Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Betrayal of Swords ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

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Betrayal of Swords

Prologue: Arrival

 

Makia - 49 years prior

The echo of footsteps, swift and sure, filled the air of the corridor as he ran, lungs heaving as he drew in the frigid air of the southern-most region of the realm, blood colored eyes darting this way and that as he hunted for his prey, sword loose in its sheath, the wards that hindered his powers already burning away under the constant pressure. Fabric fluttered about his tiny frame as he dodged yet another useless attack from his unseen enemy, the creeping viridian smile eating away at the hastily discarded cloak that had once adorned his shoulders. He forced his senses to ignore the presence of his companions, keeping them on the periphery of his mind, focusing solely on the faint, hidden power of the demon that he was fighting.

A surge of youki to his left alerted him to the demon's presence and he acted swiftly, turning sharply on his heel and reversing his momentum, his legendary speed on full display as his gleaming blade cleared its sheath and slid cleanly through cloth, armor, bone, and flesh, blood spraying, the wide-flung drops just barely missing his form as he landed, sword returned to his sheath.

He turned back to the demon to witness the collapse of the severed body, noting that the head had rolled off to the side, the hate-filled eyes still not quite comprehending what had just happened. Approaching slowly, he knelt carefully in the spreading puddle of the metal-scented fluid, digging in the dead demon's ruined clothes in search of one of three items that he had been sent to help retrieve. The medallion, a small, silver disc with a simple starburst on one side and an ancient rune for balance on the other, glinted wickedly as he withdrew it from the carnage, huffing slightly in annoyance at being sent to retrieve such a trivial item.

Clack!

He slipped the medallion into the many belts that wrapped tightly about his waist and turned, eyes flickering left and right, hunting for his opponent. A deep, lyrical voice reached his sensitive ears and he immediately dodged to the right, diving into the deeper shadows of the alcoves, just barely avoiding the bolt of lightning that slammed into the ground. The scent of kitsune assaulted his nose for an instant before something ripped through his body, flinging him backwards and slamming his child-like frame into the stone wall, cracks rippling from the point of impact for nearly twenty feet. A burn, cold and hot at once, spread from the center of his chest, his lungs fluttering spastically, trying to draw in the air that he couldn't breathe in, his barely beating heart fluctuating rapidly, youki rising and falling wildly.

Forcing his gaze up, to the high ledge where he knew his attacker stood, he could just make out the tall form of the demon that had attacked him, a flash of silver and a shimmer of gold branded into his memory before his eyes closed, his body slumping uselessly to the ground. In his mind, now joined with the minds of his companions, he could just barely hear the last words that would be uttered to him by the one that had ordered them to come, the final curse that now bound them from their very will to fight.

-*-*-*-*-*-

Reikai - Present

“Pathetic.” Blood splattered the once pristine halls of the palace of Reikai, sea colored eyes observing the carnage with contempt. Arms, legs, heads, torsos, even organs littered the area, blood painting every surface of the corridor. Souls huddled together in fear and the ferry girls cowered in the corners, afraid to draw any nearer to the ones that had committed these acts. Only one stood her ground, watching them with broken, uncaring eyes that seemed to be a mournful purple, the expression of sorrow that wreathed her features unnatural. Her sky blue hair was limp about her pale, sunken face and her kimono was pure white, even the obi that wrapped around her almost too slender waist.

She stood beside the open doors of the main office of Prince Koenma, who stood in front of his desk, the ever present pacifier hanging from a stout cord about his neck. His expression was grim, firm, almost harsh, and his eyes were dark with a peculiar sorrow, his skin pale and slightly drawn. The two stood straight and proud, meeting the gazes of their vicious attackers, neither caring if those clawed hands, stained bright red with fresh blood, or cold steel weapons tore into them, facing what was to come with far greater dignity and bravery than the rest.

It brought a cold smile to his face as he met the eyes of the junior ruler of the spirit world, vivid, pale lavender clashing with dark, solemn brown. The demon, for their leader could only be just that, stepped forward, long grey hair draping his slender, deceptive frame as he stood before the demi-god, one claw-tipped hand resting too casually on the grip of his katana. “Hello, Prince Koenma.”

Koenma glared at the unnamed demon, anger flashing across his gaze for an instant. “It would be rude to ask what it is that you want without knowing your name, Demon.”

“Hikorei,” the demon replied simply, fire dancing at his fingertips for an instant before dwindling away, amusement dancing in his gaze. “And I am here to deliver a message on behalf of my master.”

“What message?” Koenma demanded, eyes narrowing. Hikorei was surprised by the coldness of the young god's voice. He had heard the rumors about the prince, but even he was surprised at the levels to which events had altered him and his most powerful ferry girl.

“The power of the Gods will be stripped,” Hikorei declared, a little surprised that the demi-god barely even blinked at the declaration. “My master will give the Gods and Demon Lords one month to gather those that they see fit to challenge our claim to rule the three worlds.”

Koenma stared at the demon, back straight and head high. “I will relay your message to my father. Whether or not he heeds it, I cannot make any promises.”

Hikorei grinned at that. “He will have no choice.”

He fell into a sweeping, almost mocking bow and began to fade away, a glittering, golden mist surrounding him and the pair that had followed him, leaving only the devastation in their wake.

 

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