Hikisaka

The scent of blood burned in his nostrils as he ran through the dense forest. Human blood. Vines seemed to leap out and whip at any exposed skin that came near their path and still he ran. The heat was almost unbearable, humid, sticky…unbearable. Sweat dribbled from his pores, merging with the red staining his skin.

How long had he been running? Too long. Since the sun was high and there had been no letting up. He was being chased, his life would end if his pursuers had anything to say about it. Demon hunters.

He slipped underfoot, tumbling down and falling, rolling out onto the grassy plains below. His head snapped back as he recovered himself and listened. Had they gone? All was still. It was quiet. Not a bird crying, not an insect humming, not even the wind rustling the leaves. All was calm. It was quiet…too quiet.

Where were they? A single footstep in the wrong direction could be his end. He felt eyes on him. It was as though he was being burned. There had only been one at first, they'd tried to draw him into an ambush, but he'd realised before it was too late and run in the opposite direction. His realisation hadn't come a moment too soon as cries had been heard a moment later.

He kept himself crouched, waiting for a sign of movement, a sign of where they were. He knew why they were after him, there was no mistaking that. To the right buyer he was worth a fortune, dead or alive. In demon cases, dead were better. Human meat was worth a pretty penny in the demon market, but demon meat, eaten by the rich and worth more than ten million human carcasses combined.

A snap to his left. A twig perhaps? He kept his eyes straight ahead, his senses broadened and at their height of awareness. He'd used this tactic before while trying to capture prey. Spook them into thinking the predator was elsewhere, have them run in the opposite direction, they'd be dead before they realised you'd feinted.

They were no amateurs, he could deduce that much, but he was also no rookie to this game. Hunters had been banned from entering the demon plains, as much as the gods detested demons, they knew that like cattle, demons were best kept alive. Whereas humans had rules regarding poachers, protect their prize birds and animals for the sake of greedily consuming their meat themselves, the gods kept demons alive as weapons.

Tournaments purged the weaker demons, as did drought and starvation. But for those who survived, they became stronger in the process, strong enough to reach the level and ranking to be contained by the barrier fencing off the divide, like animals they were contained in this world, only to be released in the direst of consequences.

He froze, an amateur mistake…could this also be a trap? The scent came from a singular direction. Fresh blood. He sniffed cautiously, human. A trap? Or perhaps a vine hanging low, ensnaring his pursuers flesh in thorny green. A click. His eyes moved and his head followed. The spell was broken as the game of patience ended. A shot pierced the silence, grazing a pale leg and sending birds screeching from the trees in fear for their lives. A yelp and he was off again, dashing through the open grasslands seeking shade or a safe haven to hide in.

More shots rang out, some narrowly missing as he weaved in many directions, each manoeuvre with the intent to confuse, rather than be predictable in his efforts to escape. His ploy working as he reached the end of the grasslands and sank into the depths of the forest. Trees would shelter him; protect him with their bark shield.

He would not be an easy target to attack, they had given chase for most of the day, and they could not keep this up for long. A cave, narrow but it would serve his purpose. His patience was second to none and he would wait out until another demon crossed their path and drove their attention away. Or he would live the remainder of his life trapped, but then, his powers would have returned and he would be the stronger.

Inside the cave, searching for a knot. There! He slid inside the small tunnel. It was dark, cramped, but the air was fresh. He would not be asphyxiated in here and he would be kept safe. They were smart, credit is where credit is due. The loss of a lover, agonised grief…rendered a demon as helpless as a newborn human baby. He was unable to take even the simplest of forms, trapped again inside a canine body.

He had always been popular, desired and craved. The human who wanted him, unusually, wanted him alive. Wanted a pet. Wanted to tame the wily demon. He knew the man well, of power and wealth unfathomable by human and demon standards alike. He was cruel, ruthless…everything desired and that he himself was. Used demons for pleasure, bargaining, and examples. How many had he slaughtered? There was a new group every month with him. Those who were so in awe they strived to appeal to his generous nature. Only one had succeeded…and now he was dead.

Scuffling…heat…oil…and carbon. He froze as he realised what they were doing. Human barbaric nature. Smoking him out. It would amuse him to no end if their primitive dealings killed him and left their Lord without his desire. Alas, his life was…unsatisfied. The fresh air meant ventilation. Stretching lazily he skimmed the corners of the cave, success as he found the crack leading to the cave next door. Fools hadn't covered all escape routes.

It was a struggle, with his bloody wounds it was even more so. With each tug he felt his skin tear, his essence spilling faster. There would be a lot of blood trailing him, but he could reach the stream beyond the hills and allow nature to carry him to safety, and flood his wound to push the blood back. Finally, freedom. He could take off again. He scurried out of the cave and began running once more. No sound followed him, no cries of annoyance…could it be he had deceived the fools? He reached the hill and looked back. Nothing. No one. The smoke rose from the caves he had fled. Victory!

He turned to stumble down to the creek, tired and exhausted. His wounds needed to be closed or he would bleed to death. "Got you!" He keened and took off at a run, bounding over natural debris, his movements sluggish as he was worn. He reached the edge of the stream, preparing to leap over the last fallen log before a shot rang out. Pain pierced his rib cage and he dropped, his body snapping in paralysis.

Surrounded by hunters. He had been over confident. They had tricked him. Deceived the King of Thieves, master of trickery, Lord of Seduction…and yet, though he knew it was over, he felt satisfaction. The shot had hit his spine, snapping the base. He felt no pain except the pain of embarrassment at being caught so easily.

They were over him, discussing what to do, as he lay motionless. He was tired, heavy and lame. Their Lord would be furious, his pet immobile. Their thoughts must have been along the same trail as a revolver cocked near his ear; the feeble twitch the last he would make. As the bullet pierced his heart and his blood began to rise up, as he slowly drowned on his own life force he smirked, his fangs bared. "Amateur." He gurgled, eyes rolling back inside his head.

A/N I just decided that I was going to explore Kurama's last bit of life at the end. This isn't a one shot, though maybe it could be…but like I say. Kurama is a mystery to every and anyone and I want to explore him. His demon self, his human self. I can't promise to update this regularly but I would like to say that any reviews I get might convince me to write a bit faster!

It's been a while since I've written anything and I do plan to get around to my other stories. This is me saying…I'm baaaaaaaaaack!

Perhaps not the best story to actually come back on but oh well! Do I give a monkey? No! I don't even own a monkey!