Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi
Grief
He backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. What he had witness in there hadn't been unexpected, and yet, he had hoped to avoid the matter, regardless.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, knowing the other demon's ears would easily detect the whisper.
Yomi stood behind him in the hall. Patiently, blandly curious—as if trusting that one way or another, Kurama would divulge all his secrets in due time—he crossed his arms and cocked his head slightly in puzzlement. "Hm?"
"I know what it is you want from me, Yomi. But I'm sorry." Kurama bowed his head until it rested against the door, his hand still splayed across the wood curling into a fist as he continued, "That person, the youko that you knew, truly died fifteen years ago."
Yomi scoffed, the sound a mix between pure amusement at such a ridiculous notion and annoyance at the fox's absurdity. "He stands right before me. Do you think that your human body can conceal your demon mind?" He smirked knowingly, continuing, "It hides nothing else from me, so why wouldn't it betray this?"
His fist tensing, Kurama replied coldly, "Are you still blinding yourself to truths you don't wish to hear?"
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the subtle tightening of the muscles around Yomi's eyes and mouth and knew he'd struck the chord he desired. He forged ahead despite the other demon's displeasure, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. "Of the people close to me now, you are the only one who knew me then. So of all of them, you are the only one who can tell. This is a fusion—it isn't just the youko's soul anymore. The human child's soul is melded to it. Even if I take on the youko's body, that tainted soul won't change."
Kurama closed his eyes, his voice emotionless. "We're inseparable. That's who I am. I'm not the person you once knew. I'm trapped like this."
Yomi remained silent. The fox could easily hear his breathing from such a short distance. The stilted breaths as the demon lord fumed over the insult, which relaxed as he clung to his denial—of course he would have noticed if Kurama weren't Kurama, he had only been joking when he'd first remarked that the demon had changed almost too much to recognize—and the sharp inhale when his senses informed him of what he didn't want to believe. Then he approached Kurama, the now ruthlessly-controlled breathing stirring his hair.
His hand enveloped Kurama's, an adults long fingers curling around a child's fist. He stroked the back of the fox's hand gently for a moment, a remorseful caress. Then he squeezed, tightly enough to feel the muscles protest their abuse, though Kurama's stoic face never changed.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I know you used to be… very fond of me."
"It was lust," Yomi replied coldly. "Not some human emotion."
He smiled sadly. "It must have been something more than lust, because you've gone to such lengths to get me back, and yet still you've been playing this game very carefully, rather than just taking what you want." And grief, Kurama thought privately, is not the emotion one feels after being frustrated in their lust.
His fist still pinned in Yomi's grip, Kurama leaned back from the door, straightening. Yomi's hadn't pressed close enough to truly touch, but he could feel the front of the demon's jacket through the back of his shirt. "You can't revive Youko Kurama from the dead, no matter how much you force me to act like my old self. You're alive, Yomi. You shouldn't chase after ghosts."
They stood in silence for a long moment before Yomi released Kurama and left as quietly as he had come. Kurama didn't relax his fist, still curled tightly and pressed against the door. He closed his eyes and murmured softly, bereft, "I'm sorry, Yomi. I used to be very fond of you as well."
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Owari
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-Windswift