Hey, all you readers!
This is my latest fic. I started off just wanting to write something dark and meaningful, but I ended up with a whole 5-page chapter that is threatening to become an entire 20-chapter fanfic, or something along the lines.
Anyways, this is my first attempt on doing something SO lengthy and SO deep, so please don't blame me if it turns out crap. I seriously did NOT know what I was doing.
READ and REVIEW!
Against All Odds
Chapter One
All around me there was nothing but darkness. Cold, unwelcoming realms of nothingness that had no end and no beginning. Pools of crimson coated the dark-tiled earth. I lifted the hem of my pink kimono, wincing slightly when I found that it, too, like everything else in the room, was now dank and soaked in hot, sticky blood. I shifted uncomfortably in my position until my bare ankles were finally out of the pool of blood. Finally, I looked forward.
'H-Hiei?' I heard myself squeak as I pushed myself to gain momentum towards the slowly-dying figure of the koorime, Hiei Jaganshi.
Hiei looked up at me with those same emotionless garnet eyes that made me shudder and wince. His face was a paler shade than usual, and his skin had a clammy, green tint to it. His lips, too, were dry and cracked as he parted them, as though trying to voice something out. I heard nothing.
'Hiei! No!' I screamed, gathering up my skirts and brushing the bangs of blue hair out of my eyes as I quickly rushed forward in a pitiful attempt to catch up to him. 'You can't... leave now!'
It was useless. No matter how hard I tried to push myself, the dying figure of the silent koorime had all ready dissapeared; leaving no evidence of its prescence apart from the faint glow of red light.
I fell to my knees and wept openly as my fingers trailed passed my neck, trying to lock hold of the single red orb that made all this pain bearable; a lone koorime tear gem – the only one that had ever, or will ever, fall from the infamous Jaganshi thief. I clutched it to my chest, and gradually allowed myself to fall apart.
'Hiei!' I screamed, scrambling out of my pale blue sheets as my arms dangled forward in hopeless attempt to reach out for the said koorime.
'Onna, what's wrong?' came Hiei's emotionless, nonchalant reply. He was sitting on the stool right next to my bed, the blade of his merciless katana gleaming under the light of the pale, coin-shaped moon glowing outside my bedroom window. Clothed only in a pair of grey trousers, the fire apparation stared solemnly at me, his Jagan eye open and searching my mind for answers.
I grabbed him and pulled him into a close embrace; immediately startling him and causing our mental contact to break. Weeping quietly into his strong, chiseled chest, I could tell from the obvious stiffening of limbs that Hiei was becoming impatient, and that he wanted an answer to my sudden emotional state.
'It was terrible...' I moaned into his chest, pulling him closer for warmth. Hiei did not hug me towards him for comfort, nor did he push me away coldly as I had immagined he would. Instead he remained silent, waiting patiently for my answer. 'You were... dying... there was nothing I could do to help you,' I continued between a frenzy of nervous hiccups.
Hiei did not respond, and because of that, I raised my eyes up to meet his – a pair of deep, garnet eyes that held fire without any warmth, mystery entwined between the strings of dark history.
'H-Hiei?' I squeaked.
Hiei brought his arms off his sides, and in turn wrapped them around me awkwardly. The motion caught me by surprise, and it took all the will-power in the world to stop me from shuddering beneath his sudden kind gesture. Tears leaked out of my eyes as I quickly broke eye-contact with him.
'I... want this to end...' I muttered, pressing myself against his body firmly for comfort.
Again, the koorime did not respond. His red orbs were glazed over, and his lips were tightly pursed together, making it look as though he was in deep thought. Finally, he parted his lips to speak...
'It will end soon.'
The way he had said that made everything seem so easy. It was as if the dark, agonizingly painful cloud that hung over the roof of my safely sealed-up home meant nothing, and that all this suffering we had endured will soon pass and we'd soon return to our ordinary lives again.
The words spoken were, indeed, very comforting, and although we both knew what he had promised was, most likely, untrue, we both pretended to believe so anyways as we sank into the dark silence, arms entwined with one another, embracing the inevetable.
Eleven months ago...
Running.
Nothing but the faint trample of feet against cold, tiled earth broke the silence. Running footsteps left a trail of large demons after its wake. A figure clothed entirely in black ran so quickly passed the area that it seemed as though he had been flying. So quick were his feet, in fact, that one would have missed his presence at all.
'Got... to... get out of... here!' muttered the figure to himself as his rough hands clutched over his own leaking abdomen. Beads of cool sweat trickled down his forehead, forming a complicated trail as they entwined with his own hot blood.
'Jaganshi! Over here!' a crisp, cool voice broke through the rushing wind.
The running man named Jaganshi did not bother to try to recognize the voice, and the question of whether that person was friend or foe elluded him as he quickly seized the oppurtunity of a helping hand.
There was, of course, a time when the man named Jaganshi did not need help – where his demonic blood ran a frenzy and he could fend entirely for himself. At that time, his pride meant everything to him, and the need for assistance was considered petty and weak.
That time had passed long ago.
'Thank you,' huffed Jaganshi through intakes of ragged breath. No matter how many times he had said it, the word still seemed alien to him, but he managed nonetheless.
'No problem,' replied the man, grinning cheekily as he stuck a thumb up in a cocky-like gesture.
The simple motion caused hundreds of memories to float through the mind of the man named Jaganshi. An image of a face, so clear and happy and full of life, burned through his mind most of all, and the man named Jaganshi was forced to bite his tongue in irritation and shake his head in refusal of the thoughts.
'Its dangerous for you to be out there like that, y'know,' stated the stranger, pulling out a cigar and flicking on his lighter to smoke it. The stranger inhaled deeply, and then released a puff of grey smoke from his lips. He offered the cigars to his guest.
'Hn,' replied Jaganshi, casually picking out a cigarette and lighting it up in the same easy motion. The man watched him in unfeined awe. 'How do you know my name?'
The man released a hearty laugh as he leaned himself against the metal railing inside his enclosed fortress. 'Its hard not to know about you, Jaganshi!' he explained. 'You're the only rebel gutsy enough to charge right into the enemies without any bullshit concerning your own safety! Whether its due to sheer bravery or meer crap, you tell me!'
At this, the man named Jaganshi could not help but slip on his own smug smirk. It was true; he was the only person dead crazy enough to rebel against the Makai Emperess in clear daylight. As Jaganshi smirked, he studied the man he was currently conversing with – a youth with slicked-back brown hair. He had clear green eyes and his lips seemed as though they were constantly pulling apart into a cocky grin.
Jaganshi blinked away the image of the annoying brat constantly bragging about how superior he was out of his head.
'Anyways, let me introduce myself to ya!' said the familiar-looking man. 'My name is Isamu Urameshi – leader of the Makai Underground Rebellions!'
Jaganshi almost coughed up his cigarette in shock, as he supressed himself from showing any outward signs of surprise. It was by no mere coincidence that this young man looked and acted like the ex-Spirit Detective, Yusuke Urameshi.
'You are... son of Yusuke Urameshi?' the man named Jaganshi asked in a cold, emotionless tone.
Isamu grinned, revealing his rows of white teeth. 'Yep,' he said, cockily. 'That's me all right.'
Jaganshi suddenly felt a weighing pain towards the young man – he had, after all, been there when Isamu's father had died to a group of thickly-built demons. Jaganshi's garnet eyes darkened immediately at the memory of the battle – he had fled when the oppurtunity of victory had left them.
'My father told me a lot about you,' said Isamu, earnestly, as he glanced over at Jaganshi in awe.
'Yeah?' said Jaganshi, eyes downcast. 'Did he tell you how much of a coward I was for leaving that last fight?'
'He told me how much of a frenchfry you were back then,' said Isamu between a swing of his cigar. He grinned at the memory of his dead father. 'He also told me what a great, fierce warrior you were. He said you were one of the most cold-hearted bastards he had ever met, too, and how you'd never quit fighting for those you cared about.'
Jaganshi flinched when Isamu's cold, clear eyes were turned towards him.
'You're still fighting, Hiei,' said Isamu, his voice close to a whisper. 'Whom for?'
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Hiei took the oppurtunity to choose his next words wisely. The moment of his reply never came, however, as, suddenly, the face of another stranger barged into the room.
'Isamu-san!' cried the woman desperately, her wild, red hair whipping the wind behind her. 'We have a new patient, and she seems to be in great danger!'
'I'll be right there!' came Isamu's professional reply, before he turned back to his guest with a sheepish smile. 'I'm sorry, Jaganshi, but times are rough nowadays. You'll excuse me?'
Hiei nodded promptly and watched as the figure of Yusuke Urameshi's son dissapeared round the corner.
The woman who had called for Isamu then turned her eyes towards the Jaganshi. 'You are Hiei-san?' she asked him unsurely.
Hiei nodded, keeping a wary eye on the nervous woman. 'Why do you ask?'
'The patient... she wants to see you too!' the woman replied. 'She says its urgent!'
Hiei grunted noticeably as he swung his two legs off the steel counter-top. He had the hilt of his katana stuck in an iron grip as he moved towards the patient. 'Whoever this woman is, she better have some explaining to do!' he thought gruffly to himself.
Little did Hiei Jaganshi know, that the woman he was then about to meet also happened to be a familiar face to the ex-Rekai Tantei. A fair deity with sky-blue coloured hair and pink irises. The Deity of Death... Botan.
There. What do you think? I thought the beginning was pretty lame, and I'm not so sure if I want to continue. I mean, I just wrote this for the sake of doing something to pass the time. I didn't know it would turn out to be something 5 pages long – and with more to come!
Tell me what you think anyways: whether its bad or good, or whether or not you want me to continue. I, personally, have know idea where this is going... my fingers just seemed to type itself, y'know?
REVIEW!