Brother My Brother
---
Dark storm clouds writhed angrily in the sky, their ominous actions a mere precursor to a storm that was imminent. Harsh updrafts swept over the earth, sending up an array of loosed blossoms and leaves. Spiraling on the vicious air current, they put on a spectacular, though painfully violent, display as they twisted through the air contorting crudely and swirling with a sickening madness in the wild breeze. Finally they fell again to the ground, being swept along the cold, frost-hardened ground harshly, their fragile, brittle bodies virtually disintegrating from the force of contact.
Crimson eyes narrowed in contrived anger in a desperate attempt to at least seem annoyed and spiteful. Yet, his efforts were in vain. He couldn't bring himself to be angry; the emotion would be far too misplaced if he tired. In all actuality, the most he could bring himself to be was confused.
Brother my brother,
Tell me what are we fighting for?
We've got to end this war
We should love one another
Oh, can't we just pretend
This war never began?
We can try
Brother my brother
He let out a quiet murmur, wariness etched deep into each spoken syllable, "Damn you Kitsune…"
It was a last resort effort to perhaps direct some feeling of anger towards the stubborn Fox, and it had failed.
All that remained now was the seemingly pointless, albeit practically universal question, 'why?' Why was the Fox being so adamantly stubborn about this entire ordeal? Why was he himself taking to this news so horribly? Why had they even argued over what was clearly the Fox's choice in the first place? Yet, most importantly: Why had he turned his back on the Fox?
He wasn't really sure as to why he had, actually.
But that didn't help the current situation at all.
There were many times between them, he really couldn't recall how many now, when he and Kurama had fought. Several of those times it had been more than just a few cruelly exchanged words as well. And, not that he was proud of the fact, but most times he had been the one to start those petty and those not-quite-as-petty arguments.
It was, however, to be expected from them. As close of friends as they were, fighting was a natural occurrence. They were simply too alike to get along perfectly, and at the same time, they were different enough to warrant an occasional fall out.
Each time, though, they some how got over it. Against Hiei's pride and stubbornness, and against Kurama's own stubbornness and ideals, they always ended up back on friendly terms.
But somehow, he knew this time was different…
This time he had gone too far.
He had overstepped a delicate boundary line and he knew he was dealing with the consequences now. There was no undoing it; there was no way around it…
This was one time he knew they wouldn't be able to pretend nothing had ever happened.
We face each other from different sides
The anger burns can't remember why
It's kind of crazy to cause so much pain
Our foolish pride makes us hate this way
He shook his head, the fine ebony tresses that were his bangs, falling into his face gently and being ruffled up once again by the breeze.
"This really is all my fault isn't it, Kurama?" his words were carried away on the wind, lingering echoes caught on the breeze. "It's all my doing." He nodded, as though conceding quietly to the fact. "Because I turned away from you."
As the words slipped from his lips, he cringed at their physical sound. Cold. Harsh.
"I've become the same as the Koorime who cast me from my own home, and like all the others who turned away from me…" his voice darkened "…the 'Forbidden Child'…"
He pulled his arms across his chest, crossing them defensively before him as a shield against the gradually worsening weather. "I've done to you the same thing that everyone else has done to me."
Pitter-pat. Pitter-pat.
The angry storm clouds overhead finally burst, sending a cold and lonely drizzle descending towards the earth. Idle droplets splashed to the ground irregularly until the storm could gain momentum. Slowly, the steady drumming of rain enveloped his senses; almost soothing really.
Sable bangs clung damply to his forehead, his pale flesh glistening from the rainwater.
"But that doesn't change things, Kitsune. Whatever my reason for walking away, you've no excuse." His gaze dropped to the ground, "You have no reason to act so indifferent about your condition."
For the first time since that night several moons ago, when he had first left, his voice adopted a hint of anger. "You have no right not to care about yourself. And you have no right not to let other people--" the sentiment came out with difficulty, "--care about you."
And while a small amount of the anger, which he had been wishing for all this time would appear, bubbled within him, a voice in his head diminished that very minute emotion abruptly.
'You yourself have no right to care about him. You shouldn't talk.'
Ignoring his conscience, and the completely true words it expressed, he looked himself over briefly. His raven black cloak lay flat against his skin, clinging rain-soaked and tenaciously to his dampened underlying flesh.
In the time he had spent sitting in the confines of the branches of the Cherry tree thinking, it must not have become directly apparent to him that he was getting drenched more and more with each passing second as the rain fell harder.
And yet, his body had long since given up being cold.
So, he returned again to the only sanity he currently knew; his mind.
'You know, Kurama, I don't know why you wish people--or think people don't care about you. And, I don't know why I actually do care about you as much as I do--' he knew well the reason why he cared so deeply for the Kitsune, he just couldn't will himself to admit it yet '--but so long as we're facing each other from opposite ends, we're never going to get anywhere.'
We watch our world fall apart
Tell me what good is winning
When you lose your heart
'Never going to get anywhere' He chuckled hoarsely at the mere thought, wasn't that the biggest understatement of the year?
Most assuredly.
And as that prospect, so completely plausible, hung before him, his heart clenched in pain; correspondingly, his fist clenched in anger.
"It makes no sense" he voiced through gritted teeth, his fists curled so tightly into balls at his sides that they were trembling in suppressed rage, "Even if I'm winning my side of this idiotic argument by staying away from you…."
His voice dropped an octave, his tone becoming choked and constricted, "Why? Why-in-the-hell-does-it-hurt-so-damn-much?"
He turned numbly in his seat, barely catching himself when he nearly lost balance on the rain-slicked branch. Turning so that his eyes bored deep, painful holes into the soaked trunk of the sturdy tree, he rammed a fist into the wood angrily.
"What-in-the-seven-hells-is-the-fucking-point-of-winning-this-damned-argument-if-it-has-to-hurt-this-damn-much?" The sentiment came out angrily, his voice wavering in a losing attempt to keep his rage in check.
Again and again angry, furious fists found their way into the trunk of the tree. Ramming repeatedly into the coarse wood until the bark splintered under the force, sending blackened splinters bursting into the air violently. Amidst the black slivers swirling in the air, a spray of crimson accompanied them. He stopped suddenly, registering the searing pain in his fists.
With empty eyes he gazed at his hands. Scarlet streams trickled from abrasive cuts adorning his silken flesh, the knuckles raw and painful. Slow rivulets coursing down the back of his hand left vibrant trails in their wake. The rain, falling with increasing ferocity pounded against his body mercilessly, bruising delicate tissue. As the harsh rains connected with the open wounds on his knuckles he bit back the urge to cry out in pain.
More than the physical kind…
He lowered his head into a bowed position, his gaze lingering on the blood oozing from the lacerations on his knuckles. He concentrated valiantly on the feeling. How they throbbed painfully with each beat of his heart, how it seared like white-hot coals when water splashed upon them…
How his heart was being torn to pieces and left bleeding in his hollow chest cavity…
Laying his head against the rough bark of the tree he fought to concentrate on the feeling; fought to keep control. It was a losing battle, either way. And finally the damn burst.
As his tears joined in the downpour.
Brother my brother
Tell me what are fighting for
Isn't life worth so much more
We should love one another
Oh, can't we just pretend
This war never began
Tell me why
Brother my brother
"Why are we doing this?" he asked numbly, knowing full well that the only answer he would receive was the howling of the wind through the trees. "Why are you being this way?" The question was laced with resentment as it left his lips.
He stopped for a moment, perhaps to ponder the answers to these two questions on his own. Then, he added in a hoarse whisper, "Why am I being this way…?" Unlike its predecessors, this question found an answer. Not in any spoken sentiment. Merely in the increased beating of his heart.
Glistening innocently against the bleak backdrop of gray sky, and having found shelter within the folds of his soaked through cloak, the hirui reflected his sopping reflection familiarly. He averted his gaze quickly.
"Why…?" he asked finally, his voice quiet and drawn, as though reluctant to believe what he knew all too well to be true. "How in the hell is it possible?" he prompted, his reluctance being overshadowed by curiosity, though his voice still remained soft.
Yes
We can try
Brother my brother
Yes
It made no sense, this feeling. And yet, somehow it made all the sense in the world. A contradiction in terms, perhaps? No, not quite. The two sentiments express clearly two opposites, and yet, both express a common knowledge: Emotions aren't meant to make sense, it's feeling them that should.
"Damn you Fox" he muttered again tiredly, "Always playing your cards right so that I'm always the one to come to you in the end."
He could recall clearly several incidents that gave truth to the just spoken assertion. Any of the fights they had, and even now he had a distinct feeling that this particular one would join the ranks in due time, Kurama had always managed to successfully reduce him to a guilty imbecile who came back to set things right between them.
It was as though Kurama was never phased by any of what they went through. As though he were incapable of remorse or guilt. Or emotions at all. Except of course, his fatal calm and indifference. The very emotions that were, in a way, not emotions at all. They were merely a precedent of his seemingly heartless demeanor.
Even knowing these things very well, however, Hiei could simply not bring himself to be angry with the Fox. Because, although his outward actions and tendencies illustrated indifference, he knew better. Kurama's exterior was a shallow mask; a brazen façade. And beneath the layer of an emotionless disposition, well, therein lay the real Kurama. The Kurama who not one being really completely knew nor understood. Sometimes he wasn't sure whether or not Kurama even knew himself.
With as many guises as he assumed, he seriously doubted it.
Let's take a moment and look deep inside
And say we'll learn to give love a try
When matters differ as we seem to be
There's so much more to me than what you see
There was more to him than the lies. More to him than his shallow exterior. He himself had seen the proof few times, but he had seen it nonetheless, which had to account for something.
For instance, the day they had been caught in the confines of the child, 'Game Master's' territory. When it came time for Kurama to step up, he knew situation. He knew what he had to do. And, he justified himself as such. He killed the child because he knew the price of millions of lives outweighed the price of one life. But after he had done the deed, the change in his countenance did not go unnoticed.
Guilt, remorse, anger…
The very emotions Hiei had accused him of not having were clearly mirrored in his jaded gaze at that time.
There really was more to him than he let on.
You don't have to be this way
Think about the consequences
Turn around and walk away
"Still" he sighed, shaking his head, renegade water droplets spraying him, "You don't have to pretend nothing is wrong. You don't have to act like you don't care."
He stopped suddenly and chuckled at what he had just said, how could he have said that? Telling Kurama all of that was like telling him he didn't have to be stubborn. And, that being the case, was impossible for him to achieve.
Kurama not being stubborn was like Hiei not being bound by his pride.
It just wasn't going to happen.
And he knew it, much as he'd rather not have that knowledge.
"You're a bastard, you know that Kurama?" The question was asked to naught but the wind and rain, yet he spoke as though he stood right before his companion as he said the words. "You're a buffoon." Somehow taking everything out on the not momentarily present Kurama eased his spirit.
"You think you know the consequences of what you're doing; of how you're acting. But you know nothing. You're blind. You don't understand the consequences at all; that you're causing more people pain by acting strong and unaffected… It's more pain to them having to see you go through your days like this than it would be for them to see you as a normal being for once."
He cringed reflexively as the words left his lips, feeling as though they ripped through him with more understanding than he was willing to admit he possessed.
"Why can't you just walk away from your ideals for once?" He knew it was a stupid question the moment he asked it. There was no need to have asked the question; he knew the answer. Why? Because he was a stubborn fool.
"I know you're not going to change. After centuries of living like you are now, it is foolish for me to expect that of you. You're stubborn and rooted in your ways." Though the remark came out sounding bitter, it was, in Hiei's own unique way, a compliment on Kurama's never wavering resolve to see things through to the end he intended.
Brother my brother
Tell me what are fighting for
Isn't life worth so much more
We should love one another
Oh, can't we just pretend
This war never began
Tell me why
Brother my brother
He jumped from the branch silently, landing on the rain-softened earth lightly. Emerald shoots of grass hung limp, glittering dully as dew clinging to their stems reflected pale midday sunlight from behind a catalyst of storm clouds.
He glanced towards the sky, cool rain splashing his face as he did so. The rain was slowing to a drizzle, and the once bleak, gray sky shone through in pallid tones of azure. Faint rays of sunlight streamed through breaks in the sparse cloud cover and illuminated the area.
"You know, Kurama you really are the most stubborn bastard I know," he remarked chuckling softly. "And in spite of that, I never could stay angry with you."
He knew their quarrel had been petty, and he had overstepped a line; after all, he had no right to tell Kurama how to go about living his life.
So really, he had no right to be angry. And, in truth, he knew he wasn't. In fact, he couldn't even remember why he had walked out in the first place. Any reasons he had had were intangible.
"But the Fox isn't one to easily forgive…" he muttered quietly to himself.
A feeble glint caught his eye, and he turned towards the object. Kneeling down, he picked up the small bead; a single hirui that he had shed. It must've fallen to the earth as he sat high in the tree thinking.
A thin smile creased his lips; he knew the perfect way to make Kurama see that he understood.
And so, making good use of the speed he was revered for, he darted off.
Resolved to find a leather band.
---