Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Waiting To Live Again ❯ PART 7 ( Chapter 7 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A/N: It's best to listen to "Have A Little Faith In Me" by Joe Cocker when reading this. Funny name, I know, but everyone should know what song I mean. Seriously. In fact, I don't want you to read this Part until you have somehow acquired this song. Go download it off Kazaa or somethin' like that. Go on, hurry! And after this, be sure to read the author's note. THANKS!

PART 7: WAITING TO LIVE AGAIN

Well, things change as fast as the seasons. People leave, coming and going like the wind, as fickle as the rain, yet they return at some point. Hiei returned to me, all of him; his depressed, fragile self is back in my arms. Just as it should be, and we're working on it. All the little things that bother him are slowly getting fixed. I often tell him we are bandaging his wings, and he smiles begrudgingly at me, with the faint whisper of "baka kitsune".

Things are what they are, I suppose, however screwed up they may get. I realised a lot of things in the short time Hiei was gone (though it felt more like an eternity) about myself, and my relationships with the people I love. Hiei is my light, and he is my life's blood. I think that without him, I might stop breathing. He is everything. It is as simple as that. My mother... I always felt like I owed her more than I could ever give, and now I know that she loves me unconditionally. She loves me for me. Some say that everything happens for a reason, and I guess, in my case, that was everything. Then there are some things that are just senseless, and shouldn't happen at all, but those situations, too, have made me stronger.

I look out the window and see the rain pouring down from the sky like a waterfall. In the glass, I can see a reflection of myself, and just behind me is the form of a small sleeping fire youkai. I smile, and lean over him, brushing my lips over his.

"Mmmm... Kurama..." His quiet whimpers make me smile, and I lay down next to him under the down comforter, wrap my arms around his muscular body. I love the way his bare skin feels against mine. Like silk rubbing against silk; it's a wonderful feeling, more so than any I've ever known...



A small yet stoic figure blocks the light of the setting sun from my window. Cast in an orange and purple glow, he seems almost a dream. A gust of wind, and the window breathes, inhaling him into the room to land gracefully on the rug in front of me. Crimson eyes sparkle with unforeseen depth. I never knew him to look so beautiful before. It's simply a wonder I haven't either jumped him or confessed my undying love to him yet. I foolishly wait, in hopes he might do one or the other.


I pull him closer, and put my arm around him, kissing his soft hair lightly. I can smell him, and his scent is spicy, like freshly ground cinnamon. We are comfortable here, together. I sigh contentedly when he squeezes my hand.


We are touching each other, softly caressing the most intimate places. He touches me like I am made of glass, like I'm a precious treasure that should never be broken, and in this moment, when he is inside me, I feel loved. Completely and absolutely. Unconditionally loved.


'What will I do without you?' It is a question that goes unanswered, echoing into the stagnant night air and rebounding off of empty streets for no one to hear.


Once I get out of the school, I break; fracture into a thousand, million pieces of myself. And I run. I run and I run and I just keep running. Time has stopped, but it's going by so fast, like sand through the hourglass falling, falling, only to stop mid-air, go back up and fall again, replaying the same moment inside of me as the grey concrete below me turns into the red carpeting of my room.


Relieved crying permeates the silence and leaves the faint scent of salt and fear. And I hold my mother close as she cries like a child. The mechanical beeps and whirs that surround us keep rythm with my memories. I am almost choking on those memories, like something utterly disgusting is being shoved down my throat against my will. I can see it like it's happening right now, and the greying wood of the old 2x4 comes down in a swinging arc, and my world is pure black.



I like autumn. Despite what one may think about it, it being the season in which most things die, it is extraordinarily beautiful. The colors are warm, and the air crisp. The gold of the trees makes it seem magical, and though I know what true magic is, it is to me. I have always loved plants, whether they be used for medicinal purposes, or are just pretty to look at, they sooth me. Nature is my home. It may be quite puzzling as to how something that is dying can increase in beauty. I am not one to solve such a delicate mystery; just let it be, and get lost in the mad beauty.

Maybe it is because of the knowledge that all things return, eventually. The dead make way for the living, nurturing the earth so that it may grow and flourish. Autumn, and winter, in this sense, are only periods of hibernation. In this way, nothing ever really dies, it is simply waiting to live again.