Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ The Legacy ❯ Farewell ( Chapter 3 )

Thanks for the comments and quality feedback! Yeah, angst and romance just usually aren't my style for some reason...
Finally, some coverage of “Special Day” so my readers won't get so confused. It's actually flattering to have a story that really connects with the readers. And that's by breaking the rules: writing myself into the Ocs, going into philosophical mode when going through the characters' thoughts, going on the beaten path (just not the one in fandom world. Eew.).
I feel like I'm writing a soap opera.
Three years Prior...
How dare he? Hiei clenched his fist. This rage he knew as a constant companion now had a new sort of flavor to it. It was deeper, like the same hatred he had held toward Tarukane, but this time, he truly felt sick to his stomach. And like all other times, Hiei knew that that gall of fury would simmer down once the offender got what was coming to him.
He doubled over. He clutched the horrible bruise on his abdomen; she might have broken a rib or two. Mukuro's anger wasn't entirely directed towards him, but he felt he would have liked to receive a mortal wound; he felt like shit. He had pushed her too far, mocking her and giving her anything but those needed words of comfort.
But who was he kidding? Like Hiei would do anything remotely close to embracing her and telling her it was okay. He had some dignity, you know. Still, he didn't have the notion of when to leave well enough alone. Even that orangutan of a fool (Hiei's elongated phrase for "Kuwabara") knew when not to push one's buttons. She deserved an apology. But was he about to approach her and beg her forgiveness?
No. Better than that.
He knew how to let her let go. But first, he needed to ask Kurama a favor. He suspected the half-fox would laugh at his lack of knowledge on women. That prediction was not inaccurate. And Hiei was born to an all-female race. How sad was that?
And that led him to where he stood now, presenting to Mukuro the apology, even wrapped with a little bow around the flowerpot. The chance had finally come to place her pain and anger right where it belonged.
She at first looked shocked that Hiei would go to such lengths for her. Then that growing smile became too much for him to face. He stared to his side in a rare display of bashfulness. When he finally gathered his courage to glance back up, he couldn't help the smile spreading onto his own face.
"Happy Birthday," he muttered.
Hiei slowly drifted back to the present. That moron Taro was discovering what rude noises to make with some human beverage and Hebi constantly gnawed at the back of his mind whether she had meant to do this to him, to make him feel too guilty to kill her, or to torture his mind for her own amusement. Kurama would envy her tactics.
He had been more than ready to slit that bitch's throat. But something held him back that was different than his hatred towards her father. He was certain it wasn't pity. It wasn't that repulsion he felt against her father, either. But it was somewhere in between. She gruesomely reminded Hiei of himself. Of the meddling demon he was himself those few years ago.
He slowly made his way back up Mukuro's room. He should tell her he followed her orders and found guest quarters for Hebi, even if she was no longer his lord. Really, he was up for any excuse to argue with her over what to do with Hebi.
He vividly remembered the look on Mukuro's face when Hebi spoke to her. Who was she to let this low-life toy with her mind, anyhow? Hiei recited his future argument. Who is this powerful demoness to let her mind weaken like that? It's embarrassing to me as her former subordinate.
Like every other bit of gossip, the news of Mukuro's sister staying, and somehow, the deal with her father's will, flew through the corridors he passed. They would have a ball, the lot of them, if they knew exactly why Mukuro had let Hebi's grubby hands on the estate.
He instantly remembered. Mukuro's birthday wasn't long after the tournament ended. Hiei prayed Hebi would be gone by then. For his sake as much as Mukuro's.
"Are you happy now?" Her voice was shaking. She swallowed; her throat was sore from restraining her sobs. Mukuro was hardly an emotional woman. But in the end, somethings gotta give. With difficulty, she remained the composed lady she was famed for.
She stood before what was left of her father, an unread demon wrapped in weeds that tortured his soulless body. Hiei had presented him as a gift those years ago. The chance to give that abusive figure of her past whatever punishment she saw fit.
But what did this punishment matter? It didn't change anything. She was still haunted by what he had done so long ago. He was a waste of air. "This is what you wanted, your legacy left to that mutant daughter who could no longer please you?" The fear when Hiei had presented him as a gift had long left his eyes. They were glazed and fogged, as if he were prepared to decay once released from this hell.
Hell wasn't a fiery furnace, nor any torture of the body. It was the eternity of thought and self-loathing that would scorch away at the mind. The eating away of one's conscience, yet would never quite finish. That's the hell where he belonged. Out of her sight. Then, and only then, could she move on, and forget he ever existed.
And she sent him there, and she fell to her hands and knees, crying for the first time in who knows how long? She bit her tongue, trying to keep more tears from escaping. But you can't simply shut the floodgates, not after going through such a repression as 700+ years disguised as a man ruling a vast territory of northern Makai. One must keep their reputation, you know.
But her inability to control an ocean of unavoidable emotions when killing one's own abusive father led her further into self-loathing. She felt entirely void of dignity; she was just grateful no one saw her like this.
"Get up."
Scratch that.
A small but sturdy hand yanked her from the floor before she had the chance to quickly wipe her tears. But this presence sure helped her restrain herself. Amazing things that pride can make you do.
“That's one side of you I haven't seen.” Hiei commented. His words sounded no different, but he spoke softly, carefully this time. “And I happen to be the one person who knows you better than anyone else.”
Mukuro scowled at him through her remaining tears. She felt so angry and humiliated, but had to admit he was right.
“But...” Hiei's strategy shifted somewhat. “Knowing isn't the same as understanding. So I have no right to explain or criticize something I don't understand.” He looked bashful, almost ashamed.
“Fine,” Mukuro nodded, staring at the wall.
“I brought Hebi to her room,” Hiei stated flatly, walking back to the door.
He paused. “I'm not returning to the guard, so unless you're competing in the tournament too, we might not meet again.” Hiei couldn't recognize his own voice, now.
“So...goodbye,” He concluded. “And thanks for everything.” He opened the door in slow-motion.
He felt so empty and miserable crossing the threshold into the corridor. There was no denying it; he cared for Mukuro, much like how he cared for Yukina. Seeing her dead father, Hiei knew that she didn't need him anymore. So, much like he had let his sister be, he was now ready to walk out of Mukuro's life.
“You weren't finished.” Hiei looked up to see Hebi. “You had something else to tell her.”
“Aren't you supposed to be in your room?” He muttered.
“What am I, a child?” Hebi leaned against the wall. “Look, it's not all that often I can actually live a romance novel and have the luxury of having a side-line stereotypical role. And that role is to give the hero a kick in the ass when called for.”
“I'm not in the mood.” Hiei scowled, trudging away.
“Well, what else am I supposed to do for the next month?” Hebi's pig-eyes squinted in a nasty grin.
“None of my business; I wasn't born to entertain some demon a human child could defeat.”
Hebi limped after him a few paces. “So where are you going, now?”
“Nowhere.”
I love Hebi's dry “romance novel” reference. I am SO writing myself into this character. I always get irritated in movies by that “Handsome boy gets distracted in sports event by blond girl” scene. And I always think the blond girl is ugly. Mom accuses me of being unsentimental. Well, sorry if I'm not all goo-ga over Zac Efron (or however the hell you spell his name) and think roses are ugly excuses for flowers.
Why do I even write romance...?
And hold onto your hats, readers. The fourth and final installment of 'The Legacy' is almost finished!
Peace, Tiemiosho.