Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Balance ❯ For Only a Day ( Chapter 35 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: KitsuneSilver 
Hiei could have laughed at how silly they looked.
Anime/Manga: Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 07.01.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 272 | Status: Completed
Hiei could have laughed at how silly they looked.
Anime/Manga: Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 07.01.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 272 | Status: Completed
NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. I admit, when I started it, I planned for it to be the last chapter, but then it got to 3,048 words and I was like, “Let’s hang on for a little while longer.”
Disclaimer: crazy mad party at Kurama's house!
Balance
Chapter Thirty-Five: For Only a Day
You don’t know? he asked softly. You don’t know?
‘It is impossible to know that answer.’
Impossible to know who is to say what is right?
‘All view things differently. There is no ‘right.’’
I believe I understand…
The man in the mirror–his greatest Fear–looked on him with kind eyes. The facets of the shattered red sparkled, and the cold city began to shine.
How will I know if I am meant to go on? he asked sadly, looking around him at the tall glass buildings and feeling his emotions fading. The monuments could fall at any moment; they were unstable, built of his own self; and he did not care.
My life no longer has meaning, now that I understand.
The man in the mirror looked off, above his head, to the cold glass sky above the cold glass buildings, and pointed.
‘Do you see that?’
He looked to where the man pointed, and shielded his eyes.
The sun? he asked, not seeing any meaning to a fake white ball of fake fire energy in a fake frigid world of fake shining glass.
‘Yes,’ said the man in the mirror, beginning to smile. ‘The sun is rising, and you are breathing. You are alive. What more could you want?’
His eyes downcast, he chuckled a bit.
I could want to be perfect, he said. I could want to be the best, the best at everything and the best for everyone. I could want to never have to change.
‘And wouldn’t that be lovely?’
He chuckled again, shaking his head.
No, he said. No…I don’t need to be perfect. I don’t need to be the best. I don’t need to have everything, or know everything, or want everything. I am–I do not need to be gluttonous in life. I am not a child.
‘But you wouldn’t want to be the best, for only a day?’
No…
The man in the mirror nodded. ‘You accept your fear?’
I accept that this world, and everything that goes on inside of it, is false.
‘But do you understand?’
He looked to his Fear, staring him straight in the face with hardened eyes, and nodded.
I will, he said, if I do not yet. I will learn from my dreams and my fantasies, and I will not submit to Fear.
‘You will not abandon me.’
He smiled with a bit of his old kindness.
I know enough not to.
Fear smiled back, his eyes nearly dust holding together in his cracked and broken face.
‘I believe…everything will be all right.’
Someday, maybe.
The sun, peeking over the cold glass city, refracted through the icy panes and skated across shimmering streets, making them glow like fire.
Fire…such a glorious friend. The little firefly was a lovely creature, and the dancing embers were like music. So pretty, so painful, so fragile…
It’s a nice view, he said. Isn’t it?
‘That’s true…’
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Hiei shifted his knees slightly, tilting Kurama a bit to the left. The redhead didn’t really notice, suddenly aware of the mission’s failure and sort of zoning out. Yuusuke and Kuwabara looked at him sadly. Kurama wasn’t meant to be like this…he was meant to smile, and to sing when he was happy and to grow hard-eyed when he was angry and to speak when he was sad.
“Uh…Kurama?” Kuwabara said uncertainly. Kurama didn’t move, but his eyes flicked to the taller man and back. Taking that as an initiative, Kuwabara cleared his throat, mainly out of nerves, and tried to arrange his thoughts into reasonable speech.
“Eh–are you…are you feeling all right?” he asked, starting out safely enough. “Because, I mean, you’re always so…lively, or at least aware, and now you’re just so…so…asleep, almost. If you were out here alone, I bet vultures would be circling overhead.”
Yuusuke smacked his friend’s head at the stupid illustration. Rather than reel and yell, Kuwabara lightly touched the spot and tried to recover himself. It was a little difficult in the face of Hiei’s murderous glare, but he managed.
Sort of.
In his defense, the death glare did make it far more difficult.
“I–uh–what I mean to say is that you should be standing up, running around, being alive! You’re not meant for this, Kurama, and you don’t deserve to force yourself into it. You’re such an awesome guy and you look so depressed! It’s…it’s wrong!”
Kurama smiled a little and laughed, though it was more a hollow cough than anything else. Kuwabara cocked his head and Yuusuke peered over Hiei’s protective hands.
“The one thing in my life that wasn’t perfect,” he said, his tone oddly normal, “and I was presented with the perfect opportunity to fix it. I failed. Miru is still out there somewhere, and she’ll still try to kill me. She’ll still want me to pay for her crimes.”
“Her crimes?” Hiei jumped in instantly. Breakthrough, breakthrough, breakthrough…
Kurama shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. I suppose it’s possible that I did…whatever it was, and I forgot. I do want to believe you, but she’s just so…convincing, that I can’t. To be honest, the whole thing is sort of a blur to me.”
Dammit.
“But you didn’t!” Yuusuke exclaimed. “You told us, earlier on in this mission, that you were so sure you didn’t do it! I mean, come on, Kurama, you wouldn’t have done it and then not remembered the loot, would you? And explosives aren’t your style at all–it’s completely irrational. Whatever happened that day, whatever happened to those people, it wasn’t your fault, and nothing Miru says can make it your fault.”
Kuwabara nodded emphatically. “That’s right,” he said in a commanding tone. “It wasn’t your fault at all, and Miru is a sick and twisted girl to make you think that it was.”
Kurama nestled his face into Hiei’s cloak–more accurately, into the demon’s waist–and sighed a little, the light puff of warm air passing through the thin black fabric.
“But what if it was?”
None of them knew quite what to say to that. There was no arguing with it, that was certain–it lacked the appropriate and characteristic logic of Kurama’s speech. Yuusuke, having tried the only thing he could think of (ranting, with a little bit of emotional reasoning), was at a loss. Kuwabara could think of a few more things to try, but none of them seemed very logical, and he didn’t want to interrupt if Hiei was going to give it a go.
They all waited for awhile–Yuusuke and Kuwabara for Hiei to say something, and the little demon for Kurama to do something.
Yuusuke seemed not calm, as he tried to, but tense and ready to explode with a furious tirade if given the opening. Secretly he harbored a festering rage for the fox spirit, hating how he refused to sit up and think of a new plan of attack. This wasn’t just Kurama’s problem anymore! He had no right to interrupt their capturing (or killing, as he so plotted) Miru with his self-important moping.
Kuwabara showed off a stoic face, but thought deeply behind it. It was true that Kurama was no longer alone in this vengeance, but the fox did have the right to Miru’s head, he supposed. She had caused him more pain than she had caused any of the others. And besides, any rage they felt was channeled through Kurama first–it was all second-hand. But dammit, if Kurama wouldn’t stop pitying himself…well, Kuwabara couldn’t be held responsible for all his actions.
Hiei simply didn’t know what to do. He was in love with Kurama, he knew that now, and a certain small part of him was afraid of hurting the fox if he said anything. But the other two expected it of him, he was sure–both the speaking part and the hurting part. That was the sort of person he was. And they would expect him not to care when he hurt the fox, too. He never cared before, why start now? But they didn’t know the depths of his feeling, they couldn’t.
Kurama was too distraught to notice much of anything. He had to stop feeling so sorry for himself, sure, but now…it was too soon. His emotions were fluctuating at remarkable speeds and he wasn’t even sure he felt at all anymore. Hiei, who he had thought to be his one true love, no longer held the vitalizing thrill he once had… Yuusuke, who he had thought to be a loyal friend, no longer trusted as much as he once had… Kuwabara, who he had thought to be a kindhearted and sweet man, no longer seemed to be as gentle as he once had…
Without thinking of it, Kurama clasped his fingers around the waist of Hiei’s cloak and tugged it closer to himself.
The small demon felt himself being pulled from the middle towards Kurama’s face and reflexively resisted. He never liked to be moved this way or that. Only afterwards did he realize that he should have been yielding, but Kurama, still tugging but a little harder this time, didn’t seem to notice. Yuusuke and Kuwabara watched, warring between patience and impatience.
Hiei could have laughed at how silly they looked.
“Kurama,” he finally said quietly. “We could go on and on, talking about ‘what if’ for the rest of our lives. But I don’t care about ‘what if,’ I care about ‘what is.’” He took a breath to steel himself. “And…right now…you are ‘what is.’ You are what matters. You are the one who needs to be healed, who needs to be helped, and–” suddenly he was inexplicably angry “–dammit, Kurama, if you won’t drag yourself out of this stupid depression you’ve put yourself in, then I’m going to try my hardest to do it for you!”
“What if I don’t want to?” Kurama murmured, his voice rising dangerously as he spoke. “What if I don’t want to get back to the world where I don’t belong? I’m living in a different place, Hiei, far away from here. I’m living in a city of cold glass where the sun is always rising and the fractured light always shines in my eyes. It’s a city where nothing is ever the same, and the only one who ever walks through the streets is me.” He paused for a moment, heaving a dry sob and looking up at his friend with sad eyes.
“I’m all alone, Hiei,” he pleaded, “and I just want things to stop being so hard…is that too much to ask?”
So taken aback by Kurama’s apparent return to his insane “mood swinging” self, Hiei stopped for a moment to collect himself. He had been so sure that they were beyond this fluctuating personality…yet here it was again, roaring in their faces as though to mock him.
Hiei shook his head, furious at this backtracking. Kurama had tears welling in his eyes now, which set him back even more.
“Don’t cry, stupid!” he cried out, almost wailing. That was not what they needed just then! No, now Kurama had to be centered and clear minded, he had to be strong and brave and fucking normal. Hiei was too off-kilter after this entire ordeal, and Miru’s disappearance had upset his balance even more.
“Hey,” Yuusuke cut in. “Don’t yell at Kurama, Hiei, he’s just…confused. You’ve been there too, don’t start getting all pissed off.”
Glowing red eyes locked onto Yuusuke, burning with the sort of rage that said, “Don’t get involved or I’ll cut off your head, and don’t think I won’t do it.” Yuusuke backed away and sat on the ground, but continued to glare sharply back at Hiei. One of those, “Okay, but I’m still mad at you, dumbass.”
Kuwabara caught the exchange and wisely kept his mouth shut. It did bother him, though, that Kurama was being so…anti-Kurama. Could Miru’s disappearance really have gotten to him that much? It simply wasn’t logical. And yet, here it was.
It was completely mindboggling.
“I am not confused,” Kurama muttered into Hiei’s cloak.
“Kurama…” Hiei said, clearly exasperated. “Don’t start something.”
“I am not,” the fox retorted. “I’m merely pointing out why Yuusuke is wrong. I’m not confused; I’m alone.”
“You are not!” Hiei screamed. For a moment, it seemed as though he would hit Kurama; his fist was even raised above his head. But as he stared down at Kurama’s pathetic eyes and his quivering mouth as he tried not to cry…the spontaneity seemed to drain out of him and his cool demeanor returned.
“I’m…I’m sorry…”
Hiei lowered his arm slowly as though shocked, and Kurama nodded meekly, trying to smile and failing miserably.
“It’s all right, really.”
Hiei shook his head angrily. “No, it’s not!”
Kurama raised a hand off of Hiei’s lap, attempting to pat his friend’s shoulder and sooth him, but Hiei batted his hand away and shook his head. His eyes tightly shut and his teeth clenched, Hiei seemed to be restraining himself. The fox was baffled completely; Hiei had never done anything of this sort before, why start now?
He just looked so sincere, and so genuinely sorry…it was hard to be perplexed or angry or anything but sorry for the little demon. Kurama sat up, raising himself off of Hiei’s lap, and wrapped his friend in a tight hug. Hiei tried to force him away, but Kurama only tightened his grip.
Hiei leaned back in Kurama’s embrace and simply tolerated it.
He loved the fox, it was true, but there was only so much he would admit to. Loving the fox was one of those things, true, but that was beside the point.
Kurama looked up, a little surprised by Hiei’s quickness to relax. It was so unlike the fiery apparition to be submissive, but this was definitely Hiei, and he was definitely acting of his own free will.
“It’s all right, Hiei…I don’t–I mean, I understand…”
Hiei looked off to some spot far above Kurama’s head and nodded, his expression slightly tinted with his familiar annoyance with the world. This soothed Kurama a good deal more than the attempted chat, to see everything close to normalcy.
“Of course you do,” Hiei almost whispered, sounding defeated. Kurama looked up at him with a small smile, slightly misinterpreting the statement.
Yuusuke and Kuwabara, sensing the beginnings of a calmness between their demon friends, edged forward, prepared to leap backwards at a mere hint of disapproving. None came, however, and soon they were all sitting together on the ground, just like friends.
“So…” Yuusuke started admirably. “Are we…good?”
Hiei and Kurama looked over at him disbelievingly and Kuwabara teetered between support of his best friend and support of his demon companions. Uncommitted, he elected to stay silent altogether. Yuusuke shrugged apologetically.
“I dunno,” he apologized, “I guess I just…I don’t know. I want things to be normal, but I know they aren’t, and I thought that if we were all okay being friends again, we could be–”
“Yuusuke.”
The teen blinked, looking over at Hiei. Dark red eyes glared at him dangerously, holding threats of pain and torment. Yuusuke did not gulp, or laugh nervously, or even close his eyes. He simply sighed and nodded, his eyes half-lidded and his expression pointed at the ground. He had been rambling and, like a scolded child, he stopped when interrupted, keeping to his abashed self.
Kuwabara placed a hand on his shoulder, and their eyes did not meet. Even Kuwabara still looked at the ground.
They sat in tense silence for a few minutes, trying to pretend to be on friendly terms with one another, until Kurama stood and stretched. Hiei, Yuusuke, and Kuwabara looked up at him simultaneously, their heads tilted at the same angle, their eyes open the same way.
“Well,” he said, stepping outside of the circle so as to look at them all, “I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I am…glad for the effort you’ve put into trying to understand what is going on inside my head, but I’m afraid you simply can’t. Haven’t, rather.” He smiled cheerfully, the way they all remembered Kurama’s smiles. “Shall we go?”
Hiei was about to stand, his hands placed behind him on the ground, but Kuwabara scrambled up first and jumped to stand before Kurama, hands outstretched and eyes pleading.
“But we want to understand!” he cried. “You can’t possibly understand how much we want to understand. We want to help, Kurama, if you’ll just–let us in!”
The fox didn’t move, but his eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side. He looked perplexed, to say the least. Yuusuke had stood during his friend’s tirade and looked determined, and Hiei, while standing as well, didn’t appear to be on one side or the other.
“Er, I…eh…”
“Kurama,” Yuusuke tried, “you tell us that it’s hell in there–in your head–and you tell us we can’t possibly understand, but you never let us try! I–we want to try, if you’ll let us, and I really…I wish you would…”
Kurama looked between the two, at a loss for something sane to say, and his eyes fell on Hiei. The fire demon’s gaze matched his own and, while his expression did not betray much of anything, the flicker of emotion in his eyes gave Kurama the exact notion of what to say.
“While I appreciate your efforts, I really must assure you that I have control over my own thoughts. Thank you, though, for your concern.”
Hiei looked away, his hidden eyes sad, and Yuusuke and Kuwabara sagged, their faces decorated by the loss they felt.
Kurama’s smile was impossibly normal.
“Shall we contact Koenma for a gate back home?”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Small note: has anyone ever heard of the play “Wonder of the World” by David Lindsay-Abaire? Well, it’s very funny, you should read it or see it or something. I stole some parts of this chapter from that play.
Small note the second: the lyrics of “Daydream Generation” mention a city of cold glass. Hence the city of glass Kurama keeps making reference to. So…yeah. Like that.
Disclaimer: crazy mad party at Kurama's house!
Balance
Chapter Thirty-Five: For Only a Day
You don’t know? he asked softly. You don’t know?
‘It is impossible to know that answer.’
Impossible to know who is to say what is right?
‘All view things differently. There is no ‘right.’’
I believe I understand…
The man in the mirror–his greatest Fear–looked on him with kind eyes. The facets of the shattered red sparkled, and the cold city began to shine.
How will I know if I am meant to go on? he asked sadly, looking around him at the tall glass buildings and feeling his emotions fading. The monuments could fall at any moment; they were unstable, built of his own self; and he did not care.
My life no longer has meaning, now that I understand.
The man in the mirror looked off, above his head, to the cold glass sky above the cold glass buildings, and pointed.
‘Do you see that?’
He looked to where the man pointed, and shielded his eyes.
The sun? he asked, not seeing any meaning to a fake white ball of fake fire energy in a fake frigid world of fake shining glass.
‘Yes,’ said the man in the mirror, beginning to smile. ‘The sun is rising, and you are breathing. You are alive. What more could you want?’
His eyes downcast, he chuckled a bit.
I could want to be perfect, he said. I could want to be the best, the best at everything and the best for everyone. I could want to never have to change.
‘And wouldn’t that be lovely?’
He chuckled again, shaking his head.
No, he said. No…I don’t need to be perfect. I don’t need to be the best. I don’t need to have everything, or know everything, or want everything. I am–I do not need to be gluttonous in life. I am not a child.
‘But you wouldn’t want to be the best, for only a day?’
No…
The man in the mirror nodded. ‘You accept your fear?’
I accept that this world, and everything that goes on inside of it, is false.
‘But do you understand?’
He looked to his Fear, staring him straight in the face with hardened eyes, and nodded.
I will, he said, if I do not yet. I will learn from my dreams and my fantasies, and I will not submit to Fear.
‘You will not abandon me.’
He smiled with a bit of his old kindness.
I know enough not to.
Fear smiled back, his eyes nearly dust holding together in his cracked and broken face.
‘I believe…everything will be all right.’
Someday, maybe.
The sun, peeking over the cold glass city, refracted through the icy panes and skated across shimmering streets, making them glow like fire.
Fire…such a glorious friend. The little firefly was a lovely creature, and the dancing embers were like music. So pretty, so painful, so fragile…
It’s a nice view, he said. Isn’t it?
‘That’s true…’
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Hiei shifted his knees slightly, tilting Kurama a bit to the left. The redhead didn’t really notice, suddenly aware of the mission’s failure and sort of zoning out. Yuusuke and Kuwabara looked at him sadly. Kurama wasn’t meant to be like this…he was meant to smile, and to sing when he was happy and to grow hard-eyed when he was angry and to speak when he was sad.
“Uh…Kurama?” Kuwabara said uncertainly. Kurama didn’t move, but his eyes flicked to the taller man and back. Taking that as an initiative, Kuwabara cleared his throat, mainly out of nerves, and tried to arrange his thoughts into reasonable speech.
“Eh–are you…are you feeling all right?” he asked, starting out safely enough. “Because, I mean, you’re always so…lively, or at least aware, and now you’re just so…so…asleep, almost. If you were out here alone, I bet vultures would be circling overhead.”
Yuusuke smacked his friend’s head at the stupid illustration. Rather than reel and yell, Kuwabara lightly touched the spot and tried to recover himself. It was a little difficult in the face of Hiei’s murderous glare, but he managed.
Sort of.
In his defense, the death glare did make it far more difficult.
“I–uh–what I mean to say is that you should be standing up, running around, being alive! You’re not meant for this, Kurama, and you don’t deserve to force yourself into it. You’re such an awesome guy and you look so depressed! It’s…it’s wrong!”
Kurama smiled a little and laughed, though it was more a hollow cough than anything else. Kuwabara cocked his head and Yuusuke peered over Hiei’s protective hands.
“The one thing in my life that wasn’t perfect,” he said, his tone oddly normal, “and I was presented with the perfect opportunity to fix it. I failed. Miru is still out there somewhere, and she’ll still try to kill me. She’ll still want me to pay for her crimes.”
“Her crimes?” Hiei jumped in instantly. Breakthrough, breakthrough, breakthrough…
Kurama shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. I suppose it’s possible that I did…whatever it was, and I forgot. I do want to believe you, but she’s just so…convincing, that I can’t. To be honest, the whole thing is sort of a blur to me.”
Dammit.
“But you didn’t!” Yuusuke exclaimed. “You told us, earlier on in this mission, that you were so sure you didn’t do it! I mean, come on, Kurama, you wouldn’t have done it and then not remembered the loot, would you? And explosives aren’t your style at all–it’s completely irrational. Whatever happened that day, whatever happened to those people, it wasn’t your fault, and nothing Miru says can make it your fault.”
Kuwabara nodded emphatically. “That’s right,” he said in a commanding tone. “It wasn’t your fault at all, and Miru is a sick and twisted girl to make you think that it was.”
Kurama nestled his face into Hiei’s cloak–more accurately, into the demon’s waist–and sighed a little, the light puff of warm air passing through the thin black fabric.
“But what if it was?”
None of them knew quite what to say to that. There was no arguing with it, that was certain–it lacked the appropriate and characteristic logic of Kurama’s speech. Yuusuke, having tried the only thing he could think of (ranting, with a little bit of emotional reasoning), was at a loss. Kuwabara could think of a few more things to try, but none of them seemed very logical, and he didn’t want to interrupt if Hiei was going to give it a go.
They all waited for awhile–Yuusuke and Kuwabara for Hiei to say something, and the little demon for Kurama to do something.
Yuusuke seemed not calm, as he tried to, but tense and ready to explode with a furious tirade if given the opening. Secretly he harbored a festering rage for the fox spirit, hating how he refused to sit up and think of a new plan of attack. This wasn’t just Kurama’s problem anymore! He had no right to interrupt their capturing (or killing, as he so plotted) Miru with his self-important moping.
Kuwabara showed off a stoic face, but thought deeply behind it. It was true that Kurama was no longer alone in this vengeance, but the fox did have the right to Miru’s head, he supposed. She had caused him more pain than she had caused any of the others. And besides, any rage they felt was channeled through Kurama first–it was all second-hand. But dammit, if Kurama wouldn’t stop pitying himself…well, Kuwabara couldn’t be held responsible for all his actions.
Hiei simply didn’t know what to do. He was in love with Kurama, he knew that now, and a certain small part of him was afraid of hurting the fox if he said anything. But the other two expected it of him, he was sure–both the speaking part and the hurting part. That was the sort of person he was. And they would expect him not to care when he hurt the fox, too. He never cared before, why start now? But they didn’t know the depths of his feeling, they couldn’t.
Kurama was too distraught to notice much of anything. He had to stop feeling so sorry for himself, sure, but now…it was too soon. His emotions were fluctuating at remarkable speeds and he wasn’t even sure he felt at all anymore. Hiei, who he had thought to be his one true love, no longer held the vitalizing thrill he once had… Yuusuke, who he had thought to be a loyal friend, no longer trusted as much as he once had… Kuwabara, who he had thought to be a kindhearted and sweet man, no longer seemed to be as gentle as he once had…
Without thinking of it, Kurama clasped his fingers around the waist of Hiei’s cloak and tugged it closer to himself.
The small demon felt himself being pulled from the middle towards Kurama’s face and reflexively resisted. He never liked to be moved this way or that. Only afterwards did he realize that he should have been yielding, but Kurama, still tugging but a little harder this time, didn’t seem to notice. Yuusuke and Kuwabara watched, warring between patience and impatience.
Hiei could have laughed at how silly they looked.
“Kurama,” he finally said quietly. “We could go on and on, talking about ‘what if’ for the rest of our lives. But I don’t care about ‘what if,’ I care about ‘what is.’” He took a breath to steel himself. “And…right now…you are ‘what is.’ You are what matters. You are the one who needs to be healed, who needs to be helped, and–” suddenly he was inexplicably angry “–dammit, Kurama, if you won’t drag yourself out of this stupid depression you’ve put yourself in, then I’m going to try my hardest to do it for you!”
“What if I don’t want to?” Kurama murmured, his voice rising dangerously as he spoke. “What if I don’t want to get back to the world where I don’t belong? I’m living in a different place, Hiei, far away from here. I’m living in a city of cold glass where the sun is always rising and the fractured light always shines in my eyes. It’s a city where nothing is ever the same, and the only one who ever walks through the streets is me.” He paused for a moment, heaving a dry sob and looking up at his friend with sad eyes.
“I’m all alone, Hiei,” he pleaded, “and I just want things to stop being so hard…is that too much to ask?”
So taken aback by Kurama’s apparent return to his insane “mood swinging” self, Hiei stopped for a moment to collect himself. He had been so sure that they were beyond this fluctuating personality…yet here it was again, roaring in their faces as though to mock him.
Hiei shook his head, furious at this backtracking. Kurama had tears welling in his eyes now, which set him back even more.
“Don’t cry, stupid!” he cried out, almost wailing. That was not what they needed just then! No, now Kurama had to be centered and clear minded, he had to be strong and brave and fucking normal. Hiei was too off-kilter after this entire ordeal, and Miru’s disappearance had upset his balance even more.
“Hey,” Yuusuke cut in. “Don’t yell at Kurama, Hiei, he’s just…confused. You’ve been there too, don’t start getting all pissed off.”
Glowing red eyes locked onto Yuusuke, burning with the sort of rage that said, “Don’t get involved or I’ll cut off your head, and don’t think I won’t do it.” Yuusuke backed away and sat on the ground, but continued to glare sharply back at Hiei. One of those, “Okay, but I’m still mad at you, dumbass.”
Kuwabara caught the exchange and wisely kept his mouth shut. It did bother him, though, that Kurama was being so…anti-Kurama. Could Miru’s disappearance really have gotten to him that much? It simply wasn’t logical. And yet, here it was.
It was completely mindboggling.
“I am not confused,” Kurama muttered into Hiei’s cloak.
“Kurama…” Hiei said, clearly exasperated. “Don’t start something.”
“I am not,” the fox retorted. “I’m merely pointing out why Yuusuke is wrong. I’m not confused; I’m alone.”
“You are not!” Hiei screamed. For a moment, it seemed as though he would hit Kurama; his fist was even raised above his head. But as he stared down at Kurama’s pathetic eyes and his quivering mouth as he tried not to cry…the spontaneity seemed to drain out of him and his cool demeanor returned.
“I’m…I’m sorry…”
Hiei lowered his arm slowly as though shocked, and Kurama nodded meekly, trying to smile and failing miserably.
“It’s all right, really.”
Hiei shook his head angrily. “No, it’s not!”
Kurama raised a hand off of Hiei’s lap, attempting to pat his friend’s shoulder and sooth him, but Hiei batted his hand away and shook his head. His eyes tightly shut and his teeth clenched, Hiei seemed to be restraining himself. The fox was baffled completely; Hiei had never done anything of this sort before, why start now?
He just looked so sincere, and so genuinely sorry…it was hard to be perplexed or angry or anything but sorry for the little demon. Kurama sat up, raising himself off of Hiei’s lap, and wrapped his friend in a tight hug. Hiei tried to force him away, but Kurama only tightened his grip.
Hiei leaned back in Kurama’s embrace and simply tolerated it.
He loved the fox, it was true, but there was only so much he would admit to. Loving the fox was one of those things, true, but that was beside the point.
Kurama looked up, a little surprised by Hiei’s quickness to relax. It was so unlike the fiery apparition to be submissive, but this was definitely Hiei, and he was definitely acting of his own free will.
“It’s all right, Hiei…I don’t–I mean, I understand…”
Hiei looked off to some spot far above Kurama’s head and nodded, his expression slightly tinted with his familiar annoyance with the world. This soothed Kurama a good deal more than the attempted chat, to see everything close to normalcy.
“Of course you do,” Hiei almost whispered, sounding defeated. Kurama looked up at him with a small smile, slightly misinterpreting the statement.
Yuusuke and Kuwabara, sensing the beginnings of a calmness between their demon friends, edged forward, prepared to leap backwards at a mere hint of disapproving. None came, however, and soon they were all sitting together on the ground, just like friends.
“So…” Yuusuke started admirably. “Are we…good?”
Hiei and Kurama looked over at him disbelievingly and Kuwabara teetered between support of his best friend and support of his demon companions. Uncommitted, he elected to stay silent altogether. Yuusuke shrugged apologetically.
“I dunno,” he apologized, “I guess I just…I don’t know. I want things to be normal, but I know they aren’t, and I thought that if we were all okay being friends again, we could be–”
“Yuusuke.”
The teen blinked, looking over at Hiei. Dark red eyes glared at him dangerously, holding threats of pain and torment. Yuusuke did not gulp, or laugh nervously, or even close his eyes. He simply sighed and nodded, his eyes half-lidded and his expression pointed at the ground. He had been rambling and, like a scolded child, he stopped when interrupted, keeping to his abashed self.
Kuwabara placed a hand on his shoulder, and their eyes did not meet. Even Kuwabara still looked at the ground.
They sat in tense silence for a few minutes, trying to pretend to be on friendly terms with one another, until Kurama stood and stretched. Hiei, Yuusuke, and Kuwabara looked up at him simultaneously, their heads tilted at the same angle, their eyes open the same way.
“Well,” he said, stepping outside of the circle so as to look at them all, “I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I am…glad for the effort you’ve put into trying to understand what is going on inside my head, but I’m afraid you simply can’t. Haven’t, rather.” He smiled cheerfully, the way they all remembered Kurama’s smiles. “Shall we go?”
Hiei was about to stand, his hands placed behind him on the ground, but Kuwabara scrambled up first and jumped to stand before Kurama, hands outstretched and eyes pleading.
“But we want to understand!” he cried. “You can’t possibly understand how much we want to understand. We want to help, Kurama, if you’ll just–let us in!”
The fox didn’t move, but his eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side. He looked perplexed, to say the least. Yuusuke had stood during his friend’s tirade and looked determined, and Hiei, while standing as well, didn’t appear to be on one side or the other.
“Er, I…eh…”
“Kurama,” Yuusuke tried, “you tell us that it’s hell in there–in your head–and you tell us we can’t possibly understand, but you never let us try! I–we want to try, if you’ll let us, and I really…I wish you would…”
Kurama looked between the two, at a loss for something sane to say, and his eyes fell on Hiei. The fire demon’s gaze matched his own and, while his expression did not betray much of anything, the flicker of emotion in his eyes gave Kurama the exact notion of what to say.
“While I appreciate your efforts, I really must assure you that I have control over my own thoughts. Thank you, though, for your concern.”
Hiei looked away, his hidden eyes sad, and Yuusuke and Kuwabara sagged, their faces decorated by the loss they felt.
Kurama’s smile was impossibly normal.
“Shall we contact Koenma for a gate back home?”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Small note: has anyone ever heard of the play “Wonder of the World” by David Lindsay-Abaire? Well, it’s very funny, you should read it or see it or something. I stole some parts of this chapter from that play.
Small note the second: the lyrics of “Daydream Generation” mention a city of cold glass. Hence the city of glass Kurama keeps making reference to. So…yeah. Like that.