Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ The Tale of a Theif ❯ Chapter Six ( Chapter 6 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Dark clouds bearing the promise of heavy rain covered the early morning sky blocking the sun completely from view. The whole valley was cast in shadows and the animals stayed within their homes knowing the clouds would open their rainy gates. Sure enough, by mid-morning the rain came down in heavy buckets. The traders opened shop within their tents, but customers were in short supply during this heavy rain. Unfortunately those who were caught out in it resembled drowned rats in appearance and mood.
Kurama was one of the unfortunate souls to be out in the downpour. His hair and tail was caked with mud and leaves; the color of his pants was no longer distinguishable. The dirt that had been layer on his skin turned to mud in the rain and dripped down his chest and arms.
He lay in wait behind a stack of empty barrels hoping that some youkai would pass by with a gold pouch attached to their hip. Unfortunately he had no such luck. Only a few passed by, but he either could not see the pouch or they were accompanied by a friend. He had played with the idea of stealing the food directly, but since the traders and merchants were inside their tents or stores that would only make it far more difficult. He’d rather not chance it. His stomach grumbled loudly as came around, he had not eaten since he had tried to steal from that bat youkai. That had been a few days ago so he was beginning to strongly consider stealing some bread instead of waste time trying to steal the gold to purchase it.
Kurama moved from his hiding place and made his way to the bakery and went inside. The smell of fresh baked bread rushed to meet him as he stepped through the door. The baker shifted his eyes to Kurama momentarily before returning his attention to his previous customer. He didn’t look when the door opened again as someone else sought shelter from the biting rain.
‘His attention is to that man, it’s now or never,’ he thought to himself as he eyed the loaf of bread he intended on stealing. He reached out his hand to snatch his would-be meal, his heart pounding for fear of being caught. Just as he was about to take it and bolt, the bakers deep voice stopped him.
“What are you doing boy?” the baker questioned. He recognized the look of hunger and desperation on Kurama’s face; he didn’t take kindly to thieves. Kurama froze resembling a deer caught in headlights as his heart pounded faster. His ears flattened to his skull as he thought of what to do. He wanted the bread, but he was caught. At the moment he wanted the food more than he cared about the punishment. So he grabbed the loaf and darted off through the door; the baker followed suit cursing the entire time.
Kurama leapt over the stack of barrels and kicked them in the baker’s direction, hoping to slow him down. To his luck it worked. He ran off into the forest and didn’t stop until he was certain he was no longer being chased. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. He wouldn’t be able to steal from that bakery again.
He jumped into a tree and ate the bread, saving any wouldn’t work. The rain would drench whatever was left because he had no dry place to keep it. As he finished off the last of the bread he looked out at the town. He would have to stay away for a little while, no doubt the baker told everyone about the thief that stole from him. Even though he made bread by the dozen each day and could easily replace the one, he would cause a ruckus just over one loaf of bread.
Kurama sighed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. He was supposed to only be here a short while to gather supplies so he could travel to a town further away from Korowai’s castle. The further he got, the better off he’d be.
Unfortunately that’s not how everything was playing out. He was striving just to get food once a day! Getting supplies for a two week travel would undoubtedly be ten times harder. He also needed new clothing, or, at least, a new pair of pants.
Kurama closed his eyes and listened to the rain, he almost fell out of the tree when a gust of wind caught him by surprise.
‘Doesn’t this day just keep getting better and better?’ he scowled. Deciding the ground was probably safer than the air, he jumped down clumsily from the branch. ‘I need to escape this weather!’ The wind bit at his wet form harshly. He stumbled as his head spun unexpectedly. That had happened twice before earlier, but he recovered quickly each time. He shook it off and began to search for some sort of shelter where he could wait out the rain. He already knew there were no caves nearby, having already checked the day before. This forced him to travel to town once more, this time more cautiously. He almost cried out for joy when he saw a covered wagon off to the side, seemingly abandoned. He looked around for anyone then inside the wagon. Nothing, it was completely bare. He climbed inside and curled up, happy to escape the harsh weather. The wagon rocked a bit due to the wind, but nothing more.
Kurama listened to the wind and rain, it was almost melodic. His eyes became heavy and his ears drooped. Finally, after fighting against it, he let sleep claim him.

T.T.O.A.T.

He expected to awaken to yelling, or, perhaps, to a cold dark dungeon. However, it was neither of these he awoke to. Instead of being frozen to the tail he was very warm and comfortable, bordering on almost too hot. His muscles protested each time he attempted to even lift a finger. He groaned tiredly and opened his eyes before promptly shutting them.
‘I'm no longer in the wagon,’ he managed to process. He attempted to open his eyes a second time, this time succeeding. Yes, he was no longer in the cold, noisy wagon. Instead he was in a warm bed with the covers pulled up to his neck, a fire roared nearby.
“So you awaken yes?” Kurama shifted his eyes over to the old woman who shuffled into the room with a small bowl full of water. She removed the cloth already placed over his forehead and dipped it into the water and rung it out before re-placing it on his head. “You have slept for a good two days young man,” she said.
“Two days?” he croaked out. His voice was dry and very hoarse, it almost didn’t sound like his own. He looked over the old woman; her grey wings were folded against her back. Her white hair was bound in a thick braid that fell over her shoulder and her violet eyes regarded him with kindness.
“Found you in my old wagon I did. Cold, wet, and ill you were. Stay down,” she urged when he attempted to sit up. “I will get you some medicine, make you feel better. Stay down,” she repeated before leaving the room. Kurama did as told and stayed down, he sensed neither hostility nor ill intentions from the old woman. She returned with a cup full of god only knows what. He helped him sit up, which had been harder than the kitsune would have cared to admit, and made sure he drank the entire cups contents. The liquid had been very bitter and had gone down very thickly. “Good, it will do you good.” She smiled as she placed the cup on the side table and felt his right cheek. “Still such a fever,” she tutted. “What were you doing in the rain young man? Looking like you went through hell and back.”
“There was no room at the inn,” he replied. The old woman eyed him suspiciously.
“You are a traveler?”
“Yes.” She looked at him many moments more, but prodded no further.
“Bartumus always has room, whether or not he says so. Next time you must badger him into giving you a room, lest you end up in rain like this again.”
“Yes ma’am,” Kurama said.
“Good. Now, I'm going to make you some broth and see if you can keep that down.” She patted his arm that lay beneath the covers and left the room once more taking the empty cup with her.
As she started the broth, Kurama lay with his eyes closed. Her scent was thick in her dwelling; she must spend quite a bit of time indoors. Not unexpected seeing as she was an elder bat. However, her scent wasn’t the only one he could find. A much younger bat he guessed, though the scent wasn’t nearly as strong. The young bat probably came only once or twice a week if that. The scent almost seemed slightly familiar, but his mind was currently too fogged up to place it.
His right ear twitched, he could hear the old woman singing an old lullaby. As he listened something within him stirred. His mother used to sing that same lullaby to him when he was a young kit. He could imagine her in a rocking chair next to his bed, singing the lullaby to lull him off to sleep. She used to do it every night before…
His thoughts were interrupted as the old woman entered the room with a small bowl of broth in her hands. She placed the bowl on the small side table and helped him sit up and adjusted the pillows so he could lean against them. Though he knew he should be starving, the smell of the broth caused his stomach to churn. It figured. He was being offered food and he didn’t think he could stomach it.
With a bit of urging from the old bat, he managed to get a few spoonfuls down. When he turned a faint green she knew to put the wooden trash bin next to the bed and hold back his hair. Once he was finished emptying his stomach she urged him to lie down again.
“Here, drink some water. It’ll keep you from getting dehydrated,” she said. He only took a few sips of the cool water. “Now sleep, you need rest.” She passed her hand over his head and his eyes became very heavy. He wasn’t certain if she did something or if he was simply tired, but he slipped off to sleep nonetheless.