I do not own YYH. This was my first attempt at a fic with these characters, and is now under revision. If your review has been deleted, I'm sorry, but I have saved all reviews in a word document to keep, and possibly reply to on my livejournal, should I find the time.

This fic contains yaoi, angst, and situations some may consider to be adult. Please don't read if this offends you, or you are underage. There will be no lemons in this fic, and as of yet there are no limes. In other words, there is no sex in this fic, although there are romantic situations between people of the same gender. There may also be situations where the characters are OOC, and the fic may be considered AU after the Dark Tournament in the anime series.

Thank you for reading.

-Tsunami

The Fox's Rose

By MistressTsunami AKA shinchansgirl

Chapter One REVISED2

Date: 8/9/05

You thought I was just a spark.

Something that you could control,

To light the dark.

I am the flame,

That lights the inferno.

-T-shirt from NeonDragonArt "Fire"

Each day had been a replica of the day before. Even now, weeks after the end of the Dark Tournament, the rise and fall of the sun seemed to pass as a haze for the members of Team Urameshi, hardly registering as a passage of time, much less anything else. Appointments were missed some days, other days they prepared for and walked to school when it was not in session. Some days were spent simply sitting and watching the sunrise, the wildlife, the world that surrounded the lone team member as he (or she) stored energy.

Yuusuke, having battled the larger of the Toguro brothers and won, still jumped at the slightest shadow when he was alone. It wasn't so much an aftereffect of the battle itself as it was of the nature of the Tournament itself – when thousands of demons are screaming for your death, each flicker of movement in the corner of the room becomes an enemy you have to face. Kuwabara faced the same weary trouble, having once gone so far as to pull his spirit sword out on a ghost, only to discover that the hovering presence was only an old woman waiting for Botan to show her the way to Spirit World.

Needless to say, he had been slightly embarrassed at his own display.

Eventually, though, they got over these trigger-happy moments, recognizing them as bouts of paranoia, and so training themselves to recognize the level of danger and facing it before attempting to skewer harmless souls.

Hiei had carried on much as the smaller fire demon always had, or as similar to his previous life as he could, anyway. Taking his frustrations out on harmless rocks and lesser demons pleased Jr. to no end, but the lack of challenge bored the small demon. He found himself having time to think, which was bothersome, as he had only one thing to think on: his frustrations. The problem was, he wasn't certain what it was that he was frustrated with, only that something had been…off for the past few weeks. More often than not, he found himself thinking on the battle between the kitsune and Karasu, and now, after the fact, he found himself wondering if something about the end of the tournament wasn't as it appeared. It was enough to set the fiery demon on edge, but he couldn't think of what it was that bothered him. His Jagan was of little help, as well, as his facing his inner demons was something it felt was best handled on his own, and so did not answer when he asked.

Kurama had won, though few had acknowledged it, and the kitsune was alive…but something else was terribly wrong with the situation.

Kurama was the only one who had the slightest idea what been amiss with his…loss, and that was only because he had been the only one of the team on the 'challenge field' at the time. He knew that he had actually lost that fight; that slight to his honor was not just in the eyes of the judges.

Or so he thought; he wasn't certain on the matter one way or the other, but he had this suspicious feeling that Karasu had not actually died on that field. He remembered the day clearly, but the end of the battle had faded due to his lost stamina and energy…the crystal rose that fed off of demon blood had sprouted with ease from what little spirit force he had managed to retain from his battle as Youko. That rose had been said to pierce Karasu's heart, and so he had been declared dead…but Kurama had still felt life on that battlefield, no matter how faint.

Kurama had spent the weeks following the tournament attempting to convince himself that the energy he had felt had been his own. He told himself that it was only his own fears that made him think that the other was still alive and after him. He wasn't quite sure if he believed this, but the mantra of 'he is dead' seemed to help ease his fears and let him sleep at night. There was a chance that he could still be alive – the plant he had used was known for being somewhat fragile during the stages before fully blooming – but that chance, Kurama told himself, was very, very small.

He had been very nearly certain that Karasu had moved, just slightly, to avoid the piercing that would kill him, but this fact he ignored. He ignored it, because it did not conform to the creed that Karasu was dead.

So as the days continued on in their slow drag, the members of the Spirit-World team weren't quite sure what to do with themselves as they made their living in human world. Koenma had decided that they deserved a chance to rest, and so all missions had been put on hold, but this seemed only to bore them and make them face the demons that resided after the tournament in brute-force instead of getting rid of them in an easier, more gentle way.

Of course after Hiei had gone through and gotten rid of nearly all of the troublesome demons, and a few not-so-troublesome ones, there really hadn't been any missions to hold.

Genki remained at her temple, working and training her body to compensate for all the power that had left her when she had claimed Yuusuke as her heir and given over her power. Hiei had claimed better things to do than school, and gone on his destructive spree, while the last three had continued with their classes. Yuusuke and Kuwabara were getting along better than usual, the later able to drag the Spirit Detective out of bed early enough to attend his eleven o'clock classes, never mind that school started at eight. Kurama was doing well enough without help, as far as attending classes went.

That is, he was doing fairly well if somehow the observer managed to miss the dark circles under his eyes - clear signs of his nightmarish sleep – or ignored the dull shine to his once fiery red hair, and the tell-tale slump of his shoulders wasn't common on this pristine boy, either. All were clear signs of sleep-deprivation and detachment from normal routines, and the former more than the later was what disturbed the former fox-thief. This could have been because it was something his human mother would notice and try to help him with, but then again, perhaps not. Either way, he had taken to wandering through the parks at night so that his screams – should they come – would not wake her.

It had reached the point where the red-haired boy didn't - couldn't - notice as violet eyes watched him from a distance, covered by long dark hair and a cold metal mask.

His past had returned and was ready to claim him.

Literally.

Yuusuke kicked at a pebble that had invaded the dirt path through the dark green space cheap-side claimed as a recreation ground, ignoring the rain that pounded against him. His mother had decided – once again – to invite over a strange man for the night, and the black-haired boy had no interest in sticking around. He had tried, when he was younger, to keep his mother from drinking and sleeping with a different man every night, but nothing he did seemed to change her ways. He wondered what it was about the drunk woman that appealed to men enough to come into their dirt-cheap and messy – not just cluttered, but dirty – home.

Unless they were simply that desperate for a night in the sack with something that resembled a woman.

When he neared ten, men were coming over not only for his mother, but to get a look at him, as well, and ask for a night in his bed. As much as he hated the drunk, he had to thank her for always keeping a clear enough head to never allow it.

Since his death and return to life, she had been taking in fewer men as her lovers – although that could also have something to do with the people who paid their bills, as she was getting a few more 'regular' men, and the drinks seemed to be slowing down. This, however, only resulted in heavier smoking – and she had been spending more nights alone with her soaps. Every week or so, though, there would be someone else there, and those were the nights that Yuusuke didn't sleep at home.

It was just his luck that it was raining this night, and he couldn't sleep on the familiar lone bench that stood at the gate on the opposite end of the field. With a sigh, he trudged through the dirt – now more closely resembling mud – path towards the richer, nicer section of town. There was a gazebo near the edge of some tree-lined paths, if he remembered correctly. It was near the houses of the ritzier neighborhood, and where they liked to hold the outdoor wedding ceremonies in the summer. Not his usual place, but at least it would be dry, and hopefully clean. He would likely not wake up until later if no one found him, but that suited him just fine, as he didn't exactly care for school much anyway.

It was just another night out on the streets for Yuusuke, and not one that he would remember fondly.

When the nightmares hit, Kurama snapped himself out of his sleep before he could scream. It was late – the numbers on his clock flashed 2:14 in the dimly-lit room – but the demon turned human was wide awake in an instant, uncaring of the late hour. Breathing deeply, he waited until his breath had returned to normal before sliding out of the bed and changing into a simple pair of jeans and t-shirt.

The clock was flashing 2:20 as he left the room, but the red-head wasn't paying any attention to the hour.

As he left the house, careful to lock the door behind him, the scent of freshly-fallen rain assaulted him. He shivered in the feel of warm, nightly rain already passed over, and the demon within him was crestfallen at the lost opportunity to celebrate the joys of a light rainfall. This voice was easy to ignore, however, because his human mind was still flashing memories of air exploding and the pain as bombs tore through his skin.

Shoving his hands in his pockets and wishing he'd remembered to bring a jacket but unwilling to go in after it, Kurama left for another aimless walk.

Summer was over, and fall was heavy in the air, so his feet took him to where the plants would have been the most neglected. These were the ones who cried out for the touch of humans that they had become accustomed to; these were the trees that bled not of pain but of joy when young lovers carved words into their bark. It was strange to see something that welcomed pain, but even the wood cut down and nailed in boards to make the gazebo near the home of the old lady Ryuuzaki cried out in agony when winter set in and they were left alone for days on end.

But now the park seemed to be pleased, something which did not immediately catch the fox demon's attention. It was only when he knelt next to a towering sakura tree and felt it quiver in delight that he attuned his senses to the world around him, and only then did he notice that the park's plant-life seemed more alive than the season called for. Looking around curiously, wondering who would venture into the tree-lined field on such a dreary night, his eyes fell upon the lone gazebo, and the huddled figure within it.

He considered walking away and leaving the poor man to his fate, but the human inside him felt compassion for the figure that had fallen asleep before he could wander home, and so the human with a demon's soul found himself making his way over. The figure was dressed plainly, similarly to Kurama, in fact, with a head of dark hair drooped down over bent knees and folded hands. If not for the odd twist of the neck, Kurama would have thought he was merely resting, watching the ground between his feet. As he got closer, the green-eyed boy recognized the figure sitting there.

"Yuusuke?" he called out.

The boy stirred. "Eh?" he asked, elegantly, as he looked up from where he sat. "Oh, hey Kurama. What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"Eh, mom called in another one of her boy-toys and I didn't want ta stick around and feel the love, if ya know what I mean," was the black-haired boy's answer as he looked at some point across from him and up towards the sky.

"So you're sleeping here?" Kurama, despite knowing that many chose to live like this in demon world, was still incredulous over the choice.

"Well it was raining," Yuusuke said, sounding annoyed. "Ya can't exactly lay down an' watch the stars when the rain's peltin' down on ya."

"Yuusuke," Kurama chided gently, "you'll get sick. I simply can't allow you to stay out here every time you don't wish to return home."

"It's not like I'm always comin' here. She's cut back to three, maybe four times a week now, and she's not drinkin' as much. Smoke's kinda heavy, but hey, home is home, right?"

"That's not a home, Yuusuke. You know that."

The black-haired spirit detective didn't answer.

"Come with me; you can spend the rest of tonight at my home. I'll show you to mother tomorrow, and perhaps we can arrange something. Just don't be surprised if Hiei decides to drop by – and if he does, please remember to open the window before he decides to break the locks on it. Again."

"Look, Kurama, the rain's stopped. That mother of mine is probably finished by now anyway and I can go back – looks like it might be pretty close to dawn anyway, and we both gotta get ta school. Keiko'll ream me if I don't show up at all."

"She'd also 'ream you' if she knew where you slept at night. Tomorrow's Sunday, by the way; we don't have classes."

Yuusuke started, but didn't protest that fact.

"Come, Yuusuke. What will one night hurt?"

"Fine, one night. But that's it, after tonight I'm headin' back. I don't need ta meet nobody's mother, either; not exactly polite company, you know."

"We'll see, Urameshi. We'll see."

It's hard to believe how much my little fox has changed over the past few weeks. Not even a month has gone by and his hair is already duller than it was when I first laid eyes on it. I find it hard to accept how poorly he has cared for himself in my absence. Does he no longer wish for the challenge of a hard and grueling battle? What disturbs him so?

I've watched him for nearly a week now, and I've seen behavior I would not think him capable of. He's become forgetful, and distracted. He lets those foolish human females dote on him, as if he were but a small child.

Feh. I know better. We all know better.

Kurama is certainly no child, he is over 500 years old.

As much as I hate to admit it, finding that boy – the leader of his tournament team, no less! – on the streets was probably just the pick-me-up he needed. As any gardener does, the fox loves to care for things. All the jewels he steals are probably still sitting in his hideouts, neatly polished and awaiting inspection from a meticulous master. The boy may not know it yet, but now that he is within my fox's grasp he will find it difficult to escape.

That is okay, though, as he is already a part of the fox's unusual pack-like nature, and not a threat to my status as his mate.

I fear that he is simply tired; I would be too, if I had been forced to live in such a puny human body for so long. Still, I am pleased at how much our battle has affected him…so much that he still feels it, weeks after the fact. Youko would have had less trouble, but I like to think that I would have still won. I wonder, do I still haunt his dreams at night, as I did before our match? When he dreams, am I there, lurking about the edges, even during the day? I hope so. Without something to remind him of who he was, this human world would be so…boring.

And I'd hate for my beautiful kitsune to be bored. This world is not the place for him; he must return to the world from which he came: the World of the Demons. I know that he once roamed as a thief, but that is no life for what is to be mine. He will not be allowed to return to that path. No…the castle that I have acquired will have to suffice until our true home is built, and from there we will live our lives. I will not allow him to stoop to petty stealing, even if he is the best of the best. I'll even allow him to bring his pack with us. They will likely help to relieve any tensions he will have, and keep him confined to the palace without obvious chains, making it less convenient for him to simply leave and steal what he needs to survive.

Once I wished for his death, because he was beautiful, and that beauty was denied to me because of our places on the battlefield. But the battlefield has now been destroyed, and the need to kill him no longer exists, because he can be mine. I am free to do with him as I wish, and free to pursue him as I chose.

He will be mine.

He will be, because I wish it so.

-TBC-