Wildfire

Chapter one: The Coronation

By Funara

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Yu Yu Hakusho cast, sadly. I do however own the badly personified original characters in this story, who will all most likely play minor roles and be used as shallow plot devices.

Notes: This is an AU, in case you didn't notice the summary, and it's shounen-ai, Hiei/Kurama, like all my other stories. Multipart, too. This one will probably contain very, very small snippets of Yuusuke/Keiko and/or Kuwabara/Yukina. And, like the disclaimer said, there will be a host of original characters, but no, they will not hook up with or hit on any of the main characters. Instead, they will probably be horribly cast and serve as instruments through which I can indulge my tar-and-feathering fetish--I mean, advance the story.

Hopefully, you haven't run away screaming by now. For those of you still here, please read and review!

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Wildfires are dangerous things. A moment of carelessness, a spark left to burn. Maybe it wasn't even a foolish error. Maybe the fire was well-tended. But within the next heartbeat, the winds can change it into a towering conflagration. It sweeps through everything, leaving nothing untouched, spurred on by the gales that gave it power.

Life can be like that too.

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Kurama lifted the long curtain covering part of the side of the open carriage and looked outside. The long, newly tilled fields, common after they had left the outskirts of the city, showed signs of green sprouts. At this time of year, the peasants would have planted most of their crops and would be hoping for rain. His stomach clenched at the thought, and he let go of the drape, letting it flutter in the breeze created by the moving carriage.

Six years ago, he would have been one of those villagers, helping his mother plant their garden and hoping for rain. He might have walked the three miles from his village to the bustling capital where he went to school, watching the clouds for signs of rain.

But six years ago, he had met Yomi, the new professor of politics at Kurama's small school. Yomi had been impressed with Kurama's apparent understanding of the political system, though Kurama had not seen why at the time.

"What is the most important emotion a people must feel toward an emperor in order for that emperor to be successful?"

"Fear."

Pause. "Why?"

"Because an emperor is an absolute ruler. If he is feared, no one will question his policies, no matter how brutal."

It had been a simple enough for an answer, but perhaps Yomi had been interested by it, because Gandara's emperor had recently attempted political reform. Fear was what had worked in the past, but the current ideology advocated respect and understanding.

Yomi had given no indication of the growing of this interest until about a year after he had arrived. That year was the first year that the emperor had implemented civil service exams for all prospective government officials. Yomi had taken one and had placed among the top handful of scorers. He had been invited to the royal palace.

"I will reside in the palace for several years. I want you to accompany me, as an apprentice."

He had been shocked. He had never once considered politics as a field into which he wished to enter and had tried to tell his mother and stepfather so. They had not agreed with him, though; they had already been swayed by Yomi's assurances that Kurama would learn a great deal and that he would be taken care of.

"Oh, Kurama, you're already sixteen! You're old enough to take care of yourself, and it's time you left our village to see other places."

Kurama lived in the palace for five years, leaving every once in a while to visit the market or his family. During that time, he rarely saw Yomi, who had been appointed as an imperial advisor, and he doubted if he had ever laid eyes on the emperor himself. The courtiers he often saw did not pay much attention to him, dismissing him as "Yomi's boy".

He observed them, though, and realized how true his own words had been when he had answered "fear" to Yomi's question. The hierarchy of the courtiers was determined not by the quality of their service, but by how much the emperor favored them. And they employed merciless means to get into his good graces, threatening each other with rumors and scandal. Political reform seemed unlikely.

And then, the emperor had died.

Turmoil had erupted within the palace as an heir was sought. A search of the emperor's papers turned up no living children or designated successors. Eventually, someone had proposed that the next emperor be elected by using the same civil service examinations that the deceased emperor had promoted. Anyone within the palace could take the exam, and the highest scorer would become the emperor.

Yomi was that highest scorer, and the courtiers, whether they liked it or not, were forced to accept him as their new ruler. Although Kurama had not been allowed to attend the coronation, he had caught a glimpse of Yomi as he had entered his carriage, clad in the regalia of a king. His expression had been solemn, but triumphant.

That triumph scarcely lasted beyond his coronation. Within days, he fell ill, and though no one dared say it aloud, most believed that he had been poisoned. He showed no signs of recovery, and it was thought that he would die quickly, heirless, like his predecessor.

However, Yomi was better prepared than his peers had thought. Kurama remembered well what Yomi had said to him the last night he had seen him alive.

"You shall succeed me as emperor."

Shock. "How can I? I have no experience!"

Weak smirk. "You have lived here for years, have you not? You have the potential to be a powerful leader; use it. You will learn."

Kurama looked at his hands, folded elegantly in his lap, like a true emperor.

Yomi had gathered the six advisors he had intended to make his cabinet and informed them of his decision. They had looked dubious as they glanced at Kurama, the young man who would be their next emperor, but had dutifully made the necessary arrangements. Yomi passed away and was buried soon after.

The neigh of the horses and the abrupt slowing of the carriage pulled Kurama from his thoughts. A group of villagers had gathered along the roadside, and the driver was forced to slow down so as to avoid hitting any of them.

"Move aside, move aside! This is the imperial carriage! Do not block our way!"

"Is that the emperor? He's so young!"

"He's supposed to be—I think he was student of the one who got elected, then died."

"Where's he going? The holy shrine?"

"Aa. He's going to be crowned there."

Kurama glanced at them as the carriage passed by, their tanned faces full of curiosity. In a few hours, these people would be his subjects. Their well-being was his responsibility. And although he was not unused to such a burden, he dreaded it.

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The temple was located on top of a small hill, a few miles from the surrounding villages and towns. It wasn't particularly big, since it was only used for coronations and annual festivals. The temple's structure was rather unusual in that the entire building was shaped like a heptagon, with the odd side being the main entrance. Each side of the heptagon contained a door, and the sloped roof was supported by seven red pillars, each one placed at the junction of two sides.

Seven carriages had arrived at the temple, one of them containing Kurama and the other six his advisors. Nobody else was allowed to attend the ceremony. Each carriage stopped in front of a door, and the occupant exited. Kurama's carriage had paused in front of the main entrance. He got out, ascended the steps and pushed open the ornately designed wooden door.

The exterior of the building had revealed little about the interior, but once he was inside, Kurama saw that the temple had a very simple design. A short hallway led from each entrance to the middle of the temple. The only source of light was a circular opening in the ceiling right above the center of the temple.

Kurama approached the end of the passageway and saw that his six advisors had already gathered, forming a semicircle. Kurama hesitated briefly before the edge of the group, but advanced when they separated to let him pass. Five of them stood around him—the sixth one, a tall, serious looking man with strong features and silvery hair, stood directly below the opening in the ceiling. Just behind him was a magnificent stone statue of a wolf, his head raised and his fierce eyes fixed on the archway through which Kurama had entered. The god Sosen. Around the statue was a shallow circular pool, about two feet in width.

The silvery haired man turned as Kurama stopped in front of him and gestured towards the pool. "Look," he said simply.

Kurama glanced at his reflection. It was a little different from that morning, when he had donned his ceremonial robes and observed himself in the mirror. The nervousness he had seen, unusual for him, had passed beneath the calm exterior he was accustomed to wearing. All of his features, from his long red hair to his vibrant green eyes to his light, healthy skin had been set off well by the black, gold-embroidered outer robe that he wore. The white silk inner robe had peeked out from the sleeves and the collar.

"That is the reflection of a boy," said the tall man. "Know that that boy will never again exist." Kurama said nothing. "Come, kneel with me." He knelt down before the pool, and Kurama followed. "Do you see the inscription on the statue's base?" Kurama nodded. "Read it."

"Under the guidance of our celestial lord Sosen, I accept the title of emperor of the kingdom of Gandara. I will protect the wellbeing of my people and my land and uphold the sacred covenant through which the people of Gandara have been able to prosper."

The room was silent as Kurama finished reading and fully absorbed what he had read. His silver-haired advisor rose, as did Kurama. They faced each other as the former drew out a golden disc with a hole in the center, attached to a silken cord. Kurama bowed his head as the other placed it over his head.

"This disc bears the names of your predecessors, Your Majesty. Keep it safe." He pointed towards the pool of water, and Kurama looked at his reflection once again. When he turned back, the head advisor had rejoined his companions, and all six of them were kneeling around him. This time, a middle-aged, black bearded man on the opposite end of the semi-circle spoke.

"Your Majesty, we are your six guides. I am Matashima."

The next man, a shorter one with a strange scar snaking across his neck, introduced himself as well. "Anju, Your Highness."

"My name is Homura, "said the next, a broad shouldered man with a braid trailing down his back.

Oshiki was the name of the fourth, a shrewd-looking scholar. The second to last, Kaishou, was a quiet, white haired old man. And finally, the sixth one was the silver haired, strong featured man who had performed the ceremony.

"Tojin, Your Majesty."

"I am honored," Kurama said, the words slipping out easily after the weeks of practice he had undergone. With that statement, he waited for the six of them to rise and preceded them through the main entrance of the temple, to the outside, where the carriages would be waiting to take them back to the capital and Kurama's new jurisdiction.

—to be continued—

Notes: I know, I know, it was awful. But stick around and I promise it gets better. (Yeah, right.) No, really. A very optimistic and probably false schedule for this story is for me to post a chapter every week or so, but it really depends on you readers. Support will generate more chapters. (OK, transparent plea, here.) Basically, feedback is more than welcome—it's über-welcome. So, review, ne?