Standard disclaimers: YYH and its characters are not mine.
Title: Frailties of the Flesh Author: Take Date: 12/31/05 Pairing: Kurama/Hiei Rating: T Summary: There were times that Kurama hated being human.
There were times that Kurama hated his body.
Oh, not often, but on occasion the limits of the human form he currently inhabited frustrated him. Thre were times when he found himself thinking wistfully of the other body he'd once had, remembering how it had felt to have a greater amount of youki at hand.
These moments rarely lasted longer than a few days; he merely had to hear his mother's soft, gentle tones to reminded of what he had gained as a human.
Still.
The moments of resentment usually came upon him unawares, especially in the aftermath of a particularly trying fight with a youkai. Luckily, those moments were few and far between, what with the word being spread that the Reikai had a new team of Tantei. No, it was the other times, when he was being "just" Shuuichi, high school genius, that drove home the fact that his body no longer responded like it had as a youko. The point was driven home every time he was forced to stop studying for an exam or writing a paper because his body was too exhausted to stay awake any longer. Or when he – on rare occasions – got sick. Especially when he got sick.
In all his centuries of life as a youko, Kurama could count on one hand the times he'd gotten sick. And he'd have fingers left over. As a human. . . well. Let's just say that he'd been sick more times in his sixteen years as Shuuichi than he'd been as youko Kurama.
It stunk.
Sometimes, when in the midst of one of these bouts of self-hatred, he'd stand in front of his mirror and glare at his reflection in disgust. He'd catalogue the various features and imperfections, starting with the faded lines of old scars – if he'd been in youko form they'd have disappeared already, he'd think resentfully – to the wide green eyes that stared out from his face. His human face. It had taken him a long time to adjust to this body. When he was younger, he'd often viewed it as merely a piece of meat, a tool for him to use to his own ends. As such, he'd often pushed himself to his limits, sometimes to the point of collapsing from fatigue into his mother's worried arms.
He'd learned his lesson, and his limits, since then.
Kurama sighed as a bandaged arm slid across his bare skin.
"Kurama," Hiei said quietly, "come back to bed."
Kurama pressed back against the warm flesh behind him, turning his head to press a brief kiss to Hiei's shoulder. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of sleep-warmed flesh and their earlier lovemaking. "Mm," he agreed, and allowed his lover to lead him back to their bed.
Yes, there were times when Kurama hated his human form.
Still . . . there were some benefits to being in a sixteen-year-old body.
Kurama supposed it just might even out in the end.
Owari