Unlike much of the stuff I've been posting, this story is VERY new. I wrote it only five months ago, in fact. In my favorite YYH guild on GaiaOnline, we recently discussed some fanfiction ideas. One idea in particular stuck out to me, and the bunny's owner said that I could run with it, so I have. She is credited at the end of the fic, with an exact quote. With this story I have tried to do justice to all the characters and that gorgeous plot bunny. I've also tried to answer a lot of questions that I've had over the years; some of you may have asked them, too. Thanks for reading; enjoy!

Through the Village

He had finally found it.

It was somewhat unimpressive, for being one of his two final goals; perhaps because of magic or because of some illusory charm, any normal demon looking up at it would see only the baked, acrid sky. In fact, if he kept his bandages on and glanced, there was nothing. But now, standing upon a rocky precipice that was not far from where he'd been found bundled in seals several years ago, he pulled at the loose fold of bandage over one temple and let the gauze come away.

It was caked with blood, and smelled as though it had festered. Tossing the bandage aside, Hiei turned his face to the patch of sky where he knew his birthplace lay, and opened his third eye yet again. It was just as he remembered it; not so much a physiological process as a mental one; the sensation was like turning a hot, clean wound to fresh air. As usual, it came with a dull throbbing and a sting of pain. For better focus (and less confusion,) he closed his two normal ones and stared into the sky. Through his Jagan, shapes were clearer and had visible aura; sometimes he fancied he could actually see through some objects.

He saw now the floating island made completely of ice, and could not suppress a grin. It was in his reach, despite all their efforts to keep him locked out. For demons with strong hearts, they were practically defenseless when discovered. They had almost no offensive powers, and relied on isolation to keep them safe. He was ready—and able—to break that isolation. So he climbed; it was not hard to get to the floating island, despite the fact that there was no convenient staircase. In fact, compared with all the effort it had cost him to find the place, getting on the island was exceedingly easy. Once he was standing upon it, he gazed across the horizon and took in everything as slow and carefully as possible.

First to hit him was the overwhelming nostalgia. He had not been long on this damned island, but he remembered his small time well. The smells, subdued by the wind chill and frozen landscape, were familiar. The whistle of wind over parched, icy streets seemed to echo back to him from previous years. In his natural vision, snow fell to the ground and piled, though it seemed to coalesce with the ice instantaneously so that it did not create any obstacles for the inhabitants.

He stepped forward. The lip of the island was curved, and fell into a smooth bowl that was filled with a village. It was not a particularly large or impressive village, but it was his birthplace nonetheless. The wind continued to whistle, perhaps whispering him messages as it did, but he didn't care to listen. His energy, weak as it was, kept his face from turning cold as he walked into that icy breeze. The sky was almost invisible from here, due to the low cloud coverage, and absently he wondered how many millennia had passed since the ice women had seen stars. When this occurred to him, he squinted into the blizzard and saw a wizened, wrinkled old hag standing by a run-down house. She was wearing a pale kimono and had paler skin; her sea-green hair was tied back but still blew energetically around her face in the wind. He came closer, distantly noting the few other denizens that were pushing their little ones inside and slamming and locking their doors. One woman dropped a large glass bowl and stood staring at him. He glanced at her with his deep red eyes and she broke, dashing to the nearest cover with a frantic scream.

The old woman by the hut never moved. Before long Hiei was standing only a few feet from her, but she showed no sign of fear. She stood, hunched in her loose robe, folds of skin and wrinkles deforming her face. She was older than anything he'd ever seen. Her eyes were yellowed and sagging, and her lips were pressed tightly together, no teeth to make the expression painful. Her right arm was lifted from her body in a perfect 90-degree angle, and she was pointing south. Her hand was wrinkled and curved in an arthritic rictus.

Hiei surveyed her, and considered gently pressing a handful of fire into her breast. He was reaching out to do it when a high-pitched scream sounded from a nearby house, and he looked around. Faces, dozens of them, all pale and framed by green hair, were peering down at him from windows all around. In those faces—he had learned to be very good at reading others—he saw fear, and anger, but primarily a sense of justice.

His hand, crackling with destructive, unused energy, fell back to his side. With the wind blowing about them, flapping against their clothes, and the chill trying to permeate their skin, he realized that, kin as they were, every woman here expected him to set fire to each home methodically before slaughtering them—or most of them. And then they would have been right all along.

Without a word, Hiei turned and headed south, into the eye of the storm.

His walk took him through the deserted streets, and windows and doors slammed shut around him as he walked. This isolation and danger that surrounded him was not new, nor surprising. The fact that he was related to everyone here by blood seemed not to matter to any of them—and perhaps that was for the best. If he had come here expecting a welcoming party, he would have been highly disappointed. But for every door that shut, he felt his options narrowing. Each entry into a warm home that closed before him was another path that he would never get to take—that he would not even be allowed to pass up of his own accord.

He walked to the southernmost end of the island, out of the village and into a snowy landscape, where a small hill peaked before the last hut came into view. He knew, instinctively and assuredly, that his destination was that isolated hut. He paused on the hilltop, taking in the surroundings. Even though the scents were muted by snow, he remembered them. He summoned whatever courage was left to him and walked on, leaving any expectations he might have had on the hill.

There was a small, light path heading to the door of the hut that was almost completely snowed over—clearly, few walked this road. He did now, perhaps the first one in many years, and paused again at the sliding door. He was deciding whether to knock or throw open the door when it slid open of its own accord, and a vaguely familiar female shape peered out. The lighting was bad, and she squinted through the cold at his face.

"Go away. No one is allowed to enter here." Hiei stared, his eyes boring into the female before him. She kept his gaze, and stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind her. "What business do you have here?"

"I might as you the same question," Hiei said, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the wind. The woman—he thought her name was Rui—leaned forward, examining him. She did not seem to recognize the baby that she had thrown off their precious island some years ago.

"I am the sworn protector of the koorime who resides here," she said, furrowing her eyebrows. "No one is to enter or leave this building while I guard it."

"And why does the inhabitant need protection? Surely you pose no more threat than anyone else on this godforsaken island," Hiei said, giving Rui an intent stare. Her eyes lit up with the memory, and his aura spilled forth a bit, wrapping them both in a warm blanket that was only slightly hostile.

"You," she whispered, the word carried away by the storm before he could hear it—though he read her lips. He stood perfectly still, waiting for her to banish him again. Because she was a generation his elder, she was slightly taller, but not much. They were nearly on eye level, and he stared relentlessly. After a long silence (though it was hardly quiet there), she decided to answer his question.

"The koorime who lives here needs protection from the villagers," Rui said levelly, "for she has committed atrocious crimes to our people."

"And what of your crimes?" Hiei asked immediately.

Rui glanced away at that, and he knew that she remembered him. "In the eyes of my neighbors, I am innocent. But my heart says otherwise, and that is why I am guarding her." Hiei looked at Rui—through Rui—and decided that she was not lying. It did nothing to change his opinion of her, her people, or this island, but it was good to know that she told the truth anyway. He paused, wondering how to continue. "The koorime also needs protection from herself," Rui said, leaning closer to him in a conspiratorial way. He realized that she was divulging secret information, and listened carefully. "The elders forbid self-harm, you see, and my charge has attempted to kill herself in the past."

Hiei held his tongue, looking into eyes that sent jolts of recognition through his ribcage. It was odd seeing a face that he had last seen as an infant—be it a semi-sentient one or not. "Your elders have robbed her of her base rights," he said levelly.

Rui looked at him for a long time, ignoring the wind and snow that blew around them in strong torrents. "Yes," she finally agreed. "They have left her with nothing. Now, go, and leave her in peace. Our lives near eternity in length, and she has many sins to atone for."

"Let him in," she called from behind the wooden door. Hiei's eyes flickered past Rui to the bland wood, and then back. Her face was constricted in indecision. He faced her fully, holding her gaze with his strength.

"I was lost in the storm," he said, pushing past her. "You have not seen me." He paused at the door, waiting for confirmation.

"You were lost in the storm, Hiei," Rui said, bowing her head. "I have not seen you. Not in many years." He reached with slightly shaking fingers and pulled the door open.

A wave of warm, fragrant air blew at him, and he stepped through the threshold, making small puddles when the ice melted from his boots. Inside the light was even poorer, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the sight before him. When they did, he felt obligated not to trust them, anyway, but thought that he was either seeing the truth or going mad—and either way he would need to keep walking. A koorime knelt before him, her face to an altar on the far side of the room. She wore no shoes, and her pale feet poked from beneath her folded legs as she bent and pressed her hands together. There was a small hall to his right, but he did not bother looking down it. The room he was currently in was large, square, and furnished sparsely. The altar was covered in hundreds of melted candles; there was a small sleeping mat in one corner, and an empty fireplace with a kettle of cold rice porridge hanging over it.

His sense of smell was completely overwhelmed by the flowers filling the room—lobelias, though he didn't know it (and wouldn't meet someone who could tell him what they were for a year or more.) They were blue with three or four petals per flower, and nets filled with them hung from the ceiling. Great piles were spread along all four walls, and the petals were scattered over the hardwood flooring of the room. Despite the fact that it was warmer than it was outside, everything was tones of white and blue, and it felt just as desolate as the village had, with a bit more emotion.

"I knew you would come, Hiei," his mother said, keeping her face turned from him. "I have waited a long time."

He had nothing to say to that, so he said nothing. Instead, he stood awkwardly at the door, waiting for her to say more. Before she did, she turned and met his gaze with eyes that were brilliant red like his own—but more than that, they were alive. She stayed on the far end of the room, perhaps afraid of him, though he sensed no tension in her stance or aura.

"You may have asked yourself why I conceived you," Hina said, her eyes taking him in slowly like a long-awaited drink. "It was because your father melted my heart," she smiled, a few tears dripping from her eyes and clacking to the floor. "He did what no one else could do, and showed me how to feel alive. I would never pass up that chance again, no matter how I have suffered for it."

"And me?" Hiei choked out, balling his hands into fists. "What about how I have suffered?"

"You are alive," Hina whispered, her hands dropping to her sides. "You are alive, and you have a family. There is no greater gift in any world, in any dimension."

Hiei closed his mouth, and remembered the ancient, silent woman who had pointed him here, undoubtedly so that he would destroy the woman who had spawned him. His desire to kill her and all the others here had disappeared—and now he thought he knew why. There's no joy in killing what's already dead.

Most of his questions had been answered—but there was one more. Before he could find a way to vocalize it, Hina closed her eyes. "Forgive me, Hiei. The ones I have sworn to obey have robbed me of the few rights that I ever had. I hate them—but I love them, as well. They are kin—that is the curse of family."

He made a noise of contempt in the back of his throat; it was out before he could contain himself. She smiled, turning slightly away from him. "I know how you feel about your relatives. But you and your sister came into existence tangled up in each other's arms, and grew in my womb together for months. There is no greater bond than that."

"Where is she?" Hiei asked, dreading the answer, because he realized that something was wrong. Hina squeezed her eyes shut, and in that second he loved her, truly loved her, perhaps for the first time. Just as he understood this simple concept, he recognized that he would probably never return to this island, or to his mother. He had already learned enough about his future to know that it had nothing to do with this sterile, snowy, lifeless island. "Yukina is missing," he said flatly, staring forward.

"Find her," Hina whispered, her eyes catching his gaze with a teary plea. "Find her, my son."

What would happen if Hina hadn't committed suicide and had been alive when Hiei came? –havishanta from GaiaOnline (Forever, Fornever: A Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Guild)

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