Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful ❯ Beautiful ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi.

 

Beautiful

by darlingfox

The first time I saw him I was intrigued. What was he doing here, a young and weak human boy? Because a human he was and is, any demon can tell you this. It was only a moment later when I realized that he was surrounded by a strange blend of energies, proving better than anything that his form was only a disguise. He could have chosen worse than that slender and strong body. And beautiful; oh yes, so very beautiful. You'd have to be blind and deaf not to notice it.

He isn't perfect, no human could ever be in the same way a demon can. But it's his flaws that make him all the more interesting. His red hair, much coarser than I once thought, is damaged almost beyond repair. His body is not meant to endure the hardships of this game. And he was so easily intimidated that for a moment I wondered if I'd chosen wrong, if his pretty little friend would proven to be a better choice.

But no; as it has turned out, the red-head is what I've been looking for.

Kurama, they call him. A thief and a merciless killer. Well, the latter can be said of any demon. We can recognize mercy as a feeling but rarely choose to use it. But Kurama, yes, trapped inside his human shell, has softened and knows mercy. Oh, I'm sure he can still kill effortlessly if he needs to, but he no longer takes any satisfaction in it. Just a task to be quickly done and soon forgotten. What a loss.

But how beautiful, how spectacular is that weak form! Nothing in my wildest dreams - and dreamt I have - had prepared me for the sight of him, in all his tainted human glory, standing in the stadium in front of me. He came with re-found self-confidence, fear pushed tightly in the back of his mind. Not that it's any help, of course. The fight and the delight of it is all mine.

He must hate that body of his, not able to hold back his screams. Music to my ears and I do enjoy listening to it so much. The naked pain in his voice sends shivers down my back. He hurts and hurts and the sound of it is so very sweet. His companions are the only ones who don't - can't, for they are mere humans - appreciate his suffering tune. Or perhaps the fire-demon still can, not so lost in the humanity that he can not savour a primal melody like this.

I can smell his blood and see the wounds on his soft flesh. It has been a long time since I've tasted of a human and he is making me hungry. If only I could lick that blood away, drink him like a glass of wine until he is drained and empty. The red spills and its flavour hangs in the air, heavy and fresh, rich and coppery and oh so delicious.

He suffers and can't hide it, not from his companions or our audience, and certainly not from me. If his voice and twisted features didn't tell it, those brilliant green eyes would reveal everything. A grim, horrified expression is meant to be on his delicate face, the terror framed by bright hair, darkened and matted by his own blood. All of this highlights his eyes, eyes that can see nothing but his own pain now. The agony I perceive in them makes my breath heavier and my heartbeat faster. If this weren't be a competition, a match fought to win, I would take my pleasure of him for a long, long time, until I'd see him broken and bared in front of me.

He may loathe himself now but I've never wanted him more.

The End.