Do not adjust your computer screens; you read right: Kaito and Kurama. Come on—for all the talk I've heard about this pairing, I've never found a fic that acts on it (and should an Armand ever read this—I'm surprised by you!). So I took it up—Let me know how I did, eh?

'Tis entitled "Graduation" for two reasons—1) Because it takes place at the dress rehearsal for Kaito's and Kurama's graduation, and 2) I actually got the idea for this at my own graduation, just this past May. You see, different honors had the privilege of wearing different colored cords. For example, I scored a 28 on my ACT, so that earned me a white cord. I forget what our valedictorians (yeah, there were two or three, and yeah, what the hell?) wore for their position, but I have heard that popularly that particular cord is gold, so we'll go with that in this fic. There were frequent jokes about using our cords to hang ourselves—one of my friends even took the smorgasbord that he was wearing and fashioned them into a noose. Mordant sense of humor much? But that's how this fic cam into being, so…

Anyway,

Graduation
Or, The Gold Cord
Conceived: May 20, 2007
Completed: October 10, 2007

Bastard, Yuu Kaito thought. Despite frequent absences from school, Shuichi Minamino had managed to finish senior year as valedictorian. And everyone had to admit, it was a close win; Kaito's grades had surpassed his on several occasions, and the rank had teetered between the two for a while. Teachers remarked that the redheaded prodigy had lost weight shortly before finals time, and wondered if an illness of perhaps stress from his mother's remarriage had hindered his studies. But Minamino must have buckled down and given his all in the end, because Meiou's gold cord had gone to him. Naturally, Kaito found the outcome vexatious: Shuichi hadn't even been in class half the time during last semester, and had most likely used his unfair advantage of a millenium's time alive to beat his human rival and save face among their clueless peers.

At first he wasn't sure Shuichi was even going to appear with the gold cord. On the morning of the dress rehearsal for graduation, the human alias of the fox spirit Kurama was nowhere to be found.

Something was happening in the demon world, Kaito knew. Shuichi hadn't divulged all the particulars, but his carriage had grown tenser at school—when he was at school. Kaito could easily see where the faculty might infer that something was afflicting their precious top students. Whatever it was, perhaps it had become so pressing that Kurama had been forced to abandon Shuichi and his affairs in the human world to deal with it.

Or not. Here he was, in the anatomy room. Seeking refuge from his fangirls and other devotees, Kaito thought sardonically. He sure was taking his time, not having even changed yet; his cap and gown were stacked on a dissecting table. The gold cord lay neatly folded over on the edge. Now he began to discard the outer garments of his school uniform in exchange for the robe (the material was the same type used in doll's clothes, Kaito had discovered, and was damnably hot to wear). His movements were a little stiff, explaining why he wasn't already donned up and being the model citizen in front of their instructors and classmates yet.

Kaito eyed the gold cord. It should have been his. Shuichi was tired … He wondered how sharp the incognito demon's instincts were at the moment.

Kurama widened his eyes, and then sucked in a startled breath as something golden rapidly descended before his eyes and tightened round his neck. "Y-Yuu…" he murmured, choking the syllable out over the cord pressing into his throat.

"You don't normally address me by that name, Shuichi," Kaito replied. "Though given your absence lately, I'm surprised you can recall either of them. Your mind looked like it was slipping for a while, but you still managed to knock me down in the run for top of the class. Any advice for explaining that you only lost because the other guy's a thousand-year-old demon?"

Said demon didn't answer. Kaito felt him sway a little, and panicked—he hadn't meant to wrap it so tightly that he'd cut off Shuichi's oxygen! Immediately he loosened the cord and wrapped his arms around the other student, feeling his chest rise and fall. Shuichi's face had begun to change color, but was returning to its normal pallor, save for a flushed pink in the cheeks. His eyes were glazed over.

And then Kaito's eyes widened when his classmate arched against him, and whispered almost feverishly, "The cord … Put it back…" He made to return it to the table surface. "No," Shuichi said, glancing over his shoulder at him. The flush hadn't gone away, nor had the glazed look. "My neck."

Shuichi Minamino … liked asphyxiation.

Kaito was too stunned not to comply. He felt the redhead fidget against him, and realized that he wasn't pulling like earlier. A soft, pleasured sound came from Shuichi when he remedied this. "… Auto-erotic," he managed, though it wasn't so "auto" at the moment. No wonder the fangirls were always left wanting, if Shuichi liked to take care of it himself.

A blanket of red pressed against him as Shuichi began to lose himself in the cord's effect. "Ah … Uh…" he sighed, breath growing harsher. "Kaito…"

He started; Shuichi was writhing against him, and proved to be an erotic stimulus—.

"Ah—Ah," the redhead cried when Kaito pressed back and tightened the cord.

"Do you recall, Shuichi, how in some primates, when a male is subordinated by another, he displays his rear to the victor in subservience?" The redhead moaned raggedly, and made no protest when Kaito leaned him across the anatomy table and pushed up his robe. A tug on his waistband, and a pair of pale buttocks and thighs bared themselves, married only here and there by a shiny battle scar. The gold cord had grown slack, but he still seemed hot, quivering against Kaito's touch.

What would happen, Kaito wondered, if a teacher came looking for the valedictorian and found him being pounded into the anatomy table by the runner-up?

"Kai-aito," Shuichi practically sobbed when he slammed him against the table. Was this his first non-auto time? He clutched the table so hard that his fingernails left indentations in the black plastic surfacing. His skin had grown rosy; it was pleasant to touch.

The floor made an annoying screech as the table slowly skidded forward, but they were pressed so close together that the valedictorian's moans drowned it out. Kaito clenched his teeth as a white-hot pressure mounted in his pelvis… "Ah—Shuichi," he groaned, arching into his climax. Not forgetting his peer's newfound idiosyncrasy, he wrapped his hands around Shuichi's neck and squeezed.

"Ah, ah, ah—K-Kai—!" He tried not to grimace at the string of guttural choking sounds that followed, and kept his grip when Shuichi's body grew limp.

He left his rival sprawled across the anatomy table and washed up at the sink. "We've probably delayed rehearsal," he said over his shoulder. "I can't imagine them starting without you of all people." He tossed several damp papers towels in the redhead's direction.

"… Thank you," Shuichi said hoarsely, rising up slowly and cleaning himself off.

"They're going to have a field day with that voice of yours."

"It'll be better by the time of the ceremony." He readjusted his rove, sponged his face with one of the towels.

Narrowing his eyes a little, Kaito inquired, "What is happening in the demon world?"

Kurama massaged his neck while staring at his asphyxiator, before answering: "There is going to be a power struggle over the main territories. One of the current province-holders was my second-in-command when we were younger; now I am his."

His explanation begot a raised eyebrow from the runner-up. Shuichi Minamino, second in something?

The classroom door opened, and a relieved-looking teacher stepped inside. "You had us worried," he said. "First you disappear, Minamino, and then Kaito too."

"I hope we haven't disturbed the schedule too much," Kaito said dispassionately, pushing his glasses up. In all the excitement, it was a wonder they hadn't fallen off.

"Everything should go smoothly still," the teacher assured. And then he noticed the valedictorian's appearance, and his expression grew concerned. "Is everything okay, Minamino? You seem off today."

Kurama glanced Kaito's way before adjusting the graduation cap over his mussed hair and arranging the gold cord over his shoulders. He gave the teacher a sheepish smile, and said with a shrug: "Nerves."

Kurama gripped the sides of the sink, trying not to make too awful a face despite the less than pleasant taste in his mouth. He gargled to the brink of puking, and then spat the tea tree concoction into the sink. True to his earlier assertions, his throat, and voice, would be fine at the ceremony.

Dodging classmates who would have no doubt detained him with innocent conversation longer than he'd like, he had made it to Meiou's gates when something fell from overhead and landed at his feet. A packet of honey, like what restaurants carried. "How much did you see?" he asked cautiously, looking up into the tree at his companion.

"I could see the bruising on your neck when you were on the risers," Hiei replied, smirking. "Though I doubt anyone else did. Human eyes are so weak."

"Fortunately," Kurama agreed, picking up his friend's little gag gift. To his knowledge, Hiei was the only one of his teammates who knew about his little quirk, a consequence of the Koorime sneaking up on him once during the Dark Tournament. After the initial misunderstanding, in which Hiei had cut him down and he'd had to rapidly explain to the furious Jaganshi that he was not trying to commit suicide (an explanation that resulted in the reddening of both their faces), his friend had come to regard his fetish with amusement, and occasionally joked that he'd have to lend Kurama his scarf one of these days. Kurama certainly wouldn't refuse such a loan—or better yet, Hiei's own hands.

"Your movements have grown more limber."

"Er—." Kurama looked down to read the honey packet, and hide the blush that Hiei's appraisal had conjured. "Thank you?"

His comrade shrugged. "You just seemed—taut—lately. Tense."

Kurama unconsciously rubbed his neck, and smiled almost coyly. "Well, I've managed to relax some…" He shrugged a little. "Thank you for the honey."

"Tch." Hiei's boots made a loud thunk as he landed beside the Fox. "Someone has to consider your throat, if you're so intent on abusing it, masochist. It is a dangerous practice; you should at least tolerate some supervision…"

His admonition received a knowing grin. "Are you volunteering?" Hiei glared at him. "Would you like to grab lunch together?"

Hiei shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't care. Will you be able to sit comfortably?"

"Uh—Pardon?"

"You kept squirming in your seat in there. Have you injured your tailbone or something?"

The redhead stared at him blankly, sweat collecting on his temples. "I … Um…"

Yuu Kaito, not intimidated by the spectacle of Shuichi Minamino conversing with what might have been the punk movement's shortest follower, had been close enough nearby to overhear their discussion in full. He turned and walked away, smirking.