Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Wings of a Butterfly ❯ Why ( Chapter 7 )

A/N: Many apologies, everybody, for being away for so long. I've been writing, consistently, but I guess that I didn't feel up to sharing my stories. So, here we go, and I hope you enjoy.

 

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Disclaimer: I do NOT (not, not, not) own any characters in the anime series Yu Yu Hakusho. They belong to their creator, Togashi Yoshihiro-sama. I wish (wish, wish, wish) that I OWNED Kurama. ^^;

 

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When Kurama arrived home from an afternoon class, one thing he did not expect was to see Cho in an apron. Sure enough, there she was. She stood in front of the stove, stirring a mixture in a pot, and then returning to a counter where she continued to chop up an assortment of vegetables. Her dark hair was pinned up, and for once her young face was not hidden behind a curtain of dark. She did not look at him as he walked inside, but gave a small nod that he could only interpret as acknowledgement.

 

“I was not aware that you could cook.” he said, placing his books on a clear countertop.

“Not Japanese, no. I can cook an assortment of other things, though.” she replied in a light tone.

“I look forward to it. I haven't really made anything aside from national meals for quite some time.”

“Three years, right?”

Kurama sighed, leaning against a counter, “I'm afraid so, yes.”

 

Cho looked at him, her blue-gray eyes shadowed with question, “Tell me: why do you live such a life of solitude? It is obvious that this is not your realm.”

“I find myself too dependant on other's company. It is not something I take much pride in, I'm afraid. This, in a sense, is a pilgrimage to independence.”

“You're human, it's normal to want company.”

 

The fox apparition gave a secretive smile, as if she had told a very amusing joke. She took no noticed of this smile, or at least that's what it appeared to be. Kurama stood and took an apple out of the wicker basket he had placed not to far from him. He rolled the fruit between his hands, staring at the girl.

 

“I have a question for you, if I may?”

She gave a small nod.

“Why is it that you never call me by my name? As far as I know, we've never struggled for ways to communicate with each other, since it has just been you and I. However, it disturbs me that you know my name, but I don't know yours.”

 

Cho was silent as she lifted up a cutting board of sliced vegetables and poured all the contents into the boiling pot. When she walked back, she pulled out a bowl full of marinated chicken parts.

 

“You never asked.” she finally said.

“What?”

Her eyes met his, “You never asked me. You suggested the exchange once and only once, and pressed no further. I do not give my name unless it is asked of me.”

“Then, may I ask, what is your name?”

Her eyes darkened to a deep gray hue. “The name I once had...is no longer my name. In fact, I really do not have a name. However, you may call me Cho.”

“Cho?” Kurama smiled, “Well then, Cho, if I may ask, would you find yourself free in the upcoming weekend?”

“Why?”

 

For some reason, the small inquiry startled him. “Why? Well, it is an honest question, is it not? I do not see why there should be any need for question.”

Cho turned to him, a sour look on her stark face. “Do not toy with me. You desire my company; I have every right to know why.”

“Could it be possible that I simply wish to spend time with my roommate?”

“No.”

 

“Why, might I ask, is such a thing impossible, if not improbable?”

 

The silent child grew ever quieter. He saw her lips purse before she turned away from him. Her entire being tensed and her clenched fists began to tremble. The girl seized control of her body, but the heavy cloud that now hung over her head was more apparent than even she was aware.

 

She would not answer. That much he knew. He'd seen a strange occurrence in the eyes of this shadow daughter. There was pain, much pain, and an even deeper lineage of agony...and sorrow. Who—he wanted to know—brought forth such misery and despair in this a young heart? Who hurt her, he pleaded to discern.

 

“Cho?” He reached out to her. Gently his hand rested on the small shoulder, but even such a subtle gesture was not enough to calm this frightened child.

 

She whirled around viciously, prepared to attack and sprint. The fierce rage in her eyes called forth a very different reaction. Kurama, rather than jump away, grabbed her by her wrists and jerked her forward. Not expecting such an action, she fell into his arms like a doll of sorts. She froze as she felt the embrace. Like a mere shift in time, the gentle arms which held her and desperately attempted to comfort her became arms of possession, of treasure, and protectiveness. As she stood there, unmoving in the arms of Yoko, she found herself wondering if she preferred his other embrace.

 

“Feeling better, my dear?”

 

Cho slowly removed herself from the very tall demon, and raised her head all the way to look into his piercing gold eyes. “You are Ceres' Chosen, yet you do not try to kill me, why?”

Yoko laughed a loud, proud laugh. It was not an unpleasant sound. “My dear Cho, why would I ever want to harm such a precious thing like you? To me, you are beyond any treasure a thief like me could ever want. It is a blessing that you are here before me.”

 

His large clawed hand was almost the size of her head, but it warm and filled her with a questionable comfort. Troubles seemed to lift themselves off her shoulders and unburden her in that moment. She felt uncommonly calm, enough so that she could simply fall into a peaceful rest. Her eyes closed for but a second, or so she thought, and when she opened her eyes, they were more blue than gray as they were filled with a deep tranquility. She looked up into the thief's eyes.

 

“Who are you?” she asked.

He smiled, “Call me Yoko, young one.”

“Yoko...why are you here, Yoko? Why me?”

He smiled once more, his eyes twinkling as he brushed rogue strands away from her face. He knelt down towards her and kissed her softly on her brow. “Because I love you.”

 

As if he never were, Yoko disappeared and left his human half in the exactly same position he had been. Kurama jerked away as he saw where he was, and began to apologize. He stopped when he noticed the look in Cho's eyes. It was indescribable, but there was a different sorrow in her eyes, less pained somehow and yet more.

 

“Cho?” he called softly.

She snapped out of her trance and looked up at him. To the shock of both, a tear made its way down her cheek, clear and pure. Cho, realizing this, immediately turned away, grabbed the raw chicken, and plopped it all in the pot before rushing to her room.

 

She slammed the door behind her and blindly made her way to the bed. There she collapsed and stayed for the rest of the night. She held a pillow in her arms throughout the night's vigil; eyes wide open with the tear dried on her smooth face.

 

A clear, pure tear. Could she truly be the monster he said she was? All this time? Monsters don't cry, right?