Disclaimer: It should be obvious I didn't create Yu Yu Hakusho; these things are stupid.

Chapter I: A Rolling Dream...


Thunder permeated through the magnificent skies above me. The subtle whisk of rain soothed my shallow breaths. Cold surged through my cheeks from the stone floor; it was a comforting distraction from the loss of feeling in my body. In distinction the sneering pain in my chest onwards, there was a rapid decline in my body's ability to process the information around it. Nerves were either dying or delving into a requiem of limpid nix. Seven replications, all equally fearsome, shot down with a singular attack. And this, this was the end result; death. Yet for hours on end, I lied dazed and motionless in solitude.

I do not know if it was my will to survive or naturally superior physiology, but I refused to acknowledge my undoing as being so trivial. Such a lowly attack damaged my antennae, leaving only my overconfidence to blame. So blinded by my own upper hand that I hadn't noticed its effects on the battle until the boy had already laid siege. I who possessed the mastery of the highest levels of sorcery was slain by a human; a human. What compelled my opponent to so drastically increase his power? The girl—love for that girl. Despite his depleted energy, he was able to conjure just enough to win the battle—all thanks to that girl, and that in itself may have been his very downfall. No human, no demon could draw on their absolute essence for a final blow and expect to live, but my vision was too obstructed to peer around for a body and verify the inevitable.

The entirety of the fight played back in my mind. Once then twice, anger rushed over the recollections. With strength and intelligence tenfold that of such a meager opponent, someone of my caliber should have been able to see the faults chain reacting in the methodology I had so chosen to encumber myself in. Somewhere during the events replaying in my mind I noticed an anomaly. My antenna had cracked, much due to my own carelessness, but remained so even after the restoration process. Pure fodder; something was amidst, but my condition prevented a capable inspection.

Still—no matter how many times the incident repeated—despite my frustration one thing always remained consistent; Yusuke's valor. His ability to adapt was splendid, and for that I commemorated him. Aptitude of a human bond was something of a marvel, as I bared witness firsthand. Were demons capable of such feats? Or were we all destined to our own concurrent and habitual practices? Even I, so supreme in stature and imperious in arts of sorcery, could not overcome that delegate of human nature.

The remaining life energy inside of me had dwindled, death was brooding overhead. Out of the seven of us... the seven of us. If one or two of them still had any life energy left, I would be able to replenish myself and rise once more! How could I have overlooked something so blunt? It seemed a reoccurring trend. Concentration. That's all that was required, just a little concentration to feel for any remainder of energy in the vicinity. Barely so, but enough to perhaps live another day and maybe gain feeling in my arms. A sudden jolt and there, pressure popped underneath my skin.

With a moments hesitation, my elbows bent as my palms pressed to the floor; lifting my body with a quiver. Mucus built in my throat, forcing a spell of coughs that produced a burning sensation near my trachea. Blood trickled in veins to the ground, bleeding to my fingertips. Somehow I managed to fall rest at my calves, peering around the room with swaying vision. He vanished; he was alive. Damned impossible, ha-ha.

The blast destroyed nearly the entirety of the keep. Labyrinthine Castle had lost its throne, no doubt leading to an eventual criminal escapade for kingship. Too bad, the Insect Flute must have been vaporized in the explosion—alongside my opportunity to breach the barrier. Only Murugu could slip... Murugu. Had the blast annihilated her as well? Was I left with a meager nix? No, my life was testament enough to disprove such a statement.

No longer would I reside in Labyrinthine Castle, nor would sulking substitute my will. He who is without the volition to primitively dwell in denial, is the one that holds no pressure driven by the anger that produces haste. Still, even considering my weakened state, the barrier would not permit my absence from the the Labyrinthine prison. Without Murugu or Genbu it would be impossible to communicate outside the castle walls. Yet, there I was, a demon whose power and reputation proceeded himself, trapped in an archaic maze dying of solitude.

Despite my vanity being the cause behind what would be considered a decisive loss, it triggered something beautiful. The power in my possession was not just limited to sheer strength, but also many black arts. Hundreds of years spent mastering the most difficult of techniques, including that of necromancy. If only there was a trace of Murugu around, then... then my plans would fall into motion.

Knees trembling, I managed to stand with the aid of the wall. Such ruins were no place for someone of my regard—recovery was too dragging. Grudgingly I trekked forward, each groove of the fractured wall passing my hand by and feeling as though they were accomplished milestones.

Only one feather, that would suffice. But, nothing. Nothing at all. Scattered debris on fire was the only distinguishable marker. It was a perfect manifestation of how my body felt. Burning grew in my thighs the longer I stood, as breathing sharpened with each deeper breath.

I had to rest—there would be some time before the news would circulate, not to mention the secondary news of my survival—however weakened—would ultimately coincide. Was I making sense? How would any demon know of my plans. In all likeliness it would be intelligence of my fatigue, thereupon spawning hundreds of challengers. Even so, what I needed was... rest. So much that my body collapsed from under me. As my vision blurred, a stretch of green shone to me from the fires, roasting, but not burning. That lone image became clouded with darkness, until my mind echoed away.


Wind swirled around me, grazing my arms and cheek—producing gelid dances that carried over them. Eyes opening, I could feel the aches in my body subsiding. There was an unusual ambiance surrounding the airs, threatening the lesser demonic forces around the labyrinthine perimeter. Standing, with a stretch, my senses directed me to an adequate force of power heading my way, traversing through the castle.

It was beginning—the word of three, or perhaps even four of the Holy Saint Beasts' deaths. What a hellish surprise my dominion would come to their inept minds. That is to say, if my person would remain either solitary or stationary for any impending arrivals. There had to have been a trace of Murugu, even if she had been vaporized, a stray feather or hair follicle would not have escaped the vicinity of the room explicitly. With her ability to seep undetected into the humans' world, it would not be difficult to find a breach that would allow my entrance. There was a chance, however minute, that the philistines in Spirit World still had an opening in the barrier—especially if Yusuke and his camaraderie had not indeed fully vacated the premise.

Still, making sense of the debris was far more tedious than I had anticipated. A dream insinuated that reaching into a fire would have provided me the necessary materials for my obstacle's obstruction. If only. No fire continued to sprawl forth. Either it held no value, and was a simple euphoric wondering of my mind, or... or it held no significance to the fire itself, but the location! Scrambling through the fractured bricks and tiles adjacent to where I had slipped into unconsciousness, my thoughts could only dwell on the hope that the premonition ensnared.

Incredible! Half of a feather, albeit singed lineation. Even then, the likelihood of a premonition existing within something as haphazard as a dream was farfetched. Something or someone had directed that vision to me. A mystery for another time, as the necromantic process held far greater importance.

Channeling my demonic energy, the feather began to glow hues of scarlet and violet. With my hands interlaced centerfold, thumbs crossed and out—index fingers pointed away—and feather vertical in grasp; the air wavered, heat sweltering as demon energy splurged in spirals. Soon it was completely engulfed, the demonic energy changing its very shape. What was once a sliced feather had transmogrified itself into a blob of rotating light. While I expected the blob's silhouette to take the form of a bird, it began to expand in a most peculiar of ways, limbs sprouting from what appeared an ample thorax.

Flashes of magenta and yellow raved from a standing humanoid figurine, maybe one tenth of a meter shorter compared to my own height. A second or two later and the strobes died down to a scanty glisten. Features of a face developed as clarity increased. Stepping toward me, the gloss attenuated away as though it were an afterimage. Elongated Tyrian purple hair hung to its shoulders, falling back double in length. The skin tone was pale, but not too pale; exactly as my own. Then there were it- her eyes, a simmering green that appeared nearly out of place. Clothing was the last attribute to distinguish itself, a white dress, cutting off just atop her knees with a golden pattern circling the ends. The dress met an amber rope that tied itself in a bow at the side, leading up to parting from the bustline up the shoulders.

"Lord Suzaku," she pledged, voice sweet as honey, kneeling down on one knee with her head bowed and arm across her chest.

"Murugu?" I questioned, my eyes widened and jaw beginning to fall slenderly.

"Am I another?" She tilted her head up to view me.

"That's quite a profuse question to ask, is it not?" I cautiously stepped to her.

"Does this form bother you?" Her voice was unusually calm, devoid of any cheer or pride.

"No, but it is unusual," I stopped in front of her, nodding for her to stand.

"Did I die?" she asked in a whisper, rubbing her thumb to her index finger.

"That's the assumption, considering your only remain consisted of a mere tarnished feather." My voice wavered not, standing still as not to bid weakness a melody.

"The human boy? He must have destroyed the whistle too. I'm sorry..." she shifted her gaze to the concurrently open spaces where walls should have been.

"Unfortunately, yes. Needn't you apologize my dear Murugu, as there still may be time to breach the border." I turned away as she blushed, looking out at the distant mountains.

"And I am to find this breach before it's sealed?"

"Are you capable in this form? Any spy I held under my allegiance has likely committed treason at this point. You're the only one I can trust." My face swayed back to her.

For a moment she stared at the ground, cheeks reddened and skin around flushed. "Possibly."

"Good. I trust scouting for its whereabouts wouldn't be too dangerous?" I pondered aloud to her.

"Contrary to your belief, this body is not as brittle as it appears; I always had the ability to transform, but seldom preferred to." She took in a breath, sighing and thereafter grabbing my forearms. "Suzaku..."

Feeling the heat in my chest charge upwards, I froze. Chills traveled down my backside, making for a rather uncomfortable temperature amalgam. Did the humans hold words for such a formidable grouping of feelings? Murugu would not clutch my person if not for a reason of dire pertinence. Perhaps it was worry for her immediacy, hope that she bared no consequences. Worry. I could not recall ever worrying for another before. "Murugu...?"

Sparkles formed in the crests of her bottom eyelids, an oddity I held little familiarity to. Silence created a tension that forced the development of a sweat drop on my temple. Never before outside of battle had such a physical alteration overtaken me. Breathing became difficult as I anticipated her next move. Sensations heightened, such as the warmth radiating from her hands to my arms. There was no remembrance of any singular entity sharing with me their warmth.

Then it happened. She pressed her lips to mine, applying a pressure that produced a form of pleasure. Instinctively I returned the favor. So gentle and soft, her lips may as well have been tender clouds. I hadn't experienced anything quite as mesmerizing; it left me lost in reverie, wondering about the significance of the exchange. Affection was something new, perhaps even innovative to my character. What reason did Murugu have to bestow unto me such a display of fondness?

As she pulled away emptiness rattled my bones. Humans held bonds with one another, with similar artifacts of affection. Was that part of Yusuke's motivation to tap into his life energy? Presumably, she noticed my distraction, letting go of my arms; and staring out in the direction of the breeze. Pressing my thumb to her cheek, I asked her, "Do you look away because you believe I resent you for your actions?"

"Do you?" she turned to me, eyebrows arching toward one another.

"No, I cannot say that I do; although I also cannot understand your feelings. Tell me, Murugu, what do they mean?" I inquired, my body temperature still pulsating.

"Is it not obvious?" She pursed her lips for a moment as she took a blink for several seconds.

"I believe it's safe to assume affection is not something I am necessarily qualified to give insight on." I attempted to smile, but unsure as to why.

"Love Suzaku, love," she said, gulping upon the last syllable leaving her mouth.

"Love?" I asked myself. She loved me... So many questions darted through my mind, such as the time period concerning such feelings, but more importantly, why?

"I don't know how else to put it." She placed her hands behind her back, bowing her head.

Power alone had been my conquest, coinciding the pleasures and luxuries it entailed. Selfish was the only synonym that came to mind. My narrow defeat by such a weaker foe could not sheerly be attributed to overconfidence and underestimation, no, he had more to live for than I did; it compelled him to push further and save the day. This conclusion was no surprise, nor the first time it had been recollected. An opportunity was presenting itself, a way to have more to strive for—to live for.

Letting out a deep breath, I wrapped my arms around her, whereby she laid her head in the crook of my neck and returned the gesture. Before long tiny bits of water ran from her eyes to my neckline. There would be but two rational explanations to her tears; happiness or sadness. Considering I answered her call from a mutual line, the former was more than likely the case. Regardless, I stroked her back to ensure comfort.