Standard Disclaimers apply. (yeah, I don't own it, tho wouldn't it be nice if I did?)

a/n: I finally revised this ficcie!!! 'Cos it was complete trash the first time I wrote it... The story hasn't changed much, but there's more of am emphasis on Kurama's choice in this one. For those of you who read the original, I'm sorry you had to be put through such torture. (But thank you for the reviews!) For those of you who actually liked the first version, I'll post it again as a second chapter to this. And for those of you who don't read author notes, well, I guess you'll be really confused when you go to read the next chapter and find it to be the same as this one. Serves you right.

Life or Death

The heat of the Makai shimmered around me, heavy with the scent of blood and death and demons. A lazy breeze blew, too hot to do more than stir the noises into an indistinct hum that buzzed through the thick air while the trees sighed beneath it. Sunlight continued to beat down relentlessly, breaking through the haze of battle still clinging to us like a hazy aura.

The gateway crackled somewhere up ahead; I could sense it, and part of me craved it. For once in my life, I longed for the banality of the Ningenkai, the boredom and restlessness that one only experienced where life was secure, where there were no vicious youkai or scheming threats. Where the air was laden with a different kind of energy and the only blood spilled came from pricking your finger on a rose.

A vortex of energy signaled the opening of the gateway; we hastened through it, silent and stumbling, and turned wearily toward Genkai's temple and Yukina's cool, healing touch.

It was colder in the Ningenkai; autumn was blooming around us, bringing with it cool breezes and cloudy skies. The chill shocked me out of the daze I'd slipped into, and I slowly surfaced back into the world.

Yusuke led our ragged group, grim and determined, gently cradling the burden in his arms. Even Kuwabara was silent as he studiously examined the ground in front of his feet. I hung behind, afraid to get too close to the fragile life the dark-haired ningen held, though for once I kept to the ground. I trusted no one with Kurama's life.

The half-youko had long since slipped back into unconsciousness, though he'd managed to remain awake long enough to protest his being carried like a child. But his objections had been half-hearted as he hovered on the edge of darkness, fighting to keep fever-bright green eyes open.

Youki danced along my senses, as smooth and sweet as ice and prickling with anxiety. I blinked as I realized we'd reached the temple. It was Yukina I sensed, her energy, so similar to mine yet worlds different, flaring as it lapped against each of ours, taking in our injuries, gauging our strengths, and summoning the healing powers slumbering within herself.

Her energy faltered when it touched Kurama. My sense of her disappeared for a long moment, then burst out like lightening from a storm cloud. I heard a door scrape open and looked up to see Yukina stumbling toward us, her small feet still bare, the sleeves of her kimono tied back beneath a damp apron. A gasp escaped her lips as she ran her wide eyes over Kurama's limp form, and her hands flew up to her mouth to cover the startled cry forming there. Kuwabara moved to her side, murmuring something I didn't attempt to hear, and led her inside, Yusuke following slowly.

I remained where I was, watching the dark temple swallow them up like a fog. Nothing was real to me now, or perhaps it was all too real. Whatever state reality was in, it had me trembling.

Numb, I listened to the conversations inside through the Jagan, feeling the soft hum of Yukina's youki seep into the deeper thrum of Kurama's, strengthening it even as it strengthened his body. The pattern of his thoughts changed from restless unconsciousness to healing sleep, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been too weak to produce any of his own healing plants, and every second had drained more of his energy . . .

I shook my head and turned back toward the forest. Kurama would survive, and Yukina had her hands full with Yusuke and Kuwabara. I'd find a secluded tree to rest in, and by morning my own wounds would be almost completely healed.

Something prickled along my senses, some ominous feeling, and I paused. A chill made its way up my spine, and I grimaced at it, unused to this feeling of uneasiness. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to linger a few minutes.

I made my way back to the temple and around to the room where Kurama lay sleeping. Yukina had led Yusuke and Kuwabara to another room so as not to disturb the kitsune; Genkai herself was on the far side of the temple, her reiki stirring languidly around her. Obviously used to her apprentice and his team returning bruised and battered, she hadn't deigned to make sure we were alive. As if sharing my thoughts, Yusuke and Kuwabara made their way toward her, leaving Yukina alone in the room adjacent to Kurama's.

The half-youko stirred after a few minutes, the hazy flicker of his mind crystallizing into the clearer - yet still dim - pattern of wakefulness. His thoughts reached out toward me, brushing gently against mine. Kurama always knew when I was near; my shields rarely worked against him, no matter how strong or how thick, though he still managed to evade my senses whenever he chose. Trade skills, he called them.

Following Kurama's beckoning youki, I stepped through the door and into the dimly lit room. Yukina, who had been keeping close watch over Kurama through her own youki, quietly withdrew it as I entered, leaving us alone.

"Mmm . . . " Kurama murmured languorously, blinking as he slowly sat up and wincing as he pulled at his wounds. He gazed down at the numerous bandages covering his body and frowned distastefully. "He was barely an A-class," he sniffed. "I was careless." He prodded gingerly at the long scratch running down his arm. "And now look at me."

I shrugged and leaned back against the wall as I waited for Kurama to finish taking inventory of his wounds. Leave it to that damned fox to worry about his looks when he'd nearly just lost his life. "Are you finished?" I growled finally, scowling.

A small smile played over his lips, momentarily hiding the weakness that lingered on his features. "What, were you worried about me, koi?" he purred.

Grunting in reply, I pushed off the wall and walked slowly over to where Kurama lie and glared down at him. It wasn't often that I had the advantage of height over Kurama, and I planned to enjoy it while I did. "No," I said simply, glancing nonchalantly up at the wall.

Expecting some sarcastic reply or a teasing smile, I blinked in surprise as Kurama frowned. "Hiei," he began.

I silenced him with a pointed glare. "No, because I knew your ego wouldn't let you die without avenging your wounded pride."

Kurama's frown remained, but it was indignance that shone in his eyes now, not hurt. "Thank you for caring," he huffed.

I smirked. "Take your anger out on the youkai. Not me."

Emerald eyes glanced sharply up at me. "You didn't defeat him?"

"No," I replied calmly, trying to hide the fury I knew shone in my eyes. "The bastard escaped after he attacked you."

"Why didn't you go after him?" he demanded, wincing as he balled his fists.

"And leave you lying there?" I growled. I frowned as a smirk slowly dawned on his face, realizing that I'd fallen right into his trap.

Smiling complacently, he closed his eyes and stretched. "See, Hiei, you do care about me."

"Hn."

Kurama opened his eyes, his expression softening as he patted the bed beside him. "Come here, koi," he murmured.

I complied, holding his eyes as I sat slowly beside him. His hand closed over mine, warm and soft, trembling slightly with weariness; his eyes were wide, and though he smiled, something dark glimmered within them, something I would have called fear had I been talking about anyone else. Kurama had cast his mask of composure aside, and all the depths of his pain and exhaustion shone through his eyes.

A lock of red hair tumbled over his shoulder, still tangled with blood and the sweat of battle, as he leaned up to brush his lips against mine, wincing slightly.

"Hiei," he murmured.

Youki sparked along my senses, white hot with electricity and anger - and crashing toward us far too quickly. "Dammit," I snarled, tearing away from Kurama. My ominous feeling returned, screaming now, demanding attention. "He's back."

Kurama straightened, eyes hard, and turned toward the door, though I knew his youki hadn't replenished enough for him to be able to sense the youkai at this distance. I saw the memory of battle glisten in the green of his eyes, dark against their glassy brightness, and clenched my hands into fists until my nails dug into my skin.

Growling, I stalked toward the open door and the looming presence of the vengeful demon, an odd feeling rising in my throat at the sight of Kurama's eyes. For once he didn't protest when I motioned for him to remain where he was, taking one long glance at my eyes and nodding once in understanding. Yukina stirred in the other room, also sensing the approaching presence, and I reached out to her, willing her to remain inside as well. That was all I needed, to have her injured also.

And Yukina was the last person I wanted to witness what I was about to do.

The youkai was leaning against a tree, the tautness of his muscles belying his relaxed posture. Yellow eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight, he bared his fangs in a snarl and sauntered into the clearing that surrounded the temple. He stopped a few yards away from the temple and ran a critical eye over me, frowning.

"Are you the only one left?" he lilted, brows furrowed. "Only one of four returns to face me?"

"One is enough," I growled. My hand moved instinctively to my katana, but stopped as the youkai shook his head and frowned again.

A dry laugh rumbled in his throat. "I'm not going to fight you, fire child. I've made that mistake once already." Golden eyes met mine, shadowed and grave, haunted by a past too dark for me to see. He blinked once, slowly, and remained silent.

I snarled out my fury and gripped my katana, slipping easily into a fighting stance. Something was amiss; the demon's youki hung lazily around him, unformed and not ready for an attack. Yet something deadly lurked beneath the youkai's words, something I could not quite name.

"Enough talk," I seethed, my senses prickling with dread. Something wasn't right . . . The sooner he was dead, the better. "Draw your weapon."

The youkai's piercing, stormy gaze met mine again, and I shivered under its icy weight. "Are you so eager to kill me?"

"If you didn't come to fight," I snarled, ignoring him, "why are you here?"

Youki stirred around him, rising like snakes in response to my question, as he straightened to his full height. "To kill you."

The demon's youki exploded around him, swelling and cresting a tsunami of power that crashed toward me. I tore off the ward covering the Jagan and threw a barrier in front of me, but realized that not even the Jagan was enough to block his youki. A S-class, if not higher. Dammit! Why couldn't I sense his powers?

I crouched to leap out of the way, then froze. The wave of energy continued toward me, incinerating all in its path, leaving a trail of ash and heat as it raced across the clearing like a fiery beast. Seconds more and it would be upon me - and the temple behind me, where Kurama lay helpless and Yukina sat unaware.

I darted toward the temple, feeling heat at my back and my world before me, as dread pressed heavily against my chest. The smell of flames and ash surrounded me in a tempest of death, driving me forward and pressing me back until it was a struggle to even breath.

Stumbling, I lurched against the temple wall. My heart raced, my hands trembled . . . I blinked slowly, my eyes darting between the two doors I faced. The color drained from my face as a blizzard of fear swelled within me. I couldn't save both Kurama and Yukina. If I went in for one, I wouldn't have time to come back for the other, not even with my natural speed. I would have to choose one . . .

Dammit!

What the hell am I supposed to do?

Choose?

Between my sister and the fox?

Choose?

Time seemed to slow around me, seconds stretching into a lifetime, and every detail of the temple brightened - the faded paint, the grain of the wood, the dancing shadows, the shimmering light. Somewhere in the jumble of thoughts and emotions screaming through me, I felt Kurama's weakened youki reach out to mine, tugging my thoughts back to the reality that was swiftly moving closer.

Go, Hiei.

I blinked sluggishly and shook the daze from my thoughts. Kurama?

Even through the maelstrom of my mind, Kurama's voice remained calm, steady, though I could feel the sadness - the fear - behind his words. Save her, Hiei. She's your sister.

But -

She's your sister, he repeated firmly, sadly. Now go! If you wait any longer, you'll lose us both.

Kurama's words sent panic racing through me. How the hell was I supposed to let Kurama... I shook the thought from my mind. Kurama -

I felt the kitsune's youki wash over me, warm and reassuring. Aishiteru, Hiei . . . With a last burst of youki, he urged me forward.

Time resumed its natural flow, and I slid open the door on my left and raced inside, wrapping my arms around a frightened Yukina and darting back outside, keeping my eyes and my thoughts on the koorime in my arms. I felt the impact as the attack hit the temple, heard the walls splinter, smelled the burning wood, sensed Kurama's youki disappear.

Blinded by rage and grief and despair, I kept running, ignoring the burning in my lungs, in my eyes as I choked down tears, stopping only when Yukina gasped my name.

"Hiei," she whispered, her voice trembling, her ruby eyes wide and clouded with more than the reflection of the autumn sky. "Kurama-kun - is he..."

"No," I said harshly, dropping her quickly on her feet and turning back the way I'd come. It was futile, I knew. I couldn't deny it forever . . . but right now was a different story. Reality would catch up to me eventually, but first I planned to send that youkai to the darkest corner of hell, one that not even Enma himself would dare to glance toward.

I was gone as quickly as I had come, leaving Yukina where she stood, feeling her tears fall like daggers from eyes that could have been my own. Now wasn't the time for tears. Now was the time for blood, for revenge.

I didn't remember removing the ward from my arm, nor feeling the familiar yet feral energy of the Dragon race through my veins. All I knew was that my enemy stood somewhere before me, and it was his death I held in my hand, not -

Then it was over, the youkai's blood staining my arms, my clothes, my face . . . It covered my eyes, bathing the world in red, then black, and then nothing.

-x-

Gray.

Drab and dreary, yet somehow vibrant and full of life. It covered my senses, saturating them until it was all I felt, all I tasted as it pulled me down into a drowsy oblivion. Soft as cotton and sweet as heather, it billowed around me in lazy patterns that I could reach out and touch had I felt the urge to move. But my limbs were numb, leaden; sensations were the same muddled gray as the world around me.

I existed that way for a time - or perhaps I didn't exist. How long, I wasn't sure; time existed - or didn't exist - at a pace I couldn't measure, a pace set by beats of the soul instead of the heart.

Sometime during my state of being, the gray around me changed, shifted, opening to emit a cool breeze and a cloud of silvery light. The two danced around me, laughing silently, skipping through the grayness with all the wild abandon of a child. Or a playful fox.

Laughter thundered around me, real this time, or as real it anything could be in this nether-place. It was as soft and strong as silk, and just as beautiful, a welcome contrast to the unending monotone of this world. It was a laugh I knew quite well.

Welcome, Youko, the voice murmured, amusement still fluttering along its words.

I nodded grimly - or tried to; the voice had entered my state of nonexistence, and though it was more real to me than reality, I was still a prisoner of this non-world. Inari-sama, I replied respectfully, resentfully.

Why so sullen, Youko? It is an honor to be invited to my realm. Don't tell me your ningen existence has purged your youko soul entirely.

Is this how I'm to spend eternity? I asked, ignoring the accusation I couldn't wholly deny. In your gray hell?

A sigh melted through the air around me. There was a time when you would have reveled in the thought of remaining here. An image glimmered to life before me, a shadowy forest alive with animals and plants - a kitsune's paradise. I felt its pull on my soul as the youko within me grinned in eager delight. I could easily lose myself to the forest's siren song; my mind began to wander toward it, into it. The parts of my soul that I'd kept buried for the past two decades struggled back to life, shaking off their sleep to revel in the sights and scents of the forest Inari offered me. My attention strayed, however, was caught on a rose bush, and finally returned to the present at Inari's voice. Is the Ningenkai so much grander than this?

It was my turn to sigh. I turned away from the forest and its hypnotic dance. Inari-sama . . . It's not a matter of where. It's - it's a matter of whom.

The fire demon?

Do you truly have to ask? I murmured, closing my eyes against the painful wash of memories flashing through my mind.

You've clung to your ningen existence for so long, Kurama. Are you certain you're willing to give it up? Something akin to sympathy tinged the god's sultry voice; it was almost tender, as if he were speaking to a child, or a friend.

The last moments of my life played across my mind like a movie, sepia-colored with blood and tears. He would have died also had I not intervened. He and Yukina both. I paused, gazing at the wavering forest picture before me, felt my heart fall, and nodded. Yes, I'm wiling to give it up.

Ah . . . he purred, sounding more like a feline than a fox, though a spark of mischief glimmered beneath his words. Then you wouldn't be interested in my proposition.

Despite the sadness burning through the numbness of my soul, I couldn't quell the tendril of hope that sprouted within me. Yet I knew from experience that nothing came without a price with the fox god. I'm in no mood for games, Inari-sama, I said wearily, warily. What proposition?

Another chance at life.

My breath hitched in my throat - or would have, had I been alive. I stubbornly forced back the emotions fountaining within me and glared toward the fox god's voice. Another chance at life? As a youko?

I felt the god smile. As a youko. Or as a ningen.

Why? I asked instinctively.

Laughter rumbled around me again, chiding and amused. Mistrustful of me now, Youko?

Of course, I replied. You've never approved of my ningen existence. What profit would you gain from allowing me to return to it?

You're more use to me in the Ningenkai than the Makai. Though if you would rather return there instead . . . He paused, waiting for me to reply, and chuckled when I didn't. I thought not. His voice turned serious. You are a valuable source of information, Youko. Through you, I have access to all the knowledge of the Ningenkai and the reikai tantei. My domain lies within the Makai, and you are more useful outside it.

Hope began to weave a brilliant tapestry within me, and I shuddered at its beauty. What about the Reikai? I whispered, afraid to break the fragile joy I cradled within me. Enma-daioh doesn't take kindly to losing souls -

The Reikai has nothing to do with this, Inari said firmly. You are my creature. Your fate rests in my hands, not his.

Giddy with the fever of hope, I laughed dryly. That's quite reassuring.

There is a price, though.

Yes, I said obliviously, still too lost in the haze of anticipation to think of the consequences. You give nothing for free.

Yes. And the price is your soul.

The brittle threads of hope began to unwind, slipping through my fingers to pool uselessly at my feet. What?

He sighed, sorrow and regret weighing down his words. When you were killed sixteen years ago, you inhabited the body of a ningen, merging with the developing soul within it. Because of that, you have the chance to return to life. I felt his gaze shift away from me. However, I can only allow one soul to return. The price of your death is the loss of half of you. It is your choice. If you choose to return to the Ningenkai, you will no longer be a youko. You will truly be Minamino Shuuichi.

I plummeted back to reality, crashing so hard that my vision swam for a moment in the murk of pain. Then I realized that it wasn't pain, it was tears.

-x-

The world came rushing back to me, flickering like fire, rippling like water, shimmering like air caught between the two. I fought it with all the strength of hell coursing through my veins, peaking my right arm and screaming through me in an fiery torrent of despair and fury that not even the Jagan could control. I did not want to return to reality; I was tired of life, of the pain every breath brought. Death didn't hurt.

But slowly I resurfaced, blinking my way sluggishly back into wakefulness. The first thing I saw was smoke, followed by the scent of fire and the lingering sense of death. I looked back at the forest, realizing that only a few moments had passed. Yukina was just emerging from the woods, crimson eyes wide with a wild fear. She mouthed a single word, a name: Kurama.

Muted shouts made their way through the thick air as Yusuke and Kuwabara stumbled out of the half of the temple that was still standing, Genkai trailing silently behind them. Coughing, Kuwabara called Yukina's name and hastened toward her. I got slowly to my feet as Yusuke and Genkai made their way over to me to gaze at the wreckage. Yusuke met my eyes somberly, wordlessly asking the question he already knew the answer to - but didn't want to believe.

Silence hung in the air, heavy as a storm cloud and just as dark. Emotions pulsed around me, battering my already shaken mind. Yusuke's quickly building rage beside me, Genkai's acid-colored regret, Kuwabara's shock and confusion. It was Yukina's quiet grief that hurt the worst . . . along with the cold emptiness inside my own heart.

"I hope that bastard rots in the deepest circle of Hell," Genkai rasped bitterly, piercing the stillness that had wrapped around us.

The wind stirred restlessly, teasing the dying tendrils of smoke rising from the rubble and carrying the toward us. Engulfed in the smell of ash and death, I laughed quietly."No," I murmured. "The last circle is reserved for betrayers, not murders . . . " I gazed toward the mound of debris, imagining that I could see a flash of red in it, smell some hint of life. "I would know."

Yusuke's fingers wrapped around my arm, squeezing. I noted blankly that they were cold. "Hiei, you didn't betray - "

Shrugging out of his grip, I backed away. "Don't preach excuses to me," I snarled wildness replacing the void within me. "You weren't there, you didn't see - "

My perception flickered, a barely perceptible tendril of energy brushing mine. I froze, hoping, unbelieving, unwilling to accept what I knew was only illusion born of the despair of a broken love. When the sense disappeared, my heart began its steady descent back into darkness, falling all the faster for the shattered hope now weighing it down. I turned away from the temple, that haunting emptiness reverberating through me like an echo, and headed toward the cover of the forest and its fog, my eyes closed against the world. Yusuke called after me, but didn't try to follow.

The rhythmic flicker of youki began again, this time a little faster, a little stronger. It was a song I knew well, one I could never forget, full of light touches, warm eyes, soft kisses. Wrapped in the memory, I froze, then spun slowly around, afraid of what I'd see - or what I wouldn't see.

Yusuke's gaze followed mine, and he whispered a name. My senses prickling, my mind was lost in the familiar song of Kurama's energy resounding off mine. I shook my head, torn between hope and the fear of disappointment. No one else shone like that, not even Yukina . . .

The rubble shifted and groaned, tumbling to the ground as something beneath it moved. I held my breath as the debris gave way, eyes straining for a glimpse of red or a flash of pale skin . . .

But it wasn't the red-haired half-ningen that rose out of the rubble - it was the silver-maned Youko.

Nothing stirred for a long moment, not even the wind. Still as the night, I stared, watching Kurama push unsteadily to his feet, cough out dust and blood, and finally fix pain-filled golden eyes on me. His lips formed a word - my name - but all that came out was another wracking cough, and blood. Or maybe I was deafened by the sound of his youki, by the tide of relief flooding through me, washing away the rage and despair and guilt. Without them to support me, I felt drained, empty; I swayed but somehow found the strength to move.

Slowly, stiffly, I made my way toward Kurama, a myriad of emotions spiraling inside me. Trembling, he watched me in silence, eyes shining with the brightness of hope and the fiery glint of pain. But underneath their brilliance was an infinite sadness, a black regret that darkened his eyes to a dull bronze. Yet still I kept moving, until I was close enough to reach out and touch him.

"Hiei," he murmured hoarsely. "I - "

I raised my hand, silencing him, and brushed my fingers across the wound on his chest. I could feel the others' eyes on me, watching, waiting. I didn't know what I was questioning; I knew Kurama better than anyone, no matter what form he took, yet I needed proof that it truly was Kurama before me and that my eyes weren't deceiving me. I had felt his youki disappear, had sensed his soul vanish into death, and yet here he was, alive. Part of me rejoiced at that, yet part of me saw the sadness in his eyes, and knew.

I brought my hand slowly up to my lips. The metallic taste of blood filled my senses, piquant and vibrant and overflowing with energy. No ningen blandness muddled its flavor; it was pure Youko, undefiled and alive. What sacrifice had he made for me, who had left him to die? What love was this, that he could forgive such a betrayal?

"Kurama," I said finally, and smiled.

-x-

People glided silently through the heavy grief crowding the room, nameless forms in somber black and white, tears glistening on their pale skin as haunted whispers tumbled from their lips. Familiar faces drifted through the shadows; Yusuke was among them, and Genkai, Yukina, and the others. Death stood with them, violet eyes clouded with tears though she had no soul to claim this time.

And there was Shiori, red-eyed and silent as she knelt beside the empty casket that housed the ghost of her son. For though no life was lost, her ningen son had truly died, leaving only the silver youko behind.

I watched them from the far corner of the room, the saddened humans who had come to pay their respects to the red-haired ningen they called Shuuichi. Many wore school uniforms; others were older, family members or neighbors. Some cried, some talked quietly, some knelt respectfully in front of Shiori or laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

All made their way to the coffin at some point, quiet and solemn, to touch the smooth wood or the cold glass of the picture that sat atop it. It was a recent picture, a happy moment frozen in time to preserve forever the face that Kurama had worn for so many years. Kurama was smiling at someone out of the picture, his long hair tossed carelessly over his shoulder as he laughed. I'd glanced at the picture only once; it was a smile I'd never see again, and no matter how much I tried to deny it, one that I would miss. There was something soft in Kurama's human side that was missing in his youko soul, a gentleness that few demons possessed.

That same gentleness radiated from Shiori, for the two shared the same eyes. Shiori's were darker, yes, but I could still see part of Kurama in her, or maybe it was part of her that shone in Kurama.

But nothing shone in her eyes now save for tears.

I straightened, wrenching my gaze away from the face so similar to Kurama's. Pain and grief didn't belong in those eyes, especially when I was the cause. Kurama had chosen me over his mother, even after I'd abandoned him to die. But Shiori didn't know that - couldn't know that - and so believed her son had died in the fire that consumed the temple - the fire I'd set with my own youki to provide an explanation for the disappearance of her son.

Either way, I was the cause of her grief, and of Kurama's. For I could sense his youki just beyond these walls, pulsing to the beat of his heart and his tears. It was the first time I'd ever seen Youko cry.

Ignoring the stares of Yusuke and the others, I made my way to the door, unable to stand the suffocating sadness in the air any longer. Stepping into the cool night air, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and turned toward where Kurama was waiting.

Golden eyes dulled by tears and the night, his attempt at a smile failed. His hand was cold as it slipped in mine, and trembling slightly. We stood there like that for a while, me studying the unfamiliar features of my lover, him drinking in the last dregs of the life he'd lived for almost two decades.

Then he shifted, sighing, and turned his gaze back to me. He was nearly twice my height now, his features more harsh, his mouth less soft. But he was still Kurama, no matter what form he wore, and that was all that mattered to me.

"Shall we go, Hiei?" he asked quietly. His voice was deeper also, more sultry.

"Where?" I asked.

He turned his head toward the forest, where the gateway to the Makai lay. His silver hair caught the blossoming moonlight, falling down his back in graceful waves. I followed his gaze, aware of his hand tightening around mine, as the feather-soft fur of his tail brushed my side.

"Home," he replied.

-x-x-x-

a/n: Much better, ne? Not as horribly corny... And for those of you who are still waiting for me to post The Gates of Betrayal... I haven't even started it yet. I know, I'm horrible! I just have no time, between work and school and college applications. Ugh... I promise I'll get the first chapter out around Christmas. Maybe. Possibly. I'll probably get it out faster if I get a lot of reviews on this. (hint hint) Reviews feed my muse, my muse feeds my imagination, and my imagination feeds you! So make her happy and she'll help me write faster!

And I fixed the problem with the scene breaks, so those of you who read it and were confused because you couldn't tell who was narrating, I'm sorry!!! I thought my scene breaks carried over to the website, but obviously not. Sorry!