Blue Streak
Unfortunately, in this imperfect world of ours, helping others has a price. It is not a gift that can be given lightly, and it is not something that can ever be given for free. Nor is it the one receiving the help that must pay the steep, steep price demanded for this momentary aid.
No, it is not the receiver who must deal with the consequences of being softhearted. It is not they who cannot resist reaching out and putting themselves in harms way to attempt to make someone feel better. No, it is not them. It is the giver. And oh, how dearly does the giver pay.
To watch someone they love, care about, treasure… To watch them suffer and fight for their life alone, to see them falter and stumble on life's rocky path, to watch them reach around themselves blindly, with no idea of what direction they should go, and not be able to help. It is a pain that cuts us to the bone. To see how they need us, and know it, while they are still oblivious and haven't even begun to suspect the trouble they are in. That is the ultimate wound.
But to help them… To reach out and ease their pain…
That is a task that hurts so much worse.
To help them we must wade our way through the defenses they have set up for themselves, to keep meddlers just like us out. We must expose ourselves, and allow all that negative energy to fall squarely on our shoulders. We must be attacked and forced away, when all we desire is to be allowed to move closer, so that we can soothe the stings of loneliness.
We must endure such vast amounts of pain, all in the hopes that we might, just might, actually accomplish something.
How can we survive that without coming out scathed? How can we survive that, and not lose a part of our soul?
A trembling hand pressed the cigarette to his lips, and he pulled another lung full of air through the filthy filter. The tip of the barely lit stick flared orange and embers crawled up the thin paper wrapping until all that remained in his grip was a stick of useless ashes.
He flicked it away from him, putting all his pent up frustration into that one move, and dropped his head into his hands, hiding in the false world of safety he had created for himself on the roof of his house.
Stupid cigarette. It was useless, just like everything else in his life had turned out to be. Maybe it was time for more booze…
Yusuke blindly reached out behind him, groping for the skin flask he knew he'd left there somewhere, all while his head remained in his lap.
A yell broke through the night, carrying clearly over even the raucous sounds of partying below. Yusuke, in his intoxicated state, flinched so badly he would have toppled off the roof and plummeted to injury, if it had not been for the strong hand that suddenly clamped onto his shoulder and steadied him. Even so, he seemed oblivious of the new touch. Everything quieted for a moment, and then settled back into the steady rhythm it had been beating at before.
Mumbling incoherently, he shrugged the hand off and lifted the skin to his lips, gulping down the vile liquid. "Took ya long enough, fox," he slurred, words sloshing into each other like the liquid sloshed around the bottle.
Hiei's nose wrinkled in disgust. "And that would be because I am not the fox," he said, words clipped.
Yusuke head jerked around, and he recoiled from the sight of Hiei standing over him. His face clouded. "What are you doing here—"
Down below there was the sound of smashing glass, and Yusuke's words died on his lips. In a blur he'd tossed his bottle away, and scrambled to the edge of the roof, where only Hiei's hand on his shoulder kept him from once more tumbling over.
A crowd of thugs poured out of the house, surrounding two unlucky brawlers, who were too busy pummeling each other to notice, and too drunk to hit each other effectively. A group of three broke off from the side, and stumbled into the corner of the garden, giggling insatiably. They fell to the ground, resolving themselves into two men and a woman, and began something that would have been better done in the privacy of a bedroom, or not at all.
Yusuke jerked back from the sight and turned his back on it, hands shaking as he patted down his pockets for a cigarette and finally managed to pull one out. It took three tries before he could light it.
He stumbled away from the roof edge, teetered up the slope, and perched on the peak, back still to his mother's raucous, looking out over the, these days, otherwise quiet city.
He barely noticed his black clad friend perch next to him, until Hiei lifted the antiquated drinking skin, took a swig, and spluttered.
Hiei's let his cough resolve itself before rasping, "Demon's brew, and a decent recipe at that. No wonder you're inebriated."
Yusuke took a drag off his cigarette, hands beginning to still. "Only the best from Kurama. He'll forgive me for stealing it someday."
"Hn." Hiei tightened the neck of the skin, and fastened it to his belt. "He'll be more likely to forgive you if he has some left."
Yusuke swayed, halfway through his cigarette.
"And you've had enough of those." Hiei reached over, and plucked the offending item out of Yusuke's boneless fingers.
"Hey!" Yusuke's brow furrowed, and his hand followed Hiei's. Hiei paused, about to stub it out on the roof, scowling. Yusuke's hand dropped. "Please. You've already taken my drink. Let me have the cigarette. I'm having a rough night."
Hiei remained frozen. Yusuke made a clumsy lunge for the prize. Hiei's hand twitched toward his sword, and, as Yusuke ended up sprawled across the smaller demon's lap, he realized something he should have noticed right away.
"Hey, where's your sword?"
Hiei stubbed the cigarette out on a shingle, and flicked the end down over the edge of the incline.
Yusuke, suddenly aware of the unusual closeness with which Hiei had sat himself to him, righted himself just enough to grope at his friend's waist. Just not for the booze.
"Where's your sword?" he repeated.
Hiei scowled, but gently, for him, grabbed the detective's shoulders and righted him. This time leaving his hand on his shoulder to keep him steady.
Yusuke turned to face him, weaving his arm around Hiei's, grabbing Hiei's shoulder. Their eyes locked, and Yusuke saw the fearless Hiei fight to hold his gaze.
Even drunk, Yusuke's eyes held the same intensity he stared down criminals with, and despite himself, Hiei looked down, face pinched, and dropped his hand from Yusuke's shoulder, despite how worried he was that Yusuke would pitch forward and tumble down the roof.
"You know what happened to the sword."
Now it was Yusuke's turn to flinch, his hand jerking away from Hiei's shoulder to hang useless in his lap. Now his face pinched, staring out at the horizon. His hands clenched and unclenched.
"I... I wanted to talk to you about the other night..." Yusuke hesitantly glanced at Hiei. Those red eyes glanced back and met his, held his stare. "I wanted to apologize. I really botched it."
A slight smile curved Hiei's lips, before he looked out at the city that they had protected time and time again. The burn of the oath they had made flared, connecting them. Hiei blinked slowly, and the energy died away.
"It was right of you to be confused, Yusuke. I was... confused. You didn't do any damage that hadn't already been done."
Yusuke hiccuped.
"But you're sword... You really won't use it now?"
"Hn." Hiei grunted, surly, uncommunicative, still studying the city scape.
"Oh, come on, don't fall back on that. You've had that sword how long? Is there anything I can do to fix this?"
They fell into silence, Yusuke staring at Hiei's profile, swaying, Hiei staunchly ignoring him.
Hiei looked down, and intertwined his fingers in his lap, shadow of his bangs obscuring his pensive look.
Yusuke, with inebriated courage, placed a hand on Hiei's knee.
"I need to fix this. I made a fool of myself."
"No more of a fool than you're making yourself tonight," Hiei shot back.
Yusuke scowled. "I don't even know how you knew I was here."
Though his face was already obscured, Hiei looked away over his shoulder, gently brushing Yusuke's hand off his knee.
"The fox hinted I might be able to return a favor."
He twisted his neck sharply, bringing his face around to Yusuke again, ruby eyes meeting the muddy brown of melancholy Yusuke's.
"I owe you a favor."
Yusuke leaned back, and Hiei grabbed his shoulder again, keeping him upright on the peak of the roof. Yusuke looked down. "I made a mess of everything. You don't owe me a favor."
Hiei studied the curve of Yusuke's nose, the dejected line of his mouth, the wilt of his hair slipping into his face, the day's pomade worse for wear. "I owe you a lot of favors. You've... believed in me, time and time again. You teach me things."
Yusuke chuckled, nonreactive to Hiei's touch, and pushed the bangs off his face. They fell back as soon as his hand came away from his hair. "Hiei, you're my friend. None of that requires favors."
Hiei grunted, dropping his hand, fairly sure that Yusuke was steady again for the time being.
Yusuke patted down his pockets for his cigarettes, coming up with the pack. Hiei plucked it out of his grip, removed two, and held his hand out to Yusuke for the lighter. Yusuke complied, Hiei clicked it, lighting the cancer sticks, and handed one to Yusuke, pulling strongly on the one he kept for himself. He blew the smoke high into the air, and slipped the pack into his tunic.
Yusuke watched, distracted from the embered stick balanced between his fingers. "You a reformed smoker, Hiei? Never would have guessed it of you."
Hiei's lips curled again, gently, and he puffed again, eyes slipping shut. "I'm a fire demon," he growled, after exhaling again, large puff of smoke floating away in the night air. "Why are you surprised?"
"Hn..." Yusuke pressed his own cigarette to his lips, stealing Hiei's catch phrase, watching the ash build up on Hiei's cigarette as he slowly smoked it, the demon, to all appearances, savoring it. Distantly, Yusuke noticed that he felt better than he had, in a lighter mood than he had been since arriving home to find his mother in full-swing party mode.
A swell of sound washed over them from the yard behind them, this time laughter and cheering, a drinking song discordantly rising into the night.
Yusuke resisted the urge to stumble back down the roof's slope to check on his mother.
He smoked instead.
"What now?" he said after a moment, flicking ash.
Hiei took one last drag off the cigarette, stubbed it out on the same shingle he'd used for Yusuke's, and flicked the butt into the dark. "Well, you could help me."
Yusuke didn't even hesitate. Drunk or not. "Anything. You can always ask."
Hiei's hand dropped to his waist, fiddling with his belt and the absent sword.
"Help me clean my blade. I... cant."
Yusuke resisted looking at his friend, afraid to scare him out of this plea.
"Of course. Where is it."
"Where I live."
"I don't know where that is."
"I'll show you."
Yusuke flicked his half smoked cigarette over the ledge and stood, barely weaving. "Let's go then. This is the last place I need to be. And I caused you're current problem, so I'll do anything I can do to fix it."
Hiei stood, looking up at Yusuke through his bangs. "I'll owe you another favor for this."
Yusuke chuckled, ruffling his shorter friends hair. "It's friendship, Hiei. You don't owe me anything. Just keep that oath, and we're square."
That string of energy flared to life between them, again, warm and comforting, before fading.
"I would have kept it anyway, Detective, whether I made it to you or not. But, thank you for your friendship."
Yusuke smiled lopsidedly, still too drunk to be surprised my Hiei's frankness.
Hiei jerked his head towards the mountains rising on the edge of town, and jumped off the roof. Yusuke took a stumbling step, and then leapt, following his friend, only slightly slower and clumsier than usual.
Hiei was already gone when he landed, but Yusuke spared one last look for the bright party windows of his mother's house, and then followed the lingering feel of Hiei's energy, in no small way aided by that bond of the oath he was starting to recognize stretched between them.
He had made a difference.
Everything in life has a price, and penalty. Sometimes there is a reward. Sometimes that reward is even worth it. Sometimes we succeed. Sometimes we make a difference.
You never know until you try.