Die Lichter Betrügen Dich

ooo

The city lights shine down, pinprick stars with even less warmth to offer, and illuminate the life beneath my feet as I stare down at the sprawling street below. Idle cars zip by in miniature, red and yellow fireflies in my periphery, and I find myself staring without much intent. An uneasy feeling steals over me and the hairs stand at attention on the base of my neck — I know the time is nearing. The moon is rising, a giant transparent orb against the black city sky, and it shadows me ominously; I know what I must do, I know what I must do.

But, can I, truly?

I shake my head slowly and allow a derisive chuckle to press past my lips. Dryly, I wonder, How have I allowed myself to do this? How can I have allowed myself to retrace those footsteps? I discount schizophrenic musing when a nagging voice in my skull answers the intended rhetoric with a simple word:

Youko.

Oh, but of course, I remind myself. I am what I am — and I am he. Or, at least I was. And apparently, he is not so much the dead part of me that I hoped he would be after so many years residing in this mortal coil.

My hands clench at my sides and I feel a pulse there, alive within the stressed, flexing muscles. And the pulse screams one thing at me: I am alive. A quick glance over my shoulder to the moon, still hanging opalescent and harmlessly behind me, and I am forced to concede, But for how long?

I dig for a brief moment in my pockets, relish the feeling of the fabric as it caresses my skin, take note of its coarseness. My fingers brush against something solid and I wrap them around the item thankfully; breath a grateful sigh.

The object is a mirror — simple, archaic, and beautiful for all its melancholy. Its face is blank and reflects my unseeing gaze and the moon overhead. I smile wanly and allow my eyes to fall back upon the world beneath me. Another car hums by, a dot of light, another insubstantial thing, and I realize, were it not for this mirror in my hand — this beautiful and cursed object — I too, would have no more substance than the mechanical fireflies beneath me.

And it forces me to wonder, Is this worth it?

I close my eyes and inhale. Here above the horizon the air is so much cleaner, truly cleansing to breathe in. I close my eyes and focus on that. Breath in; breath out.

In.

Out.

Again.

Somewhere in my subconscious a monotonous beeping erupts. A quiet blip of noise. One barely tangible beep. And then, an echo of the sound, louder, more penetrating. Beep. And then, another. Slowly, the disjointed spectacle has become a chorus. Beep. Beep. BEEP. And then the wheezing joins the fray, raspy breaths, a gasp for each newfound lungful of air. Crackling. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I snap my eyes open in time to notice the bead of sweat trickling down the side of my face. A sudden chill steals over me and I shuffle my shoulders in a poor attempt to chase the cold away.

Apparently, for all the night's cleansing abilities, it still is not enough to chase away the fact that this is, indeed, a hospital roof I am standing on…

"Mother," I sigh brokenly, allowing the word to trickle past my lips unevenly.

I am staring at the streetscape again, but the cars have stopped and I wonder if, perhaps, time has stopped. But I'm not so foolish.

I catch a glint of streetlight on the mirror's face and stare out across the way. More so than the moon and the omen it is to me, the street light is beckoning peacefully. A slight twinge in luminosity here, and sparkle off some far away metallic object there, and the calling is so much more endearing than that of the moon behind me.

So soothing, in fact, that I wonder if they will catch me if I step too far. I wonder if they, more so than the moon, will cushion my fall.

Metaphysically, my fall from my mortal self back into the flesh of the being who is me, but is not quite me — and is wholly responsible for the mirror and the inclinations of tonight.

Physically, my fall from the rooftop to the world below.

Would their beguiling light catch me? Can I chance it when the latter seems too uncoordinated, too up to chance, too likely to fail?

I inch a toe slightly over the rail. It feels like a monumental thing; a step in the wrong or right direction based on one's perception. But a monumental thing nonetheless. However, the movement accounts for no more than an inch.

Hardly miraculous.

"Kurama."

Just as I am about to take another step nearer to the ledge the voice catches me off-guard. Rather than losing my balance as some would, however, I brush it off with a mere, barely startled flinch as I recognize the voice.

"Last I was aware, even you, Fox, didn't possess wings."

The snide comment can come from no other than, "Hiei." His name leaves my lips numbly, as though I have just been sucking on an ice cube and this is the first word I have spoken after the fact.

"I thought I would find you here," he replies, approaching from behind.

His startlingly crimson eyes and the unusual white starburst that crests his hair are the only things I see of him. The rest is in perfect union with the night to which he so tenaciously clings.

"Tonight is that night, yes," I concede, nodding slightly and turning my gaze back to the lights beneath me.

Still they call to me. Gently, gently. A promise of a more certain ending than the one to which I have initially set myself up for.

"You still plan on using the Mirror to save the woman, then?" There is no curiosity in his tone, and he isn't asking out of interest's sake. His reasons are his own, and they are purely selfish. I know this.

"And if I am?" There is a hardened edge in the reply, threatening, coaxing him into a quarrel.

"If you are, so be it. You helped us — this is your gain, fair and square."

To my slight chagrin, he does not take the bait, merely states the fact as it stands: I had helped him and Gouki break into the Vault to begin with. Hiei got his Sword and Gouki got his Orb.

The Mirror is mine to do with as I see fit.

"We're on the same page then, it seems."

"I'm not convinced, actually." He actually sounds conversational.

"Explain?"

"Unless you're planning to ask the mirror the grant you the wings you need to fly you and the Woman to some place where suffering cannot mar your precious skins, I don't see why you're about to jump off the edge of the building."

Well, I scold myself mentally, shame on me for thinking he was being conversational. He's just being himself, as per usual. And, in saying so, I concede that subtlety has never been a strength of his.

"And, likewise, I do not see how — regardless of what my intentions are — any of this is business of yours, Hiei," I shoot back, perhaps not as masterful in expression, but equally to-the-point.

"Perhaps it isn't," he concedes, and there is a smirk in his voice. As though he thinks he is addressing an impudent child. "Oh, it probably isn't my business at all."

At his tone, at his sheer arrogance, my blood boils and I turn to him with biting words readily waiting n my tongue, spinning on the ledge to quickly that my shoes lose traction and I lose my balance for a split second.

My heel slips from the ledge and for a moment there is nothing beneath my center of balance. A single moment and I feel myself begin to fall — one split second and my stomach shoots into my throat. I throw my arms out alongside me like an ungraceful bird and brace myself, knowing if I try to adjust myself I will only overcorrect and plummet. Breath freezes in my throat and I wonder if the lights, so beckoning, so consuming, below me, will truly catch me in my freefall.

A small but strong arm latches around my forearm — reassuring pressure. And so suddenly, as though the single moment in time before had not occurred, I find myself sprawled, almost prone on the rooftop, had my hands and knees not prevented the ungodly sight.

A roar of laughter explodes to my right, unwelcoming to my sensitive ears, and I cringe. The mirror has fallen, face up, beside me and in its transparent face I see Hiei laughing with glee — or knowing him, mirth. I scowl as I find my center and sit myself up, still rather baffled and unbalanced.

"Kurama, you truly are an enigma, you know that?" He chuckles, finally finding his demeanor in light of the circumstance.

A low, deep-in-the-throat growl is my answer to his amusement.

"This is an example of just why I stick to the darkness, you fool." He has regained his calm expression and is offering me a hand up. When I meet his gaze there is no laughter there and no judgment.

I accept his hand as he finishes his sentiment.

"The darkness shelters you — allows you to grow. And the light?" He shakes his head.

"What, Hiei?" I ask, as I allow him to pull me to my feet.

"It is a traitorous thing, Kurama. It lures you with promises of an easy way out, all the answers. But, like you just found out, the second you set to fly, it will let you fall."

"How very poetic of you," I smirk, thinking that this may be the most I have ever heard him say at once in our stretching years of acquaintanceship. I turn my gaze back to the mirror then as it lays untouched and unobtrusive beside us. I wonder what to do.

"Just heed my words, eh, Fox? Don't jump."

At this, and the utter seriousness his tone belays, I quirk an eyebrow and regard him carefully.

He merely shakes his head and laughs. "Do what you have to do, Kurama. I won't pretend to understand your reasoning, but just don't jump."

And then, just as suddenly as he had come with the night, he has vanished. A soft swishing of air and he has disappeared, allowing only lingering echoes of his last sentiment to trail behind him:

"Because the light will only betray you."

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho and all related characters and/or plots are sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, FUNimation, VIZ products, and any other third party holding a right to the title. This does not and never wil include me. No infringement of said characters or plots was intended.

Author's Note: So, it's been a while since I've written anything and now I've decided to post this. It was inspired by Tokio Hotel's "Spring Nicht" also available in American as "Don't Jump". The title means, "The lights betray you," and is a roundabout lyric of the song. Also, as an aside, I realize this isn't the best bit of writing I've ever done. But the fact that I've still able to write anything at all makes me happy, regardless of quality. I am my own worst critic, however, so pease leave your name at the door, honest opinion/s intact?

Blackrose