Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.
Warning: Hinted HxK (hints only, depending on how obvious you like your hints.)
This can be viewed as friendship too.
Reader's Discretion Advised.
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If there was a general term to describe Kurama, there was none. He was far too complex for simple definitions. A puzzle that'd take even some of the smartest individuals and tacticians centuries to completely figure out.
Generally, he was known as a poised level headed person. It's not to insinuate that the creature could not be enraged or be driven to excitement. His fury was deadly and his excitement usually was equally as deadly. Both things for any insignificant fool to be dreadfully wary of.
His tactful and clever mind hid behind the facade of a pretty face. Luring in fools for underlying ambition that surely no one ever saw coming. Steps ahead, he'd always be ruling the game with ease and calm as such was in his nature.
Speak once and he'd know twice as many things about the other than they'd know about him. Effort was used rarely if ever to unmask the multitudes of people, should he even decide there was something worth unmasking.
Though, however, there were only so many individuals left who were even aware of this side of the kitsune. Those being friends, allies, and lucky singles who may have escaped to tell the horrors of the legendary thief's manner of being.
To the rest of the ignorant world, Kurama was either the perfect student and son formerly known as Shuichi Minamino or greatly underestimated by his graceful, feminine, and pleasant to look at features. Of course, his old title of being Makai's greatest lover was thrown around time to time. But who could not to talk about the youko's sensuality?
He was like sweet poison that rolled off the tongues of callous individuals. They both loved and hated this alluring, enticing being. His name itself was like melodic noise, both soothing and dangerous to hear. His touch was like a welcomed wound, dream like and divine and equally vicious and fatal. His words worked wonders all while tearing walls purposely down.
He could very well throw countless fools personally down a pit of death and every second would be foolishly savored.
Without much trouble, he'd easily woven his name, title, image, or being into many hearts, whether it may it be for good or bad.
He was a taste worth tasting even at the expense of sanity.
And it was without a doubt that this exquisite divine spellcaster would continue to be the end of many hearts if not lives.
And yet, even rarer, there laid a fraction of innocence in that blood stained thief of hearts. In this exalted figure, there laid grounded emotions that were not so fickle and tainted as many would presume. Anyone who dared to trail him long enough could see it, that something had combusted in the depths of this once cold hearted entity.
It was something that could have started off small, but like a seed, it would eventually spread at uncontrollable speeds. And everything he was would end. And one day they would end, forever changing him.
And he'd fight it with his very being. Change, after all, was a very frightening experience.
It would tremor through his body, through the depths of his soul, cleansing as it'd go. Unwinding and rewriting his wrongs from rights. He'd struggle and resist it with all his might while it'd purge and consume him with complete ease. Little by little, this "virus" would make itself known, drowning and hauling his existence along with it.
This change would suffocate him until he'd be in too deep. Too deep that old wounds would beckon for air and everything he fought to contain would spill out. He'd surely but cautiously open up.
It would learn to govern him and one day he'd give up.
What he was would be almost gone, but he'd retain fractions of what he use to be. He'd hold on to them, latch on, they were his life. It was all he knew. He'd play it out smart, use this new change and adapt, make it seem as if it had never happen. This "virus" was never present.
Yes, he'd be a changed man, but he'd make it seem as if nothing had come undone. The turmoil he faced would be his to know and only his. This is what he'd do because he was darn good at it.
This "virus" will have done its damage. And he'd have to learn, bend, mend it into himself with reluctance. And so to the many continuously ignorant multitudes, nothing would have changed. But despite this, the kitsune would have to live on knowing something simple yet so complex had done him in. That he had lost the battle to it.
But love did these kinds of things.
And who but one who blended in the shadows would play bearer to this new transformation. For he too was an individual caught by this "virus". As much as he'd like to patronize the kitsune for this secret it was one he found he was drowning in himself.
He, who was forever scarred by this notion of "love." He, who was ruthless and power hungry. He, who fought with vigilance and honor like a warrior through thick and thin.
Whose hateful words spat venom in the face of enemies. Whose glares alone could dispatch his foes to the depths of Hell itself. Whose woes were thrown far from his shoulders in the face of ambition.
For a fighter at heart who riveted in the moment of endless battle. For a man of dignity and rough nature. For a man as swift as wind. Untraceable and detached, he was a character of pain and the picture of rejection.
Whose hands have taken and deprived countless lives. For those hands would continue to do so. For he, who prided himself in his skill of death. For he, who in turn hid in the shame and abandonment of what he was.
For he pushed the thoughts of his happiness over the cliff himself. For he denied himself many opportunities while denying that he even had things to hide.
And yet, he was one so new to the many changes occurring in him.
That this very man could be caught in the trap of this "virus." It was almost ludicrous.
He'd like to disillusion himself that he was doing a better job fighting it but he could see the kitsune had outdid him when the "virus" was accepted. Watching his companion treat his endless days of struggles and inner turbulence like they were nothing had let him realize he was the only one losing his battles now.
And though the seed planted in the ruby eyed warrior spread at a slower rate, he could no longer deny it's root had taken place somewhere deep inside his existence.
As far as he was concerned they were both changed. And he knew the other could feel his changes just as he had sensed the kitsune's.
The silent message would ring on, never to be spoken amongst each other. Those dead words would not exist between them. Nothing had to be said for it was a change they both would one day become veterans to.
And they would continue to observe one another's changes in silence. Adapting to their own changes they would adapt to the other's in turn.
Because to Hiei, no matter what changed in the fox, Kurama was his partner all the same.
And as far as he knew, Kurama felt the same.
Because love did these kinds of things.
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In that last line, love could be meant in general. It doesn't have to be romantic unless you want to see it that way.