Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Firefly in Pink ❯ Chapter One: In Hindsight ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Dedicated to Asako, lovely beta-reader for this fic and my anime/manga pimp. Promised fic #4 I'd sworn myself to write for her, she wanted a Valentine's Day smut fic with this pairing which ended up more angsty than anything else for this first chapter. Hiei protested being in a romance so I had to give him his spot to vent.

Sorry, no lemon in this chapter, next one. The length was getting too long so I had to break this into separate chunks. Please, enjoy and feel free to comment if there was something you liked or didn't like. Thanks for your time!

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Chapter One: In Hindsight

She gave him headaches.

In hindsight, he supposed that should have been his first clue that he was - here, he sneered - in love.

It was such a messy emotion. Considering his aversion to such a weakness, it was no surprise that it had taken him years to admit it to himself - and even that unwelcome self-confession had occurred in a situation of extreme duress.

Finding oneself on the brink of death tended to do that.

To say that he was happy with the revelation would have been a gross understatement of vast proportions that went beyond the size of the Makai and human world combined. Add in the expansiveness of the Reikai in addition to that, that came closer to expressing the measure of his displeasure on the matter.

He would have been happier if he'd never had that vexing epiphany a scant few months ago when he'd felt his life trickling away and thought his soul would be moving on to the next world. Or, better yet if he hadn't actually survived the encounter with that particularly nasty youkai he'd been assigned to exterminate. If his opponent had been just a little more skillful, then Hiei wouldn't have had to face the reality of his unwanted realization and battle over what to do with it.

He hated that youkai. It was truly evil of him to leave a job unfinished like that.

Anger burning beneath his expressionless façade, Hiei wished fervently that none of it had ever happened at all - not the timely life-saving rescue by the kitsune, not the near death experience responsible for his sudden insight about his feelings, and most certainly not the assignment of that mission the pacifier sucking brat of Reikai had given him. If only that last event had never happened, at least then he could have peacefully continued ignoring whatever affections had been growing within him for that- that-

That human girl!

He'd be the laughing stock of Makai if this got out.

He didn't know how it had happened. It was ridiculous. He hardly ever saw her, most of his duties taking place in Makai, though their paths had crossed occasionally when he was assigned a mission in the human world and partnered with either the kitsune or the spirit detective, sometimes even both. And somehow, as if she had a hex on her that made her an open target for youkai activity, she frequently seemed to wind up being drawn into the heart of their mission and the inevitable ensuing battle.

In short, she usually had to be rescued. And, during a few of those times, he was the one who had drawn the proverbial short straw and was elected to do the rescuing.

He was not rescuer material.

No doubt, on those occasions when the two of them had found themselves isolated from anyone else while the others had been doing their assigned part to uphold the mission, that was where their dislike of each other spawned from. Something about her rubbed him the wrong way and he had a feeling the same held true for her as well.

No, he didn't like her.

He was certain he disliked her, even if he was in love with her.

She was stupid. What else could one call a person who kept getting in the way, being pitted against youkai who were so much stronger when compared to her powerless ordinary human self? For all the praise he'd heard about her intelligence, it had to take some kind of idiocy to be constantly kidnapped and held hostage. He was sure there was truth to his reasoning and that there really was something wrong with her.

Of course, in hindsight, it would have been better if he hadn't actually said that to her.

For a normal human girl, she could hit pretty hard.

And to think, he used to believe that the besotted spirit detective was half-pretending the severity of his injuries at her hands just to humor her.

Well, he knew better now though he could have done without the firsthand experience. His only excuse was that he'd been so focused on the enemy behind them that he'd let down his defenses on what should have been an ally, however useless that ally was. But his attention had been turned towards detecting the youkai sure to attempt the requisition of its stolen hostage, so he'd barely been aware of her presence next to him when he'd absentmindedly remarked on her intelligence, or lack thereof.

The ensuing slap, however, had gained her his full attention.

He had not been pleased.

Resisting the urge to rub his cheek in remembered pain, he could clearly recall the rage that had followed, both hers and his. He'd been extremely angry that someone so lacking in abilities had gotten the drop on him, a blow to his pride that, he'd been tempted to kill her even after having gone through all that trouble to rescue her in the first place. Surprisingly, even though she had to have known she could never beat him physically, she'd matched his fury with one of her own and had the temerity to actually yell at him -

Don't call me stupid. You idiot!

- and call him names, too.

After that particular incident, everything else between them seemed to just go downhill from there.

Prior to that, the relationship between them had been fairly peaceful. He hardly spared her a second thought, tolerating her presence on the occasions when they happened to find themselves in the same room and essentially ignoring her altogether. She treated him with a somewhat distant politeness and he pretended he hadn't seen the few friendly overtures she'd extended towards him. It had been a peaceful, if not dull, coexistence between them of a lukewarm temperature.

It became positively frigid after the incident.

Oh, she was still polite. When they found themselves together, usually in the company of their mutual friends, she still addressed him with all the properness one could expect from human etiquette. At least, that was how it appeared on the surface at first glance. But compared to the way he'd observe her treating others with warm smiles and easy laughter, her mannerisms toward him were practically glacial.

It was subtle, at first, and he hadn't paid attention to her change in attitude towards him just as he hadn't paid attention to anything she had done pre-incident. But when the insults started tallying up, barbs couched in seemingly polite courtesy so skillfully that there were times when he wasn't quite certain that he was being insulted, he had definitely started to take notice.

There was, after all, a limit to the amount of insult a man's pride could allow to pass without retaliating.

An impatient man could tolerate it even less.

And no one had ever accused him of being patient.

He couldn't retaliate physically, much as he would have liked to return in tenfold the blow she had dealt him. But he knew the others wouldn't stand for any harm to come to her, even from one of their own. No, they liked her too much, that was plain to see. He would never be forgiven were he to purposefully cause her bodily harm.

His own code of honor, what little there was of it, would not tolerate it either.

To use force against an opponent so obviously weaker, so powerless, would be an inexcusable stain on his pride. He would be very unhappy if he couldn't control himself enough to keep from taking his win through physical battle against an adversary who was merely using words to hurl at him.

No, he had to beat her at her own game. It was the only way he'd be satisfied.

He just wished it weren't so damn frustrating.

And he wished it didn't seem as if he was the one losing.

He wasn't a talkative person unless he had something to say or chose to utilize needling insults in an attempt to provoke an opponent into initiating a fight. However, those were fairly straightforward, not like this battleground with words that they seemed to have settled on somehow in an unspoken tacit agreement. He wasn't used to this verbal sparring where the words being said seemed like compliments, in both content and tone, were it not for the certain knowledge that rested between the two combatants that the other would be a complete fool if he or she ever believed that it could possibly be praise.

There were no violent outbursts, no suddenly overturned tables or fists punched through plaster walls, no screaming or heated cursing. There was nothing but uncomplimentary compliments steeped in chilly civil politeness.

It was driving him insane.

Word games where the end result was not a violent and pain-filled fight with fists were a kitsune's forte, not his. The constant stream of exchanged jabs hidden in polite pleasantries grated on his nerves, making him long for an outlet, something physical, something that would leave one or both fighters bruised, broken, and bloody. Still, he clung to his resolve as he struggled to maintain his usual icy façade, now touched with a degree of civility, and waited to see who would be the one to break.

Of course, it might have been easier to keep his patience with the current state of affairs, and perhaps even find some enjoyment with the game, if it didn't appear more and more as if the one to break would end up being him.

As it was, his anger with the situation boiled beneath his icy surface. And though he had walked away the victor during some of their encounters in verbal warfare, he did not hold the majority of those wins. The knowledge chafed - being bested by a woman, and a human one at that. It disturbed his way of things, his certainty in how the world he knew worked.

It made him doubt himself.

He was not finding that to be an enjoyable experience.

He recalled hearing from one of the others that she wanted to be a writer. She was studying literature, Japanese, learning from all sorts of classes she was taking that dealt with the change and subtleties of using language.

He thought it was an incredibly unfair advantage.

Not that he'd ever, ever admit that out loud to anyone.

But she held the upper hand and, as their verbal warfare continued, others were starting to take note. The increasing attention they were garnering was not doing anything to improve his mood and was only adding to his mounting aggravation.

He didn't like it. The war was a private one; it was between him and her and no one else. He didn't want other people watching and making judgments about something they couldn't possibly understand. He would have snarled and snapped at them, but then she'd know that it was bothering him and he didn't want that, didn't want her to know that it was affecting him.

But holding back, repressing so many emotions cropping up that he hadn't even realized he had until then, was taking its told as the raging pressure inside him continued to build, wanting an outlet but being ruthlessly choked back. However, that only served to aggravate it until, as if in retaliation, the strength of those tightly sealed boiling emotions seemed to triple as they battered at his control in an effort to find a way out, out, out of their confines.

It left him feeling constantly snarly and irritable, even more so than usual, until the stress sometimes rattled him enough to the point where he thought he'd snap. More than a few of those times occurred during their so-called civil exchanges where she'd drop a chillingly polite compliment-insult and he'd, suddenly and inexplicably, be struck with the intense urge to just take her and shake her until that icy demeanor of hers broke and spilled forth all that warmth and passion that he knew was inside her, fueling her constant attacks with words. He wanted her to crack, wanted to prove she was just as affected as he was beneath her false complacency, wanted her to turn the heat and life he saw her share with others towards him, even if it was only in burning anger.

He held back. He restrained those urges of his with a merciless grip, though even that was not without price. As the dissatisfaction within him grew, even though their interactions were seemingly serene on the surface, there was an underlying tension between them that was almost palpable and only appeared to be getting stronger, earning them frequent sideways glances from confused and beginning-to-be-suspicious friends. And the coolness she continued to radiate towards him, the unshakable calm she rarely seemed to lose during their verbal sparring…the more he was unable to break through those barriers she'd erected around herself, the more infuriated he became as he continued to think and discard a dozen ideas of how to smash through the wall of ice she'd built and get to the heat on the other side. This constant battling with her made him tense, restless, angry, and frustrated.

It made him hot.

He stared at her, the way the pale pink dress hugged her curvy form and her long hair flirted with the bare skin of her back, and lust curled through him with shamefully ridiculous ease. He couldn't help it; it seemed to be an adverse side effect that had developed in this war they were waging. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn't be so affected by simply looking, not a youkai of his advanced age. Considering how long he'd lived, why she was just a little girl compared to him!

She tossed her head suddenly and laughed, a husky sound that carried to him, and he felt his lust spike again. At that, he had to amend his thoughts. He couldn't think of her as a little girl, not when he was having that kind of a reaction from just hearing her voice. It made him feel like a…

He grimaced. Best not to go there.

He focused his attention on her, he told himself it was because there was nothing else of interest around, and tried very hard to think non-girl thoughts. Woman thoughts, that was something else.

And looking at her made him hot, he could admit that. He was male, sex was supposed to constantly be on his mind, even if he was too selective to give in to the urge unless it had been long enough for his body to practically demand on its own that sex was necessary. He was too much of a loner guarded of his privacy to like having to give up even that much intimacy to another person, no matter that one woman was much like another in his bed - except for her.

She was the exception, making him burn even when she was out of sight, so unlike the other women he'd gone through whom he'd forgotten once they had left. There were only words and a slap shared between them. That's why it was unbelievable to him that she could have that kind of effect on him when they'd never gone that far, never even shared a simple kiss.

But he couldn't kiss her.

He couldn't.

That would cross the line, bring into reality what was still just a thought in his head, a feeling in his heart. Fearless fighter though he might be, he didn't have the courage for that.

And she already belonged to another man.

Feeling another headache coming on, he twitched unpleasantly, chafing at the situation he unwillingly found himself in. He'd always prided himself for his cold practicality. From his observations that he'd garnered from years of experience, only fools opened themselves up to love and put their complete trust in another who often ended up betraying them anyway, committing adultery or even worse.

He had no desire to be the fool killed by his own lover.

Was it any wonder that he was so displeased to find himself becoming a fool?

And it was all her fault.

He glared at the oblivious source of his displeasure dancing happily with his red-haired comrade, feeling his temper spike at the natural picture they presented. Her back was facing him as she stared up at her dancing partner who, when she glanced away briefly, immediately zeroed in on Hiei's position. Their gazes locked, a tiny smirk curling the red-head's lips as the arm settled around his companion's waist tightened and drew her just a little bit closer as they swayed in slow dance.

Damn kitsune. He knew!

Hiei's eyes narrowed viciously as he processed this new bit of information. He thought he'd hidden it well from everyone else, but the kitsune had always been a clever one, eyes trained to examine every detail of any given situation. It made him a skilled and dangerous opponent, garnering Hiei's interest in him even before their first meeting. It was a talent that Hiei respected immensely in a partner he considered an equal.

Except when that talent was directed at him.

He didn't want anyone prying into his private thoughts - especially not a nosy kitsune!

Angry and uneasy, he forced himself to tear his gaze away from the dancing couple and turned his glare to the other occupants of the room visible from his seated position amongst the tables surrounding the area that had been cleared to create a dance floor. The great hall in Genkai's home made for a perfect location for the wedding reception due to its expansive space and the unnecessary need to explain to the owner why some of the guests didn't look human. Watching the joyful celebratory antics of the others around him made him feel out of place and, not for the first time that night, he wondered what the hell he was doing there.

The answer to that, too, was simple.

Yukina.

He was no brotherly material, especially when the girl he was a brother to didn't even realize who he really was to her. But that wasn't her fault since he'd never told her. Someone like her, delicate and radiating serenity and peace, didn't deserve to have it known to all that she was related to a man so tarnished and besmirched that none of the several existing worlds wanted to wholly accept him as their own. He didn't belong to anywhere or anyone. He couldn't.

How could he? Even his own clan, his own mother, hadn't wanted him.

Even he didn't want himself.

He had done so many things in his life, things that he regretted now though he hadn't back then when committing them. One of the resolves that had taken shape within him since his first meeting with a certain spirit detective had set him on a rocky path of redemption was to avoid bringing any unnecessary pain to those who did not deserve it.

Hurting his sister would definitely constitute a breaking of that resolve.

She didn't know. It didn't matter. He knew, and that was enough. He would continue to watch his sister from afar, doing his duty to her if she was unaware of his responsibility.

And part of that obligation was attending her wedding.

He couldn't believe he was now related to that idiot, Kuwabara.

Inwardly shuddering in revulsion, he consoled himself with the thought that he could always kill his new…brother-in-law if he did anything to make his sister cry. Slightly cheered by the possibility of having an excuse to rid himself of his newest relation, he almost missed the small sideways glance that one of the guests was casting his way.

It was Ruri.

He tensed, old memories and pains stirred as he regarded her warily, his mother's old friend and the one who had been commissioned to throw him off of his birthplace in Koorime when he was still a baby. As he watched, she merely inclined her head unobtrusively in acknowledgment before turning back to talking with the other female ice youkai, obviously from the same clan considering their similar tastes in attire, who had come to witness the matrimony of one of their younger sisters.

It was then that he realized that Ruri was perhaps the only one from Koorime that knew who he was, his relation to Yukina. It was just as obvious that she hadn't told anyone about their encounter all those years ago or, if she had, they were acting as if they were not in possession of such knowledge and treated him no differently than they were everyone else. In short, the Koorime were ignoring all the guests aside from the groom who weren't male as was the habit of the tightly knit all-female clan.

Either way, whether they knew or not, he was positive that the knowledge of the truth behind his relationship to Yukina would not be revealed to her by anyone from Koorime. If a part of him felt hollow at that thought, he ignored it. It was better this way.

She could never, ever know.

That had been the bargain, the exchange for his Jagan.

He didn't know what would happen if he were to go back on his word and, as the rules of the bargain fell into line with his own goals, he didn't care to push it and find out. As long as he knew and could watch over her, it was enough. She was one of the few spots of purity in his life, making him feel that he was not totally lost to the dark, and he cherished the tie. But he felt that were the truth of their relationship were known, he feared it would have the opposite effect on her, causing her purity to be tarnished by the blackness that surrounded his life. Even if it was only paranoia, he wouldn't risk it, risk her.

It was enough as things were. It was.

It had to be.

Uncomfortable with a welling darkness within himself that couldn't possibly be emptiness, he sought distraction. Tearing his gaze from the cluster of Koorime women, his gaze scanned the hall decorated in various shades of red and white (it had been the love-struck idiot groom's idea to hold the wedding on the human's Valentine's Day, something about the ultimate romantic atmosphere - whatever the hell that meant, Hiei really hadn't cared to pursue it and still had no intentions of doing so when it was obviously going to be stupid) until his eyes came to rest on the scene taking place on the dance floor.

From his seat at the table, Hiei had the perfect unwanted view of that human woman still dancing with the kitsune, this time to a livelier and more jovial tune. But he'd seen that particular show before. No, what caught his attention was the approach to the dancing pair by their spirit detective `leader.'

No doubt, he was coming to claim his fiancé.

He sneered as he watched her change partners, this time with the man whom he somehow felt was starting to become one of the banes of his existence merely by his particular association with his other bane. He had the pleasure of seeing the detective stumble and step on her feet; she winced in pain but continued dancing, even laughed and kissed him softly on the cheek while he blushed bright red and smiled back nervously.

That sight, too, made him hot. But in a different way than earlier.

Definitely not a good way.

Watching them, Hiei felt sick. But it was justified; that scene had been nauseating. Really, how could she reward such a stupid and clumsy action with a kiss?

And just when had he started thinking of her kisses as rewards?

Feeling sick, this time with himself, he was sure he was spiraling towards insanity. No doubt, it had to be the effects of restraining his naturally violent urges in an effort to win a war that was becoming more ridiculous the longer it went on. That human was nothing more than a giant headache and he would do well to just walk away from the silly battle despite the slight humiliation he might face at forfeiting.

Anything had to be better than this.

What else could he do?

“Ask her.”

For a split-second, he'd thought he'd spoken out loud. But reality and instinct kicked in and he whirled in his seat, zeroing in on the owner of that pervasive whisper who was leaning casually against a nearby wall. Hiei couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the kitsune's presence. Apparently his preoccupation had been too deep, another blame to lay at her feet. And, even more, he couldn't believe the implications behind those two whispered words.

“Kurama,” he acknowledged, proud of the neutrality of his tone. He was positive no one would be able to tell just how hard-won it was. “What are you talking about?”

The kitsune wasn't buying it. “I think you know.”

“And if I don't?”

“Well, you never struck me as being particularly dense. But, if you insist…”

Hiei bristled, glaring at his so-called friend.

“…I do believe there's a certain firefly dressed in pink that's held your attention for the better part of this reception.”

“Don't you think you're just imagining things?”

“Not really.” The kitsune studied him in silence for a moment before, as if coming to some sort of decision, gave an easy shrug. “But I guess even I can be mistaken every so often, especially since you seem so certain.”

Hiei's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He knew the kitsune well enough to not be fooled by this sudden capitulation.

“It's really just as well, I suppose,” he remarked as he straightened from the wall. “If you don't want to try your hand at catching a firefly, there's always someone else who will.”

Hiei stiffened, stifling the automatic protest that rose to his lips.

But it seemed that the redhead didn't even take notice of that telling action as his gaze seemed to settle on a particular spot on the dance floor. Reluctantly following the direction of that stare, Hiei had a feeling he knew what the object of attention was even before his eyes came to rest upon a certain dancing couple that the kitsune was intently studying with a focus that he was all too familiar with. He'd seen it on the kitsune often enough in the past, a predatory gaze that he assumed just before he was about to go in for the kill.

And he rarely ever let his prey escape.

“Wait!” Hiei involuntarily called out when the kitsune began making his way towards the dance floor. “You can't.”

“Oh?” A red brow arched lazily. “Why not?”

He felt like he was choking on the words. “What if she's already taken?”

“The firefly? Don't be silly. Even if she is, a firefly still has some free will and a choice of whom she wants to be caught by. With the right coaxing, the firefly can escape and settle on a new catcher. It might be a bit risky, but love makes it all worth it. Don't you think so, Hiei?”

With a wink, the kitsune strode away and left a very angry and confused Hiei behind. He'd never mentioned the L-word to anyone. Apparently his friend really did know everything. It still made him intensely uncomfortable and he tried to forget that he had those kinds of feelings harbored within him. And he'd thought he'd been successful and was sure he'd forgotten all about it for a while until that word was brought up again.

Damn kitsune.

And damn her as well.

He tried not to think about her, about the things she made him feel that still gave him too many uneasy moments for his comfort. But it was impossible; he never managed to tear himself away from her completely no matter how hard he tried. The space she occupied in his life seemed to be expanding whether he wanted it to or not.

And he didn't want it.

Or, at least, he didn't want to want it.

Too late. It looked as if the kitsune was going after what he had professed not to want.

Angry and inexplicably aching, feeling uncharacteristically lost and cast adrift, he was torn by too many conflicting emotions until he wasn't even sure what one thing he wanted to do more than the other. For sure, he didn't want to watch the kitsune do what he did best - steal a treasure.

Not wanting to see, the urge to just be away riding him, he left the hall quickly and quietly, sure that his presence would not be missed.

He never noticed a firefly in pink watching him leave.

oOoOoOo

As soon as she could excuse herself from the party, Keiko did so, intent on following the departing Hiei. She wanted to apologize and call a halt to the little war they'd been waging. It was childish, making her feel ridiculous, and she was finding the constant uncharacteristic treatment of another person with icy disdain an unpleasant chore. Plus, she been thinking about him, perhaps more than she'd like to admit even to herself. From the information she'd garnered about his background from a few things that Yusuke and some of the others had mentioned, she came to the conclusion that he couldn't help be so unthinkingly insulting and what he'd said to her hadn't even been that personal, not to him anyway. His harsh rudeness was a defense mechanism he'd no doubt developed as a means of survival in a land that probably treated him more cruelly than she could even imagine.

Was it any wonder he was such an ass?

She was ashamed of herself for being so blind to her injured ego, allowing the initial insult he'd dealt her to color her perception of him in favor of seeking retribution for her hurt. It was unfair of her and she could only marvel at the odd effect he had on her that caused her to behave so unlike her usual self.

For while, she'd even thought she hated him.

She, who could never bring herself to really hate anyone.

Of course, considering what her feelings really were, hate would be easier to explain.

It embarrassed her to think that, even when she had thought him a complete and utter cold-hearted bastard, she had still felt a certain pull towards him. Attraction would be a better word to describe what she felt for him, if she was completely honest with herself.

However, it was not her feelings towards him that made her follow him. Well, maybe a little. Realizing that she cared for him, jerk though he was, she wanted to set things right between them. Or, at least, as right as they could be. Considering his weird icy-hot temperament, she was pretty sure he wouldn't make it easy and was prepared to steel herself against his smugness at having her concede the field of warfare in a bid for truce.

She hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

Wandering the halls, she wondered where he had disappeared to. A sense of urgency gripped her; she'd made up her mind but she needed to let him know what she'd made up. And, from her understanding, he was going to return to Makai once the reception was over. But she was well aware of the youkai's dislike of crowds and wouldn't put it past him to find an excuse that would allow him to slip away from the noisiness earlier than initially planned. He didn't hold much sacred and, with the wedding long over with, she had the feeling that a reception was nowhere near the same level.

Damn him, he'd better not have left after she'd made up her mind to apologize!

Where the hell was he?!

A flicker of movement outside, near a tree in the yard, caught her eye and she paused, recognizing the familiar figure. She fought back her anger - wouldn't do to end up yelling insults before the apology - and made her way cautiously towards him, hoping he was in a receptive mood. No sooner had her foot touched off the wooden walkway edging the building and onto rustling grass than his reaction upon noticing her presence was immediate.

She gasped as he whirled on her, eyes glinting red and vicious.

“What the hell do you want?” he snarled.

And she thought that maybe this was a big mistake, after all…

~ end chapter one ~