back under her. She glanced around the windswept plateau, which spread in a sort of shallow bowl for several yards in the unnatural crack that had split one mountain into two, creating the pass they had just climbed. A few hardy scrubs had taken root here and there in the mostly limestone-looking rock, which was stained a darker brown by the earlier shower. The clouds hovered, their lavender bellies traced with swollen purple shadows as muffled thunder rumbled in the distance. Kurama had already crossed the small space to glance over the far edge, possibly scoping out the best path for their descent.
About to release her hand, Hiei paused, his fingers tightening on the ends of hers as he abruptly turned it over. Sango looked back curiously, surprised as the rough pad of his thumb lightly crossed her palm, which was dotted with blood.
“You’re bleeding,” he accused, as if he personally affronted by the fact.
“Only a little.” Sango shrugged, wondering what the big deal was. The shallow wounds stung, but would heal within a few hours. She tugged lightly, but he didn’t take the hint. Ignoring her frown, he stared at her opened palm, drawing it closer. A startling thought occurred to her, one she remembered Inuyasha doing, and she burst out, scandalized, “You’re not going to lick it, are you?”
Hiei dropped her hand like it was on fire. Abruptly turning on one heel, he gave her a scathing look before vanishing.Immediately contrite, Sango looked anxiously around for the apparition’s reappearance, intending to go and apologize, but Kurama stopped her with a smile.
“Don’t worry,” he said, holding out a bottle of antiseptic he had pulled from his pack.
“But---” Sango still felt like an ass.
“He’ll get over himself soon enough,” Kurama said conspiratorially, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in amusement.
“You presume too much, fox.” The growl came from some distance above them as Hiei’s black silhouette appeared on the scanty ledge up on their right.
“Heh.” The corner of Kurama’s mouth quirked as the short apparition turned to scan the distant hills. The kistune only placed the bottle in Sango’s palm, curling her fingers around it. “Best to take care of those. The risk of infection is not to be taken lightly, even with our quick youkai healing.”
Sango nodded, accepting the gentle reproof. Easing her pack from her shoulders with a grimace, she sat down on a convenient, if chillingly damp, rock and used a corner of the gauze the fox gave her to dab at the various abrasions. She winced, for the raw alcohol of the monks’ antiseptic stung. She lightly bandaged her hands before returning the medical supplies to the fox, who was tapping a finger against his chin as he scanned the cloudy skies above them.
“Kurama?” Sango hesitated to disturb him, but the fox smiled vaguely to reassure her, eyes still on the lowering clouds.
“I wonder if we should stay here and rest.” He looked around the windswept bowl with a frown. “It’s not the ideal campsite, but this might be the last chance we have before crossing the border…”
*Into enemy territory,* Sango finished his unspoken thought, and shivered.
ooOOooOOooOOoo
Not long after they decided on staying in the pass for the night, the rain started up again. Kurama used the water to force-grow some type of broad-leafed plant in the sandy rock that provided a bit of shelter from the icy barrage. A few drops still managed to seep through the layered leaves to splat on them at odd moments. One such drop slipped down Hiei’s cheek, and he scowled, impatiently wiping it away.Although the cold did not affect him, it was annoying they were all huddled in this tiny space like rats in a hole instead of continuing on. But Kurama was probably right that they should snatch what rest they could before venturing into the foothills of Mukuro’s land. Who knew what would be waiting for them on the other side---Mukuro was hardly as picky as Raizen when it came to his territory. The king certainly wasn’t as particular or exclusionary as the Toushin. He’d let any trash in, as long as they survived the often brutal violence that erupted between separate bands and villages. Not that that was anything new to Hiei---life in Demon World had always been ruled by survival of the fittest, and there was nothing wrong with that. Those too stupid or weak to survive didn’t deserve to do so, and Mukuro was nothing if not a traditionalist.
A chuff of noise made Hiei’s head turn, and he negligently watched as the taiji-ya, whose bedroll was between his spot and Kurama’s, scowled down at her dirty sock, which was worn at the heel. Peeling it off, she rubbed at the blister starting to form. It would be gone by morning, of course, but if her boot kept rubbing the skin there, it would be a continual irritation that might slow them down. Nostrils flaring with impatience, Hiei gave the kitsune a sharp glance.
*Do you have any spare bandages in that U-haul you call a pack, fox?*
Kurama raised an inquiring brow, though he kept his reply equally silent. *Do you need to rewrap the Dragon’s seal on your arm? I don’t know if I have enough---*
Hiei responded with an impatient look. *No. It’s for the hanyou.*
“Oh?” Turning to the taiji-ya, Kurama immediately spotted the problem. Plucking a small roll of gauze from his pack, he leaned over. “Sango? Does it hurt? Do you need me to lance it?”
Disgusted with the kitsune’s patent over-concern and rather irritated by the taiji-ya’s surprised gratitude as she took the gauze but not the kitsune’s offer of treatment, Hiei closed his eyes and waited for Kurama to quit fussing over the girl. He heard the scrape of tearing cloth and opened his eyes only wide enough to watch her deftly cut through the gauze and wrap the bottom of her foot. He kept watching under lowered lids as she made a face at her dirty sock, shoving it back inside her discarded boot before taking the other off to rub her foot and wiggle her toes. She had surprisingly dainty feet, with high arches. The pink polish the stupid detective had so boorishly pointed out was mostly scraped off. She frowned at it, her thumb rubbing over the faded color on her big toe, and Hiei wondered what she was thinking about.
And then wondered what in the hell he was thinking of in wondering that. Gods, he was losing it. That damn nuisance of a Spirit Detective was still influencing him, even when he wasn’t around. Mentally shuddering at the thought, Hiei turned his eyes away with a dark scowl, meeting Kurama’s steady green gaze.
*And what do you find so amusing, fox?* Hiei growled into the redhead’s mind, but the fox only smiled enigmatically, tossing over a withered rue-pear that the fire apparition neatly nicked out of the air. Sango’s head came up at the sudden movement, and Kurama’s smile grew noticeably warmer as he passed her another. She thanked the kitsune, accepting the dried jerky and ball of rice that were standard fare for dinner. She passed them on to Hiei, who ate his share with his usual dispatch, neatly cleaning the sticky rice from his fingers with his tongue. Eying him, Sango leaned over and whispered to Kurama, who nodded.
Glaring at the exchange, Hiei was discomfited when the kitsune dug back inside his pack and casually offered him more of the jerky. Never one to pass up food---for there had been plenty of times in his childhood he had gone without---Hiei took it with a suspicious scowl.
Sango suddenly grinned. “Is that your ‘thank you’ glare, Hiei?”
Kurama laughed and Hiei’s scowl darkened. “That one’s his ‘I’m going to kill you slowly,’ glare.” The kitsune sat back, his manner droll.
“Hn.” Annoyed by their amusement at his expense, Hiei ignored them to strip the tough jerky in three quick bites, making certain his sharp fangs showed as he did so to remind them he was not someone it was wise to mess with.
“Is that supposed to impress?” Sango’s light teasing made Hiei’s red eyes snap over in surprise. Her dark eyes were lightened to a warm chocolate hue. “I’ve seen bigger fangs on a kitten.”
Kurama muffled a laugh in his sleeve as Hiei’s gaze grew frigid.
The taiji-ya relented, explaining, “Well, Kirara was a nekomata. Her true form was a bit larger than her kitten one.”
“Kirara?” Kurama raised an elegant brow.
Sango faltered, a flash of pain darting through her eyes before she said lightly, “She was my friend and companion since before I can even remember. Almost like a mother to me and my brother, Kohaku, since our own died at his birth. Kirara was always there to guide and protect us. She…died in that last battle with Naraku.”
She dropped her eyes to her hands, slowly tracing a calloused fingertip across the wrinkled skin of the pear she held uneaten in her palms. Silence descended, and the patter of the rain overhead was too loud in the sudden tension. Hiei disliked the stiff line of the girl’s narrow shoulders, and said sharply to distract himself from it, “Do you know where Mukuro’s fortress lies, Kurama?”
“I have a rough idea.” The kitsune pursed his lips, his eyes glancing from the taiji-ya, who had looked up in sudden interest, to the apparition, who carefully kept his expression blank. Hiei knew he wasn’t fooling the fox any, but he didn’t care what Kurama thought. Let him ponder the reasons for his interference---it had worked, hadn’t it? For the girl was now leaning forward to study the rough map Kurama was detailing on his bedroll, using the rumpled wrinkles to indicate positions with his finger.
Hiei let his mind wander, as he knew well the key defenses of the demon king’s territory. There was really nothing more significant than a large village or small town within Mukuro’s borders, as few of the rough primitives who made their home there could quit fighting long enough to cooperate and make treaties. It was all very neat and traditional, and the king played one faction against another, deliberately inciting the blood feuds that ran deep among the various youkai clans. But then, Mukuro was rather known for his vindictiveness and petty cruelty. As long as his rule went unchallenged and he could conscript his massive army from among the clan ranks, the king did not overly concern himself with how those under him conducted their day-to-day affairs. The king even welcomed the banished or hunted of other realms to his. He recruited many of the cutthroats and murderers to his army, which was known for its bloodthirsty infighting. Rank was based on those who could keep it long enough against any challenger to actually make use of it to command, and only the king’s rumored Elite Guard served the rapacious demon with any true loyalty or oaths of fealty.
The two murmuring voices blended together as Kurama explained what Hiei already knew, and the demon lightly dozed as he grew bored with the conversation. Eventually, the light died as the hidden sun set, and both hanyou folded themselves inside their sleeping bags. Not needing to rest as weak humans did, Hiei kept brooding watch, listening to the rain scatter against the layered leaves overhead as the wind whistled through the mountains. He could hear the soft snores of the taiji-ya, and smirked, for even Kurama did not feel so secure in his surroundings as to make such a noise. She was all but unaware of it, which was even more ironic.
His eyes flicked over her, though there was not much to see under the muffled darkness of her cloak. She slept curled on her side, facing him, her head pillowed on one arm. Her bangs were tangled across her cheek, the longer strands of her thick ponytail spilling over her shoulder and back. She looked too innocent while sleeping, like a child. It should have irritated him, but the vulnerability of that innocence was almost…appealing.
*Appealing. Hn.* Closing his eyes, he pulled up the memory of her standing in the light of the setting sun in the gorse-choked desert as they crossed Raizen’s lands. She had had her eyes closed then, too, her very being stretching out towards the sun as if she could soak up its warmth. There had been something so appealing as she stood there, her face bathed in the fire of the setting sun, the brown strands in her black hair turned to burnt umber as her lithe, acutely feminine body was sharpened into shadowed outline by the sun’s last rays. She had looked like a tennyo of fire, a phoenix rising up out of the ashes of the shadows at her feet as the light danced all around her. She had somehow summoned the jyaki in the air to her, merging with its sun-warmed breath. He could not contain his reaction to it, for she had unknowingly drawn him and every other damn demon there along with it.
Hiei suppressed a growl as jealousy spiked through him at the memory of the others’ reactions. He could not contain the irritation, then, either---though he was rather smug that it was he she had locked eyes with, and none of the others. Until Kurama had adroitly insinuated himself, breaking the silent tension between them by distracting her. Hiei was actually grateful to the kitsune for interfering, for it had given him the chance to get a hold of himself and rein in the raw desire that had enflamed him with the beguiling sight.
He was not one to let his more primitive emotions rule him; he had done enough of that as a child. He might have seen her uncanny effect on him in the desert as dangerous to his self-control, but he was rather arrogantly assured that he could control his raw reaction to her startling appeal as ruthlessly as he did any other. He was not a fool to give in to his baser instincts. He was a past master at controlling them, and now was neither the time or place to give in to such desires.
Not that she would welcome such a thing from him. He had little to recommend him as a lover, as he had never found it that urgent to relieve himself of his virginity in any of the arms of the various female youkai who’d offered. He didn’t have time for such distractions---although he was far from innocent of the logistics involved in the act. He’d been raised by bandits, some of whom spent their coin as quickly as they could on drink and women. The coupling in the corner of a raunchy tavern that reeked of filth and vomit had never given him the desire to know why so many of the men seemed so eager for it. His wandering after, and his contempt for the cold women who had cast him out as a mere babe, had never given him much respect for a sex often weaker than he. He could only despise that weakness, for strength was ever his own driving aim.
Not that he couldn’t appreciate beauty. There was something almost achingly unattainable in true perfection. Like the vast sweep of an ancient forest, or the glittering blue ice of a frozen tundra, the sinuous curves of the Dragon he contained, or the fitful play of lightning across a violet sky. The beauty of a woman---there was something almost achingly unattainable in that as well. The delicacy and grace of their movements, the soft lines of their hidden curves, the sweep of a coy look under lowered lashes as the petals of their lips parted invitingly into a knowing smile…
But he had been denied that by his very birth among women who had forever renounced men. The koorime had been beautiful in their frigid way, as his twin sister was beautiful in her gentleness and kindness. But still, it was something inaccessible to him, twisted as he was by being born with a nature in direct opposition to his breed.
He was haunted by the memory of a woman he had rescued some time in the past, during his long wandering after finally locating his mother‘s village. Following the strange draw of repressed energy, he had fought through a golden dragon’s barriers to find a naked woman bound in chains in the heart of a crystal demon. Shattering her free of her confinement, he had extended his hand to her as she rose, the deep sadness in her eyes calling out to him. She had reached for him as well, and their fingers had almost brushed, but delicate wings had unfolded from her back and she had made quick her escape---afraid, perhaps, of being caught again. Her last look was one of regret and apology just before she turned to flee.
Somehow, that memory signified everything ever unattainable to him, and he grew uneasy as he relived the poignancy of it. But most alarming of all was when the pale youkai turned to face him, it wasn’t with the beautifully remote features of the swan demon with her ethereal blue eyes, but the dark, haunted eyes of the slayer who lay sleeping beside him…
Hiei jerked back in surprise, and his eyes opened in confusion as the damp darkness of the leafy tent surrounded him. He must have nodded off, and somehow his memories had twisted around themselves in his dreams. His shoulders twitched, and he frowned. Eyes flicking over the girl who lay beyond him, he brooded long into the night as the rain-ridden wind continued to moan desolately around them.