Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Five Hundred Years ❯ Five Hundred Years ( Chapter 1 )

 

Five Hundred Years

 

He is angry with me tonight. I know this, and yet there is nothing I can do. I turn my face away from the hard glare he chooses to send my way and very deliberately try to focus my attention on the plants at my side. I caress a few tender petals between my fingertips, wondering at the soft, fluid sensation of their most delicate flesh. He is like them, although I would never dare to say so aloud. Dangerous, surrounded by thorns and threatening in all manners of the word, and beneath - nothing but tenderness.

 

Am I deluding myself? Most likely.

 

“Fox … let me out of here.”

 

I close my eyes and sigh, my shoulders drooping of their own accord. Just once … is it foolish to believe that just once he could welcome my presence? A hello, how are you, even something as simple as a Get Lost would be fine. Something other than those same five words. I have heard them so many times by now that I no longer feel surprise at hearing them. To be devoid of their ever constant reminder would be the greatest surprise of all, I suppose.

 

“… you know I can't do that.”

 

“Bullshit!”

 

He leaps to his feet and stalks toward me. Defeated, I now know what kind of night this will be. His moods may flicker random and hot and fierce … but after five hundred years even unexpected outbursts become mundane. It is the same old argument, to be spoken nearly word for word as it has been a million times before. As much as I want to free him I cannot - it is not within my power.

 

Like much that is not within his own control, he refuses to accept this. He resents me and all that I represent because off all that he cannot touch, I am the only thing he can.

 

He doesn't hit me this time; I am snatched forward, his fists clenching in my shirt as he forces me to face him. I can do nothing but meet his gaze, and those dark crimson eyes sear through me, straight into my very heart and soul. I expect a harsh word from him, more curses, more threats. Instead, he does something he has never done before.

 

He kisses me, his lips pressed against mine hard and quick and as sure as his very presence before me. He is so warm, so filled with an inner fire that it spreads through me as quick as lightening and I begin to burn.

 

“Find a way.” he whispers, looking down and to the side. “Find a way, fox.”

 

~@~

 

When I open my eyes my heart is racing and for the moment the mere thought of breath escapes me. I sit up quickly, my hair falling forward to hide my view of the world for a few moments more … I touch my lips, still tingling and warm from a kiss that had never met them in flesh. He had …

 

“Kurama-san, are you awake?”

 

Startled, I look to the door of my chambers, blinking at the young ice maiden standing there, fully dressed and ready for the day. I should be ashamed, sitting here still in my bed, neither clothed properly nor prepared for her entrance, still flushed by memories of a dream that shouldn't have affected me as much as it had. It takes a full minute for my mind to catch up with all of these realizations, and another to even dredge up a response to them. In that lapse of time she must have realized something was amiss, as she invites herself in and crosses quickly to my side to take my hand. “Kurama-san … is everything - well?”

 

Try as I might, I cannot force myself to meet those crimson eyes, so like his. “He is … angry with me.”

 

She understands, as I knew she would. His anger, always so strong and so forceful, often left me unsettled in the mornings but never … never like this. Heat creeps up into my cheeks and I hastily pull my hand away from hers, hiding the motion as I gather my hair back and pull it over my shoulder. She steps away comfortably as I move to rise from bed, her tiny hands fluttering to clasp in front of her as she gives a small, respectful bow of her head. Unconsciously I return it as I head toward my closet. Her voice follows me as she does not, clearly heard as I draw the curtain in order to dress.

 

“Takakei-sensei is to come today. They have already contacted and will be here within the hour. There are thirty-four students to come, twenty of whom are male, thirteen of whom are female. The cook is already preparing and wishes me to ask if you have any particular requests today.”

 

I finish pulling on a clean shirt, dragging my hair from the collar before answering. “No, Yukina-chan. Anything the cook would like to fix is welcome.” A soft rustle of cloth indicates that she is offering another bow; her near-silent footsteps nearly reach the door before I hurriedly think to brush the curtain aside and add, “Ah, Yukina -”

 

She hesitates, a pleasant look over her features as she calmly waits my request. Such a wonderful child, so full of kindness and charm … I could never find it within my heart to find thanks enough for her presence all of these long years. “Please … if you think of anything you would like, be sure to let the cook know, and that shall be our meals for today.”

 

I have surprised her; she beams and nods a quick little bow again before slipping out the door. It shuts behind her and I am left alone once more, standing in my rooms with nothing but a memory …

 

Another day. Perhaps this one, my anxious firefly … Perhaps this one will be the day.

 

Shaking the thought away - it would not do to hope and be forced to recognize failure again, after all - as I move to the balcony of my rooms and am greeted by the day. The skies and air are so open and wide and clear, the sun so comforting as it brushes its warm rays against my skin. For a time I can do nothing except stand there and bathe in the sensations open to my living form. So many times I have wished to bottle this feeling up - this multitude of sensations - and take it back with me to give to him. I want him to experience what he has not known for so long. I am also selfish; I want to see the look on his face as he enjoys that which I take for granted far too often. I want to give him this gift, and be the object of his thanks.

 

It would only make him angry, though. I have known him too long by now to try and delude myself into thinking otherwise. Instead of cherishing that which I had brought him, it would only make him more sullen and angry, more insistent that I find some way to free him from his prison. The real question is - do I want him freed?

 

As he is now, he is mine and mine alone. No one can hear him, touch him, be with him, except me. I am his keeper - the only one who has access to him where he is now. Do I really want to give him back to the world that had so foolishly let him go before?

 

If I were to be honest with myself the answer would be just as likely no as yes. I am divided on both accounts, something that not even fifty years of deliberation has been able to change or sway. I want him to be happy - which would mean free - and yet I also want him for my very own. I don't want to give him up just yet.

 

Not that the choice is mine to make; I am honor-bound to atonement for what I had done so many years ago. Perhaps I am too hard on myself - many have been the times that he has told me so - and guilt is misplaced more often than not. Just as I pull myself out of the misery of regrets best left alone, though, I am always reminded of the darkness he is in, constantly and forever, save for the few moments he has with me when I reach out to him in my dreams. To think of how I would feel, lost within that abyss of shear nothingness, cold and utterly alone ... my guilt always comes back, hard on the heels of misery. I am bitter, and I am shamed, and every day it seems harder and harder to rise and face the world.

 

~@~

 

“Ah, Kurama-san. There you are.”

 

He approaches me, reaching out to take my hand in both of his own in a warm gesture of welcome. I allow it and even offer a smile, sad though it may be. “Good morning, Takakei-sensei. I trust the journey was well?”

 

He raises a brow and looks back to two boys standing looking a bit sheepish and grudging by the side. “As well as can be expected with those two along. Forgive me, Kurama-san, but I must beg your pardon in advance for any insolence or trouble they are in this event. They by no means reflect the whole demeanor of our classes and school.”

 

I glance at them, noting the rather bored look of the shorter, darker boy and the itchy, aggravated look of the taller one. It was rather obvious that the second young man wants to respond and is held in check - just barely - by the sense of bare-threaded respect humans now held for one another. Or maybe he just didn't want to get in trouble again.

 

Neither seemed to be too impressed with what they took to be just another human about their own age speaking with their sensei. I reassure Takakei that I would not hold their actions against him or his school. Quite relieved, he turns to gather his students together in a more manageable form.

 

Yukina ghosts up to my side, dressed simply in a pale green gown with a cream-toned apron over it; she folds her hands in front of her waist as she moves to look curiously around at all the young humans gathered so near. I had kept her apart from the classes for the most part and had never allowed her to come forth due to the repercussions that could come of her own safety being jeopardized. I was unwilling to risk it and had simply forbid her previous requests. She had always disappointed, although she tried so hard not to show it. Timid as she was, she was also curious by nature and eager in a way to see what she never had before; at a loss, I had sought his advice.

 

What does it matter, fox? She'll find out about them sooner or later. Best to show her where you can protect her, than have her go off somewhere you can't.

 

He was right, of course. He always was.

 

So this one time I had rescinded and she was to give the tour with me. Her presence, once realized, creates an instant stir within the student body. Gasps and near-silent murmurs from most of the females draw even more attention to her until everyone is straining for a look.

 

“Oh, my god, is that -”

 

“Sensei is she -”

 

“- a real demon, look Kotori - a real -”

 

Takakei tries to quiet them as Yukina flushes by my side. I ignore them for a moment and instinctively move to reach out to her, barely managing to stop myself from doing so. I do not want to demean her or myself in such a blatant display of fondness, considering she is supposed to be acting as my servant. I can not afford to show weakness, not in that manner. “Yukina …” I murmur, waiting until she looks up before asking, “Are you all right?”

 

“Oh - yes.” She nods quickly, flushing again as her eyes lower to the floor. “Their attention …”

 

“Is to be expected. Let me know if you need to leave.”

 

She bows her head. “Hai, Kurama-san.”

 

In short order Takakei has his classes in line and begins to rattle off a list of rules and regulations. The humans, by habit more than true obedience, listen to him and refrain from making any more comments toward Yukina's presence. They do continue to sneak glances her way.

 

I step forward as Takakei moves aside, taking his place and withholding the focus of the students. “Good morning. My name is Kurama. I am the owner of all that you see here.” I lift my hands and indicate the huge antechamber they stand in, the open walls leading out into rolling green gardens or further into the castle in which we stood.

 

“Yare, yare, we know all that already … so - where are the demons?”

 

A quip comes from Yukina behind me as I turn to meet the dark brown eyes of the shorter trouble-maker I had been forewarned about. Urameshi Yusuke…

 

I close my eyes and let my form go, allowing the Power to rise within me and brush away the remnants of my human body. My hearing becomes more acute, picking up each near-silent gasp or gargle or stunned sound of shock as they see the mild, red-haired young man they had assumed to be human simply disappear. In his place would stand a youko nearly a half-foot taller with hair like threaded silk and garments of flowing white … both of them, as real to me as the other.

 

He once accused me of being a show-off and I guess that is so. I wanted to startle the boy and yet, when I opened my eyes once more, he is still standing as he had before, those dark brown eyes unimpressed, one brow lifted in a bare show of surprise. Urameshi Yusuke…

 

“You are already looking at two.”

 

Perhaps … perhaps this one will be the day.

 

~@~

 

I had set this arrangement up somewhere around the tenth year, hoping against hope that having fresh blood enter these walls would help speed up the processes of his freedom. He hadn't been encouraging of the idea, but it at least seemed to be a proactive attempt and at that time anything was better to him than nothing.

 

“How exactly are humans supposed to get me out of here?”

 

He didn't have to finish the thought for me to hear the accusation at the end. It was my fault, after all, that landed him in the darkness in which he remained - how could I possibly hope that a mere human could counteract the shear Power at my disposal? They couldn't. “Not just any human - only one. One very specific human, with a very developed soul.”

 

I can still hear his disbelieving grunt as he turned away. He kicked out at a tree - a mere fabrication I had formed, a short burst of scenery, in which to create some sort of oasis within the void and absence he was trapped in. His fury - still so fresh and strong - burned it away to stump and ash before he stood there brooding, hands clenched by his side. Back then I dared not touch him or even get near him; to do so would be to instantly sign my death warrant. I left the tree as it was, and made sure to correct it the next night as I came to him.

 

So many years, so many long nights with him … to lose that … I am ashamed to admit how much I do not want him to be set free. If I breathed a word of it to him he would kill me without a second thought - or so I assumed.

 

I try to focus as I put up a front of showing them around what I displayed as my `home.' I take them into my flesh-eating gardens, lead them through the zoo-like compounds holding numerous, less-developed demons, and guide them through the different chambers, all the while keeping up a narrative as if my sole purpose was to teach them of my world. That had been the agreement, after all - I would pretend to teach them. Send an invite to the human world, let them know that I would be willing to teach a limited number of humans year in and year out of the smallest portions of the demon world, warn them against the dangers. All, in the feeble hope that one - only one, amongst them all - would have a spirit power strong enough to release him.

 

Like an itch in the back of my mind it plagues me as it always does, the urge to take them straight down to the bottom most floors and cut to the chase - put them to the test and be done with it - and yet I have to keep up appearances. I bid myself patience.

 

When we come close I turn to Yukina and send her away; she knows nothing of what exactly happened to her brother and I choose to keep it that way. Like many decisions I make now, he had been involved in that one as well and I abided by his choice. He wanted to keep Yukina from as much harm and concern as possible. Had she known where he was and what had happened, that joyful peace in her eyes would be replaced by sadness, grief, and anxious worry. In this, too, am I selfish, as she is my light and my positive regard when I have none; to dampen that glow even just a little would be like shattering my already fragile heart and come what may I do not think I would be able to continue on.

 

After the monsters and wild natures they have seen thus far, the humans have become far more interested in the foreign intrigues of my abode itself to notice a single demon, so meek and mild, leave their presence. Two take notice and only one with a lingering sense of regret. I watch the taller of the two trouble-makers carefully, taking note of his reaction as she tucks a curtsy in my direction and moves away. He blushes as he watches her leave, oblivious to the others as they crowd closer to inspect the huge doors to the lower dungeons. Kuwabara Kazuma …

 

Yusuke spares her a glance before elbowing his friend in the gut, causing Kuwabara to lead into a barrage of curses and threats; ignoring them as routine, Yusuke then cuts a glare in my direction, ever distrustful. This whole time he has looked toward me like that, as if he expects me to cut loose and maim them all. He seems - prepared - for it.

 

It is enough to make me wonder, although I still do not dare to hope. When Yukina is well and truly gone I brush the thought away and very carefully unlock the door. As always my palms hesitate on the wood and I must send a prayer to any gods that may be listening. Forgive me …

 

In any case, the chambers below are fairly unremarkable to the students as they press in to wander around the shady darkness. It is cooler down here, the marble not so bright and lit with a false sense of cheer as it was above. There are no candles or torches, no lights, and yet not even total darkness would dare to take and hide the secret that is kept here.

 

“Within these chambers there is an old legend, created many, many years ago, of a foolish prince, a deadly assassin, and the strongest youkai of all three kingdoms.” I move to stand in front of them, right next to a patch of the wall that is darkened and stained. Perhaps out of a sense of remembrance, I cannot help but reach behind me in a subtle gesture lost on most, pressing my hand to the cold, cold marble of the wall. It snatches what little warmth I have away and just the mere touch chills me to the bone. Yet within it I can feel the barest feathers of warmth, as if a tendril of fire nearly overtaken by the cold had reached out on its own brush a finger along my palm. I shiver, swallowing the gasp that rises to my lips as I hastily snatch my hand back. “Once, a thousand, thousand years ago -” More accurately, five hundred. “The prince's home was infiltrated by the strongest of all youkai. He wanted the Power that the prince held - a Power unrivalled by any other - but one which had never been properly trained or used. The assassin came close behind, intent on silencing the strongest of all youkai before he could get any further in his wish to dominate the demon world…”

 

~@~

 

Like always after hosting such a tour, I do not go straight to him in my dreams. I am held instead within that horrible night so many years ago that had taken our lives and tied our destinies together, bound so tightly for so long. I can feel his hand still holding tight to mine - Don't let me go! - my arm going cold, so frighteningly cold. I can feel the fear as it rises within me just as it had that night, as first my hand, then my wrist and finally up to my elbow disappeared into the wall. And my bodyguard's voice, behind me, telling me to hold tight, that we would pull him out together but that I must hold strong to him and not let him go …

 

It is a mistake I regret every day.

 

“You couldn't have known.”

 

He is there, coming to sit at my side where I am resting on a stone, the trapped memories disappearing. Here we remain, in the bare oasis I have created as just one measure of my atonement. “I should have known.”

 

He doesn't have an answer for that and just sits beside me, staring off into the distance as I bury myself further in regret. I relive the nightmare over and over, in my thoughts this time, as he remains quiet and undisturbed. Warm fingers brush along the back of my knuckles; he takes my hand in his and holds tight. I look up to him, startled, but he ignores my reaction and continues to stubbornly contemplate the blank horizon. I can see the faintest hints of darkness on his cheeks … is he blushing?

 

My heart trips over itself and I quickly try to wipe any thoughts that may provoke from my mind. I must concentrate … I must find a way to end this.

 

It's my fault, after all.

 

~@~

 

Foolish and naïve, I had been the one to invite her into what had once been the most impenetrable fortress in the history of all the worlds. I had been the one looking for friendship, and it was my fault that Death was at the door when I bid the servant open it. All of them - my servants, my parents, my brothers and sisters … I could not save any of them. They had fallen before I even realized that was something amiss. The evening had gone well and I - like many others - did not think twice of the stranger in our midst. I had gone to bed with a calm conscience, only to wake in the middle of the night to an empty home with not a single soul left alive to greet me. My heart-rate picks up again unintentionally as I remember running through the halls, panicked and calling for everyone I knew to call for. No one answered. No one except … him.

 

I didn't know who he was - he was just another stranger, someone there that I just as suddenly knew I could trust. He was the first person I saw alive and I clung to him as I attempted to draw my wits about myself. I could fight - I was young, but I had been trained well in that at least and could fight well, to be sure. He had taken my wrist and we had fled. And then … and then …

 

I hold tight to his hand, squeezing it as the violent sounds of a remembered struggle interrupt the quiet of the jungle oasis. The youkai - the one who now embodied the concept of Death itself to me - had demanded the Power and I had refused. My bodyguard, ripe with spiritual Power and prepared to protect me to the ends of his life, found us then. He had struck and so had the stranger - no longer such a stranger - and they had fought together, against the Death that had come. My bodyguard had struck her hard and thrown her against the wall, the spell he used created to make her one with the mortar and stone, body soul and all, doomed to forever be the strength of the fortress she had sought to tear down. With her, Death had grabbed the stranger and I - I had grabbed him as well.

 

As the youkai had disappeared, sucked into the very essence of the marble, so too had he been sucked in and then so too had I. My bodyguard had tried to save me but I was intent on only this - to save him - and so his efforts were lent as well, grabbing his other arm in an attempt to pull him free. The spell was too powerful and the bodyguard too weak; as his spiritual energy burned away and he expired before my eyes I continued to hold tight, desperately trying to hold on. No … please, don't go - you're the last one here - there is no one else… please, don't leave me alone …

 

I was scared and I was desperate. I had never been alone and feared such things as any young child does. The Power within me had come alive and reached out to him … before throwing me back and free. I had leapt to my feet and run back, hitting the stone with hands, fists, feet … but there was nothing more I could do. He was gone.

 

Here, within my dreams, when my untrained Power lay at its strongest, I have access to him. I can talk to him, interact with him. Here, to me, he is still alive. I must only find a way to free his soul from the spell, where it lays cocooned, safe within the shields my Power had placed around him that last moment, unable to die, unable to live and be free.

 

His sister, three years after his imprisonment, came looking for him. She had no idea what happened, and I did not tell her.

 

“I am a coward.”

 

He spares a glance down at me and at first I don't think he'll respond. After all that has happened, he must agree I think, and I am shamed to realize that. “No. You made a mistake. That's all.”

 

I look up at him and for once neither one of us looks away. We are always dodging one another, embarrassed or shamed in turns for our actions or words - either in the past, or in the present - but for now, at this moment, we both forget. I am grateful for his thoughtful words, as they come so rarely, and his forgiveness. He does not blame me - he perhaps never really has. That does not mean that I have not blamed myself.

 

He releases my hand and reaches up slowly to brush a few tendrils of hair behind my ear. His thumb lingers at my cheek and his eyes, so dark and mysterious, soften as they look on me. Unbidden I remember the last time we were together, his altogether unexpected actions, and I cannot stop my heart from fluttering in anticipation. A corner of his lip quirks up as he feels my emotions clearly - it is my dream and as such the very oasis itself trembles with all that I am - and he closes the distance between us. His lips, so soft and warm, press against my forehead and linger, trailing down my temple, my cheek, his breath hot and moist against my neck. His touch is an echo, a mere ghost-like touch before his lips rise to tease the corner of my own …

 

I am up and out of the bed, running before I even realize what I have left behind, unfinished in my dream. I can feel a great disturbance, a well of spiritual energy close by and am consumed by nothing more than the driving need to find whatever being could create such a strong aura. Yukina comes from her room in a fright, calling out to me as I dart past; I do not spare her even a glance, desperate as I am to find -

 

There! I skid to a halt outside, where two boys are in a rather heated argument with one another over some trivial matter. Their words strangle off at my abrupt entrance and I am left to stare in shock at the two trouble-makers from earlier today. Urameshi Yusuke and Kuwabara Kazuma …

 

Both of them are giving off such amazing spiritual energy that I am momentarily stunned. To think that one human could be capable of even a fraction of what each boy held individually - I had never hoped to be so lucky. Without plan or forethought I am on them in an instant, grabbing hold and running back into my home, down the halls and into the lower most dungeons. They do not come quietly or willingly, but I am the stronger despite my delicate form and they are simply no match for my desperation. I draw them up to a halt before the darkened patch of wall and whirl on them, refusing to release either for fear that they will flee.

 

“Please - one of you - please help me.” I don't wait for them to understand - I can't. I press both their palms side by side against the wall, my hands so pale lying over their own, and concentrate, gathering the Power within me. I force my will into their own and make their spiritual Power flair in defense, hastily grabbing it with mine and throwing all that I am forward.

 

It hits me sharp and painful, a bone-deep chill that rivals the horror of death and hell itself. Holding such a wild mixtures close at my side helps to keep me grounded, yet I can feel it just beyond and I flinch, every instinct within me screaming to go back. This is no place for me - for any creature even half sane. It takes everything I have to move and I try to wade deeper - to find him - to bring him back. It doesn't want me here, has hated me from the beginning, and the cold starts eating away at my flesh and soul. It doesn't want to let him go, all the more because he has come to mean so much to me. It can somehow sense it in the dark nothing that it is; malevolence comes from it in cloying waves that threaten to overtake me.

 

I refuse to give in; it will have to kill me before I will bend to surrender. 

 

Against my hands I feel something different - a combined touch like nothing I've ever felt before. The spiritual Power ... Neither warm nor cold, it cuts through the darkness and chill slowly, making a gradual space where there had been none before. I don't wait for it to be cleared completely; I have waited too long for this moment to depend solely on someone else's ability. Releasing them I move on directly into the chill, leaving the sanctity of their energy behind. My only hope is that they are strong enough to keep the opening wide enough for him to get out …

 

I am calling for him as loud as I possibly can - an act far more mental than physical - and gradually feel him draw near. Without words I try to tell him by feeling alone. Even as I do so can feel that I am fading, pushed against on all sides by the darkness, and without the Power to protect my life force as it has protected his, I have nothing to withhold me. I am sorry ... At least, you will now be free, Hiei …

 

He must realize my coming death at the same moment I do; I can feel his anger gathering in the cold, the force of his feelings like a furnace growing larger and stronger until it seems to burn the very absence around us. I am hit in the chest, creating a short blossoming of pain that comes and goes just as quickly. Still, I am fading. There is nothing to be done for me … just go … please …

 

His rage is growing stronger by the moment, but I will not be there to see it break free. Even now all sense is being taken from me and I let it; at least in death, there will be no more regrets …

 

Like hell, fox!

 

Quite suddenly I am hit again, so hard it truly feels as if I am dying - or being brought back to life. I am pushed back and abruptly find myself falling, breathless, in one all-too brief moment before reality once again interferes; I land against the concrete floor, skidding back and coming to rest quite some distance away from where I had once stood. My whole body is screaming in pain and yet … there is warmth wrapped around me.

 

Someone is holding me, so tightly I can barely move. I am holding them in return although at first I don't know why - and then I start and open my eyes, hastily pushing away to see -

 

And it is him. He is here, alive, looking down on me with hard crimson eyes both angry and strangely relieved at the same time. “Baka, kitsune …” he whispers. “After all you put me through, do you think I'd just let you up and die? You're not getting out of this that easily.”

 

His grip on my arms is strong - a certain threat - before he releases me, whirling around and rising to his feet as he senses others nearby and is immediately on the defensive. I open my mouth to say something - whether to reassure him or convince myself that he is truly here before me - and before I can utter a single word, the room around me begins to swim. Even though I fight to stay conscious despite the pain and weariness in my soul, my body decides against it and for a time I know nothing more.

 

~ @ ~

 

I don't know when, particularly, our relationship began to change. In the beginning we were enemies and hated one another as much as two beings possibly could. He had a quick and violent temper layered with a ferocity I have never seen before - in anyone. In my younger years I had always been sheltered from such people, and was unused to such verbal abuse. Although normally my own sense of anger is slow to rouse it flared with him often, antagonized by his hatefulness. I tried to be kind time and again, only to have my efforts smacked aside.

 

Both of us would much rather have turned our backs on one another and left each to their own business for eternity. Fate did not approve of such decisions; without either of us choosing it to be so, every night we found ourselves together, bound by a Power I had no control over whatsoever. It took months for us to form some sort of grudging concordance to one another, and years for us to get to the point of being even half-way kind. I can count that one down to a single day - the evening in which I found Yukina, weak and worried and sick with fever on my doorstep. I had tried to get her to rest, only to have her adamantly ignore my insistence until she had asked of her brother and explained the whole tale of her searches throughout the country-side. She had no clue where he had gone and ended up at my home by mere chance because the weather had grown harsh, rain and storms driving her to find shelter at the first abode she came across. She had looked familiar enough to me that I felt I knew who her brother had been, but could not put my finger on who. Not until that night, at least, when I saw him again and recognized the small stature and dark, crimson red eyes. They were like polar opposites - one kind and mild and tender, the other harsh and sharp and often cruel. I almost withheld from him the fact that she was there - I wanted to, out of sheer spite - and yet when he settled to ignore me and an uneasy silence fell between us, my guilt at doing so began nagging me until it became nearly unbearable. I found myself blurting out the truth and was startled to see him immediately snap to attention and focus on me for the first time without any trace of anger. I was bombarded with questions - how was she, how did she look, was she all right, did she say why she was trying to find him- so many and so quickly it was hard for me to catch up and answer them all. Once he had calmed down we spoke at a more leisurely pace and I managed to get a few words from him regarding what he remembered of her, disguising it as an inquiry so I could compare what she was like then and let him know if they were the same or whether there were any major differences.

 

From that point on we were on more level terms with one another, and though we were not really amiable we at least were on speaking terms. He still yelled at me often and we argued and bickered at least a little each night. Somehow it was easier to deal with, as the years wore on and the realization that we had only each other became more apparent. By the fifth year we at long last exchanged names, which did much to alleviate some of the irritation with one another, as now we could cuss each other out directly instead of being forced to make general threats and random curses. It wasn't until the twentieth or twenty-first year before I began to feel a semblance of regret, and the guilt that would come so much a part of me and my thoughts. By then we had begun to talk more often of things both remembered and present; I would sometimes relate my day, being sure to always mention something of Yukina and describe in detail things she had done as well. A few short years later, I stopped defending myself against his tirades. Perhaps he noticed this, as he yelled at me less and less often, only raising his voice and ire when he simply could no longer handle keeping quiet.

 

We became somewhat tenacious friends, and recently something a little more. I grew fond of him and during my days spent many hours thinking of him, quite distracted in what I was supposed to have being doing. Yukina noticed the difference, although she kindly let it pass without comment. As we learned more of each other he, too, seemed to grow closer to me, even coming up with a nickname that somehow made our exchanges more personal. Despite this fact, he never truly showed an interest in becoming more than friends ... until that final night, the eve before I discovered the lives of Urameshi Yusuke and Kuwabara Kazuma.

 

Now, as I drift in and out of restless sleep, I am struck by a sense of loss; for the first time in five hundred years I am truly alone in my dreams. In the foreign way of unconscious thought, I feel a great wave of pity for myself and wish fervently that I could take the last few hours of my waking day away. I did not want to let him go. There is a great pain within me when I think of it, and I know it is my heart breaking. I want to wake up and forget these feelings, as such things are never so strong or all-encompassing as they are in dreams.

 

I don't have too terribly long to wait, as I hear his voice whispering across my thoughts, as soft and fleeting as a butterfly's wing. Wake up, fox ... I told you, you aren't getting out of this that easy.

 

I have no choice as my mind instinctively is drawn toward the whispered presence of his own; I feel the lightest of touches accompany my rise into the waking world, as if he were mentally holding my hand, guiding me back into the light.

 

When I open my eyes I flinch and immediately close them back as pain shears through my skull. Bright mid-day light is filtering through the numerous open windows and balconies of my rooms, spilling brightness from one corner to another until not a single shadow remains. A moment later I timidly try to open my eyes again. This time the pain is not so bad and I lay there a little longer, letting my body adjust until I feel it safe to move. I am lying on my belly, weighted down by far more blankets than normal in my bed. It is a struggle at first to push myself up and just the act of doing so tires me. Setting a hand to my eyes, briefly blocking out the light before brushing my palm up to rest against my forehead, I chance to look up to my surroundings. They are the same rooms that have always greeted me, save for one dark and recent addition.

 

He is sitting on one of the bay windows, his body angled to the side, one leg drawn up as he looks out to the gardens, his arm resting on his knee. At my movements he turns to me, his gaze so quiet and almost threatening as it narrows on me. “It's about bloody time. You sure like to sleep a lot, don't you?” He smirks, showing just a hint of fang. “I wonder why.”

 

  I flush despite myself, which seems to humor him to no end. When I try to speak my voice is hoarse and weak, a bare croak compared to his smooth baritone. “Where … the humans - are they all right?”

 

He stands and approaches me, never once looking away or hesitating in his pace. “They're fine. I wiped their memories and sent them home.”

 

  I shiver unexpectedly as he stops to stand in front of me, only a few inches away. Instinctively I have the urge to reach out and touch him, if only to convince myself he is solid and real. I push this aside, only to have my mouth forms words that I never in my life would have uttered before this all began. “Can you … wipe my mind, too?”

 

As soon as the question is out I immediately wish to take it back. I don't want to have my memory taken, not really. Sure, it would relieve me of the burden I have carried these past years and release all the guilt that has been gnawing at me for so long. But to be forced to forget all those long nights alone with him … Instead of taking it back I simply wait, timidly curious as to what he will say. Will he agree to it? Will he be eager to do it?

 

He looks on me long and hard, his gaze bordering on a mixture of anger and - something else. We wait in tense silence for what seems a long, long time before he finally states in a flat tone, “No.”

 

There is so much finality in that one word that I dare not ask why. He takes the choice from me anyway, crossing his arms over his chest, that dark look still on his features. “I can't; your Power is too strong. Even if I could, I wouldn't. I'd hate to remember you as you are, only to have to introduce myself and start all over.” Irony twists his mouth in a smirk. “Besides, you were quite a spoiled brat when we first met.”

 

“And you were the biggest ass I'd ever met!” I glare at him, a brief surge of irritation taking over before I can stamp it down. I must be more tired than I thought, if I have no more control over myself than that. My cheeks grow warm and I look down quickly, breathing a weak apology, “… sorry.”

 

Just as my irritation came and went, I feel a surge of anger from him. “Don't apologize!” At my startled look he frowns and calms himself back down, “Don't ever apologize to me again, Kurama. I'm tired of hearing it, and it's about time you get over yourself.”

 

“Get over myself?” I am confused and know I look it; he does not bother to explain. After a few moments of silence I begin to get uneasy. Searching for something else to bring up, I look down at the covers. Taking a fistful - there are at least five in my grip alone, plus more beneath - I lift them up a little and send him a curious glance, one brow lifted in inquiry.

 

The smirk comes back, true humor behind those crimson eyes as they meet my own again. “Yukina. When you came out your heart-rate and blood pressure dropped; you felt like ice for a long time and she was worried.”

 

“Yukina? Is she -”

 

“Fine.”

 

I glance anxiously at the door, so used to her coming in by now that her absence has just now occurred to me as odd. He follows my look and when he turns back there seems to be an air of satisfaction about him, as if he is pleased at my obvious concern for her. “Have you - spoken with her yet?”

 

“Yes. We had a very - enlightening - conversation.” His eyes hold a little bit more of the humor, although I cannot in the world think why. The way he said it makes me terribly self-conscious and I quickly get the feeling I was the main subject of their `conversation.'

 

My ears burn and I am mortified at my own lack of bodily control. Why the hell am I blushing so much?! “Oh. That's good.” Mentally I slap myself - what the hell is that?! `That's good'? What in the world is wrong with me?! I cough a little in attempt to hide my own mental argument before squeaking out, “Well … I guess you'll both be leaving, then, right? Not like you'd want to stay around here and all, with everything …”

 

Again, I want to take the words back but not enough to really do so. I don't know why I said it or why I chose to push our conversation so far. All I know is that the thought of him leaving brings that dull pain back to my chest and I am once again reminded of my dream. Suddenly the breaking of my heart doesn't seem such a far-off memory.

 

I don't have time to feel sorry for myself long; my knees are grabbed and I am abruptly snatched to the end of the bed, shocked to find myself staring into hard, angry crimson eyes barely an inch from my own. He grabs my chin in his hand and glares down at me, snarling, “What the hell is wrong with you? You think you can just snatch me out of my life and then throw me back out without so much as a by-your-leave? You plan on just kicking me out on my ass after five hundred years of aggravating me every night, filling my thoughts with nothing but you and what you've come to mean to me? You think you can just toss me aside, after I've been stuck for years with nothing but my own mind during the daylight hours, plaguing me with thoughts of what I'd like to do to you?”

 

Needless to say I am shocked and stare at him stupidly, unable to come up with a legitimate reply. My mind is still stuck on the first few sentences, carefully dissecting every word and phrase until the end, only to turn around and backtrack and do it again. He … what?

 

“Hiei …”

 

His anger calms a little; it's an obvious effort of will on his part, just showing exactly how much restraint he had to teach himself for my sake. His gaze narrows on mine again. “I've told you twice now, baka kitsune. You are not going to get out of this that easily.”

 

The next thing I know his mouth is on mine and I am holding on, swept up in a tidal-wave of emotion that he has somehow drawn up within me and let loose. He hands bury themselves in my hair, tenderly gripping the back of my head and brushing his thumb along my jaw as he stands over me, his lips parting my own as he takes the simple kiss deeper. My thoughts scatter; all I can do is hold tight to him and enjoy the wild nature that is the fire demon I have come to love.

 

“Kurama-san…"

 

The door opens and he releases me, leaning back as his hands fall to his sides. I can't gather my wits quick enough; I end up staring across the room, barely seeing Yukina where she stands smiling in that peaceful way I have always known. I am disheveled and flushed, my heart-rate beating so quickly I can scarcely breathe. May the gods bless her, as she looks past it and proceeds to act as if nothing is amiss.

 

“H-Hai, Yukina-chan?”

 

“Good morning!” I blink at the rather unexpected remark, then realize her grin is just a little too large and pleased. She looks quite like the cat that has caught the mouse. Suspicion gathers slowly as I glance from her to Hiei; he stands unfazed, still looking to her as well. “I have taken it upon myself to cancel the school tours for the rest of this week, and the cook is asking if you have any preferences for lunch?”

 

“Um … not really.” I reply weakly, wavering. She's so bright and happy - so full of life. I wonder why I never noticed how dim she was this whole time; probably because I had never seen her any other way. “Whichever you choose is fine.”

 

She nods and dips a short bow before perking back up and looking to her brother. “Hiei-san, the tailors and arms-crafters are here. I have asked them to wait in the study until you are ready to see them.”

 

“Thank you, Yukina.”

 

She dips a second bow and practically floats from the room, pointedly closing it behind her. I am still stunned when I turn back to Hiei. He remains close to me and I just now realize the rather compromising position we are in; he is standing between my legs, his hips warm against my inner thighs. I am wearing nothing but a nightshirt, which leaves the coarse black material of his pants the only thing separating us. Damn… I feel myself growing warm and curse myself again as I blush so hard I feel as if my face is on fire. I manage another weak cough, trying to get myself under control. It doesn't help any when he turns his eyes back down to me, his gaze so intent and dark, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips at my unease.

 

I find myself breathless again, shifting a little restlessly as I subtly try to make sure I am sufficiently covered. I can't stand the silence for much longer and leap on the last sentence my mind had heard and understood. “Anou … arms-crafters?”

 

“Yeah.” Hiei crosses his arms and casts a glance around the room, all too casual in a way that instantly makes me suspicious again. “I've been told you haven't had a sufficient bodyguard around here since that night. That's incredibly stupid, even for you.”

 

It's true - I hadn't wanted anyone. A place deep inside of me had half-wished for someone - whether demon or human - to come and rip down my door and finish what had been started. Although I didn't actively seek death, for the longest time I was not opposed to it at all. When Yukina came I had gotten used to being practically the only one here and hadn't thought to look to hire someone else. Stupid of me, yes. I hadn't even thought then that I was perhaps putting Yukina in danger with my actions - or lack of.

 

I think I know what he's getting at, and I am right.

 

“So, I figure I'll take the position.” His eyes meet mine again, strong and self-possessed, quite confident that I will not disagree. I don't think I really would have a choice in the matter, even if I did disagree.

 

Gradually the full realization of his declaration comes to me; he isn't leaving. He is going to stay here, with me. I open my mouth, unsure of what to say, and he conveniently takes advantage of my position to kiss me again. This time it is softer, slower, and I melt under the attention given. I wrap my arms around him, keeping him close and bathing in his warmth like I had always fantasized of doing. He remains close, his breath warm on my lips as he pulls away just enough to murmur quietly, “You'll never be left alone again, fox. I promise.”

 

His words cause my heart to soar; it is a brief feeling of euphoria before I am shoved roughly to fall back on the bed, the wind knocked out of me by force. He climbs up to kneel over me and smirks down in the face of my surprise. “Besides, you have a lot to make up for, after keeping me hostage for five hundred years.”

 

I have only a moment for one last thought before he captures me once more, effectively wiping any and all coherency from my mind.

 

Looks like those arms-crafters might be waiting quite a while … ne?