Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.
What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.
The events in Idiot Beloved take place shortly after the Dark Tournament; Firebird Sweet directly follows that timeline. This story is set many, many years after that.
Title: Night Vision
Author: JaganshiKenshin
Genre: General
Rating: K
Summary: A foggy, lonely night, and someone is stalking Hiei.
A/N: Set many years after the Dark Tournament, this story's one of Hiei's shortest, and as close as Hiei will ever come to experiencing 'angst.'
Thanks for reading this, and Hiei appreciates your reviews!
"It's rude to hide your aura."
Night Vision
by
Kenshin
Night falls early in November.
The chill Tokyo air smelt of death, soaking into Hiei's bones. It was a place in which to hide, to forget every blessing ever bestowed, bleak as an endless desert.
Compact and muscled, with bristling black hair, and not exactly human, Hiei trudged a lesser downtown avenue.
A few stores were still open, throwing swaths of light onto the pavement, but no one was buying.
Luminous fog hung in curtains that kept passersby hidden, and though no one was in sight now, Hiei knew was being hunted. And I'm too tired for a fight, too down.
Yet when footsteps echoed behind him, he ducked down a cross street, sliding from self-pity to Yellow Alert in an eyeblink.
Once, Hiei had hated the human world, and anyone in it. But decades ago at the Dark Tournament, he sided with Urameshi and the others, remaining after the tournament ended, to fight in the Shadow Wars. Because of that decision, he had a target painted on his back.
Many youkai had been broken, throwing themselves at him; some had broken him a little in turn.
Each step brought stabbing pains to both knees, his right ankle, left shoulder, the effects of years of battle injuries. The weather ensured Hiei felt each old scar, including the back that had been broken in three places. He had a fleeting thought to return home, to escape both the damp night air that ravened his battered joints and his follower.
What for? No one was there, nor did he wish to lead an enemy to his house. And he experienced a certain satisfaction in simply feeling the pain, letting it run through him, tugging on his nerves at will, yet not yielding to it.
The footsteps turned when he turned. A human stalker would give off a human aura, and here was no detectable aura. Cutting through an alley that smelled of old cooking grease, Hiei made for one of his old haunts.
Then came an image he had not thought of in years: an infant, flung over the edge of a floating world to die. Thirty-five years ago, he was cast down from the realm of the Kourime, a realm that did not suffer males to live: not wanted.
Hiei reminded himself sternly that he was no longer an infant. This reassurance did not keep his heartbeat from accelerating, his breath coming in ragged steaming puffs as he shot out of the alley, headed north. The footsteps followed.
If a fight was inevitable, he would choose his own ground.
He glanced over his shoulder, the fog making it impossible to make out the features of his pursuer, only a general impression of bulk. Whatever race, that one was tricky, using the fog to hide, now matching his steps to Hiei's own, slowing when Hiei slowed, running when Hiei ran.
With a burst of speed, Hiei cut across a paved roadway to the park. His pursuer followed.
Am I wishing for death? Have things gone that far? Can it sense this?
Hiei entered the park: a long green stretch of empty benches accompanied by flickering lights on silver poles. In terms of fog and damp, it was worse, with steaming billows among the trees. He pondered his weaponry.
Fists first, then sword, then fire, then Dragon. Last, Tenchi no Hi, Flame of Heaven and Earth, reserved for the deadliest foes.
And any foe who can mask his aura to that extent might require Tenchi no Hi.
Hiei slid past a bench through dense undergrowth, leaving wet patches on his black jeans. He headed for an spot where he had battled youkai dozens of times in the past: a small arena formed by a circle of trees, a lamp or two providing ample light, good fighting ground, level, hidden from casual view.
Climbing a tree was excellent strategy, affording Hiei a decent view of the land below. He could stake out his stalker, and launch an attack before the enemy could.
Pushing through dense, pungent branches, Hiei clambered up into the middle of a tall evergreen. Waited, straining his ears for the slightest sound.
Then: Footsteps! I have him!
A figure emerged from the undergrowth, drew closer to the tree, a large, menacing outline against the backlit fog.
Not for nothing did Hiei's name mean Flying Shadow. With a slight shift in his center of gravity, Hiei prepared an attack, sifting through the options available for fighting someone of superior size and weight when you are two steps too slow and a couple of missiles short of an arsenal.
Bunching his muscles, Hiei crouched for takeoff-
The pursuer stepped into illumination cast by a lamp: "Hey, Shrimpboat!" called a familiar voice. "Whatcha doin' up there?"
Hiei gaped at the slablike face of Kuwabara Kazuma.
He wore a leather bomber jacket the color of dried blood, his orange hair cropped short, long beady eyes studying Hiei.
"It's rude to hide your aura," Hiei said at last.
Kuwabara loosed his high, blaring hoot of a laugh. The sound made Hiei want to strangle him.
"Gimme some credit," Kuwabara said. "You think you're the only one in the universe who can teach himself to do things?" He turned and strolled off.
With a mix of relief and irritation, Hiei jumped from the tree, landing somewhat less gracefully than he would have liked.
Hiei had known Kuwabara since before the Dark Tournament. They had enjoyed an instant mutual dislike back then; Shrimpboat and Moron were only two of the more colorful names they called one another. Although time had softened some of the edges, now and then their enmity flared anew.
Hiei fell into step beside Kuwabara, not hurrying.
"If you're on patrol," Kuwabara said, "you're doing a lousy job of it, letting me sneak up on you-"
"I'm not."
"Not what?"
"On patrol."
"Oh, really?" Kuwabara raised an eyebrow. "You haven't worn that getup in years."
Hiei declined to answer. The old black mantle barely fit now, pulling a little across the shoulders, many times patched and mended.
"Ain't you got somewhere to be?"
"Ain't. And you call yourself a high school teacher."
"I ain't a language teacher."
"Teaching science needs precision of language."
"You could be at that club of yours, that Order of the Rising Sun place."
Hiei stopped. "You know about that?" The Order of the Rising Sun is bestowed upon Japanese citizens and others who render services unto their nation.
"C'mon. Don't need Hercule Poirot to figure this out."
"When did you-"
"Remember you brought me to this swank joint that one time? Drinks and appetizers on the table before we arrive, no waiting, no reservations, place three-quarters empty? That symbol in the lobby? I memorized it and looked it up."
"Hooray." Hiei trudged on.
"Why don't you ever tell anyone you were given The Order?"
"What for?"
"Because it's considered an honor-the most prestigious award after the Order of the Chrysanthemum."
"Must have slipped my mind."
Kuwabara slanted him a look. "You're limping."
"Noooo. Really?"
"Is that what put you in a mood? Hey, you think you're the only one who ever got jacked up in a fight?"
No, Idiot, I think I'm the only one who survived a chopper explosion with my back broken in three places.
"So why aren't you with my little big sister?"
Little big sister. What the Idiot calls my Firebird, she of the marigold hair and glimmering gray eyes. Little, because he towers over her. Big, because she is his senior by a few years.
"Don't tell me you two had another fight."
"Ch."
"Well?" Kuwabara pressed. "What then?"
They were almost clear of the trees now, close to the park benches and footpaths. A prestigious movie, with a star turn for Shayla Kidd as a glamourous night club singer who just misses an encounter with a suspected killer. That's what their booking agent said.
"She's working."
"Without you? Don't make me laugh."
Shayla Kidd and Hiei. Working as a team, dancer and dancer, singer and singer, usually both.
"She's got a... part in a film."
And every night she comes home so drained I could pour her into a bucket.
"Don't tell me you ain't in the movie."
Hiei stopped, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Out of the four Dark Tournament fighters, the one who stood beside him now was Kuwabara Kazuma. Why couldn't it have been Urameshi Yuusuke? Or Kurama, for that matter?
Hiei pretended to survey the park.
"They didn't want me," he whispered.
It happened without warning.
Kuwabara hauled back and slammed his fist into Hiei's jaw so fast that Hiei did not have time to react. The impact hurled him backward into a park bench, knocking it over.
Slowly, Hiei sat up on the damp ground, dazed.
The blow stung all the way down to his tailbone. He tasted blood, probed with his tongue for a tooth that might need spitting out. The left upper bicuspid felt loose, but experience had taught him it should tighten up overnight.
Kuwabara snarled down at him, panting, fists still clenched. "Don't you ever appear before me again in so miserable a state!"
For a while, Hiei remained where he was, contemplating retaliation. A horn blew in the distance. Lights flickered.
Clenching his own fists until his knuckles turned white, studying them, Hiei struggled for control. Then he relaxed, snorted a laugh. "You hit almost as hard as Yuusuke."
Kuwabara broke into a wide grin. "Always wanted to do that." He winced, shook out his hand. "Ouch. What's your jaw made of anyway-neutronium?"
"Collapsed matter." Hiei got slowly to his feet, but nothing important felt broken. Indeed, he felt lighter than he had in weeks.
"C'mon, Shorty." Kuwabara jerked his head. "Let's go put the fear of God into some pickpockets an' sneakthieves."
Hiei nodded. "Sounds like fun." He gave half a smile. "But tonight, I'm heading back home."
-30-