Rings of condensation formed around where he pressed his three fingers to the window. His breath fanned the glass with fog as he stared out. With the lights on behind him, though, the glass only showed him his reflection and the sparkling refractions glinting off the slowly freezing raindrops clinging stubbornly to the pane.

"Just what do you expect to see?" a languorous voice asked behind him.

A shadow of a scowl crossed his features, reflected dimly in the glass. His eyes lowered, eyelashes blocking out the light for a moment, giving him a brief glimpse of shadows outside before blocking out the view. "Nothing," he replied, curt, hollow. He sighed, his breath fanning up to block his view entirely through the shadow mirror as he opened his eyes.

Sheets and bedding rustled behind him. "Then, come to bed. It's cold and anyone who happens to be out and looking this way doesn't need to see your naked body, glorious as it is."

His hand dropped from the window and he had to fight the urge to cover himself; that would only serve as amusement for the one behind him. He lingered a moment before closing the curtains over the window. While it was unlikely anyone would be looking into a fourth floor window on this type of night this was rapidly becoming, their sole source of heat was a furnace that the landlord kindly shut down at ten and started up again at six. He walked around the room, closing curtains, shutting off the lights, until he stood at the side of the bed, nothing else to delay him. He avoided looking at his companion as he drew the curtains around the bed, the sound of the furnace shutting down echoing through the ducts just as he climbed in on his side.

The soft glow from the artificial candle set in the headboard kept the enclosed bed from being completely dark. He knew he was being watched as he slid his legs and body under the thick duvet. He stayed on his back, near the edge of the bed, staring at the fabric of the canopy above him. The light wasn't strong enough for him to see the pattern, the colors blending together into a subtle landscape.

He could hear his companion turning to look at him. If he didn't look, he could feign meditation or sleep or any of a number of reasons for a non-response.

"This nothing of yours consumes a lot of your attention. I could almost be jealous."

It was pointless to pretend anything now. "What do you want?" He wanted to sound irritated, but it came across as tired, worn down. He couldn't even remember the last time he left this room, the last time he'd worn clothes, or even when he heard his name. He almost didn't remember it, had stopped thinking of himself that way. He just was. He also stopped really seeing his reflection; it sometimes surprised him to see bright red hair falling over his shoulders. The image in the mirrors was drab, colorless, a pale imitation of a face and body, only vaguely recognizable by shape.

"The same thing I have always wanted; you."

He could vaguely remember being alternately excited and disgusted by that statement, but he could no longer remember why. "you have me," he pointed out, his eyes still on the ceiling.

Black hair the violet eyes moved to block his view. The light wasn't strong enough to let him see detail, just eyes because they glinted with the miniscule light that reflected from the sheets and his skin. "Do I?" he asked.

There was only one answer he could give. The consequences of not responding properly were about the only thing that burned brightly in his mind. He reached up, wrapping his arms around his companion's neck, leaning in with an entreating kiss, his mind retreating to a place where nothing could reach him, a safe, quiet place. He knew what happened when he was there, but he didn't feel it. He knew they fucked, often leaving bruises, burns, various marks from restraints of all kinds on his body. He felt them after, but, in the morning, they were strangely gone, allowing him to continue to escape.

Something pulled him back from that place though. He tried to avoid it, but it sucked him into his body.

Warmth enveloped his cock, a wet warmth that rippled and sucked and licked at him. He blinked, a sound reaching his ears. It took a moment for him to recognize it as his own voice, crying out. Another cry reached his ears, but he didn't understand why he was making those sounds. His companion wouldn't do anything like what was happening to him, he was sure of that, but he couldn't bring himself to look down. He didn't want to know, was afraid to know for sure what was going on. It would only bring him pain again.

He cried out again and hands caressed him, his thighs, up to his ribs, gentle, seductive, promising much. But, those promises terrified him, caused him to tremble. He wanted to escape, but his mind was bound to his flesh. The touch would change, would become painful and trap him in his body, to endure it.

His body began to feel strange, hot and cold at the same time. The heat around his cock became more insistent, more demanding and shocks began course through his body, causing him to twitch uncontrollably. It was only then he realized he wasn't restrained, but he was afraid to move. He couldn't keep his legs still, though, his knees rising so that his feet could press into the bed, thrusting his hips into whatever it was that sucked at him. He cried out again, his body tensing, drawing tight before ripples of tension and relaxation expanded from his cock to envelope his body. He sobbed, sure this was some new kind of torture, as he sank into the bed.

But, tears would only provoke more. He had to get himself back under control or he would be trapped for more. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to regain control. He didn't know what was going to happen next, but he didn't want it to be any worse than it absolutely had to be.

The warmth left his dick, but he could still feel weight on the bed, not moving. He couldn't look down, though.

"Why is he trembling?" a voice off to the side asked. He should have known that voice, he thought, but he couldn't place it.

There was more than one? When was the last time he'd seen anyone but his companion.

"Kurama, what is it?" another almost familiar voice said, the one who was on the bed with him.

Who was this Kurama? Why did it sound as though it used to be well-worn in his mind? He didn't move though. It could be a trap.

"He doesn't even seem to recognize his name," the other to the side said.

Was it his name? Was that why it resounded within him that way?

The one on the bed with him shifted so that it felt like he sitting on the edge. "He's been missing for five years. Even for a demon, that is a long time. Based on his reactions…"

"He didn't start shaking until—"

"His mind came back to him at that point."

He remained still. Maybe they would forget him, leave him, and things could go back…back to what?

"Back to him? What do you mean?"

He felt the other weight on the bed lift. He still didn't move, too afraid of the consequences, but he listened carefully.

"Why do you think it took so long to find him? Why did we have to actually see him? This isn't just some normal room and that wasn't just some normal obsessed demon. Nor was his physical reaction just because of what was happening." The voice moved as though pacing. "Didn't you feel it when we entered?"

"The barrier?" the other voice asked.

If he turned just a little, he'd be able to see, but he didn't want to know what would happen to him if he did.

"More than that. This is an extension of the Meikai. That's how he was here. That's also why we couldn't find him. But, it was an imperfect barrier. The windows in the room faced the Makai., though why, I don't know. Perhaps Yomi's idea."

Another name that should have been familiar, or sounded like it should have been.

"You still haven't explained anything about what it means when you say his mind came back to him," the voice near his head pointed out testily.

"In order to preserve what little of his identity is left, he hid himself in his mind." The voice came closer. "I think his whole identity is there, hidden. He only allows out enough to cope with what is going on. When needed, even that part retreats, leaving his body a shell that can't truly be hurt."

"You call this unhurt? He hasn't stopped trembling and he stinks of fear. How are we going to get him out of here?"

"Cover him, let him sleep. We'll see how he is in the morning."

He kept his eyes on the ceiling as the blanket was drawn up over his body. When the curtains were drawn as well with no one else in the bed with him, he turned to look at the curtain, following it around. The light was still on above his head, so he could see around the bed, enough to know he was alone. But, the curtains provided scant protection from someone who wanted in. He kept his eyes open, listening. It sounded like the two were settling on the couch on the other side of the room.

"Will his youki recover once we get him out of here?" the one who'd been standing by his head asked.

There was a pause. "Most likely, if his mind recovers. I don't know if it doesn't recover."

"Why did you suck him off?"

He waited for the answer, curious himself as to what it would be.

"Because the state his body was in, it was kinder than leaving him that way."

"Will he be the way he was?" came the soft question, pain in the voice of the one who'd been by his head.

Why did he hurt? What was being done to him?

There was an even longer pause this time. "I don't know," was the soft answer, almost too soft for him to hear.

He laid awake for a long time, listening, but all he could hear was breathing. They didn't even move on the couch. It was a long time before sleep took him. Even then, it wasn't a deep sleep. Every sound caused his eyes to open, though he didn't hear the furnace rattle alive again. When he woke, he was warm, too warm. He sat bolt upright, his eyes far too large in his face. He was supposed to be up before the furnace turned on. He looked around, but he was alone, unfettered, the curtains still drawn. What was going on?

Cautiously, he opened the bed curtains and climbed out, his eyes lowered, waiting for punishment he was sure would happen as soon as he showed himself.

But nothing happened. He raised his head after a time. His companion wasn't there. There was no one on this side of the bed, no traps that he could see. Slowly, he began with his chores, pulling back the curtains, making the bed. He didn't look at the couch until he was almost done with his chores. He froze, seeing two bodies on it. He couldn't quite process forms to know exactly who they were, but the two of them were lying together, the taller behind the shorter, holding him. Their skin looked wrong until he realized they were wearing clothing. They didn't appear to be awake, so he continued on, unsure what else he was supposed to do. This had never happened before.

He went to the dressing table, set between two windows, and began combing his hair. It was a lot less tangled than it normally was when he woke. He frowned. He couldn't remember the last time it was easy to brush his hair. He brought it over his shoulder and frowned at it. When smooth, it hung down far enough to cover his ass, brushing against his thighs when he walked. He ran the brush over the part in his hand, watching as the strands parted around the bristles.

"Good morning, Kurama," a voice said from the couch.

Startled, he looked over. The taller one was looking at him, the other still apparently asleep. The taller one must have been the one standing by his head, then. He swallowed, lowering his eyes. "I…am sorry," he whispered, not really sure how to behave with these ones. What happened to his other companion? Why had they slept on the couch?

"You didn't do anything wrong," the taller one said. "We brought you clothes. We weren't sure what you would need, so we brought clothes and food."

Food? When was the last time he'd been offered food? The only thing he'd been given for sustenance was a flavorless, thick drink once a day that was just enough to keep his body functioning. "Ah," he mumbled. There had to be a hook somewhere in this. He knew it; there always was.

"After you're dressed and have eaten, we'll get out of here," the taller one added.

He looked at the door. He knew he had to have gone through it once; he was inside, after all, but he couldn't remember when. "Out?' he whispered, turning to look at the couch, seeing out of the corner of his eye that they were upright. "Ah," he mumbled again, turning back to the brush in his hand. His lip found itself between his teeth briefly before he finished brushing his hair. It was important that his hair be smooth, required. If it wasn't, he'd be punished. When he finished, he turned to them, his eyes lowered, arms at his sides, waiting. It was normal for his hair to be inspected now, but nothing so far had been normal.

"Kurama?" the taller one asked, moving closer.

What was kurama? he wondered.

The shorter one walked up to him, into his line of sight. He tried to look away, but couldn't, not with him that close. "Yes?" he said, hoping the question was what was desired.

"Your name is Kurama," he said. "My name is Hiei. His name is Yusuke. You will use them, even when thinking about us," he ordered.

He nodded. "Yes, Hiei," he said, testing the word in his mouth. He opened his mouth and closed it again before asking "May I ask something?"

"You don't need to ask for permission. Ask what you want to know," the one called Yusuke said.

His eyes went to Yusuke and back to Hiei. At Hiei's nod, he asked, "The other?"

"Dead," Hiei's answer was cold, disallowing any further questions along that line.

"You're free now," Yusuke added. He sounded like he was in pain, or something Kurama couldn't quite identify.

Free? What did that mean? He looked at the table his bush rested on, frowning, his hair covering his face. "As you say."

He could hear what sounded like Yusuke starting to growl and could just see Hiei's arm going up to stop him. So, Hiei was his companion now? Was Yusuke like him, then?

"Let's have breakfast and get out of here," Yusuke said, turning away. He grabbed a bag from behind the couch and rummaged through it. "It's not much," he said, handing over a small package to Kurama and then to Hiei before taking one himself.

Kurama turned the package over in his hand, unsure what to do with it. He watched Yusuke and Hiei as they sat and opened the package. Slowly, he mimicked them, kneeling on the floor and opening the pack. Inside were two triangular shaped things, white, wrapped partially with a strip of black. He frowned, again watching the other two. He mimicked Hiei, who took small bites from the white, pointed end, moving his jaws up and down a few times before swallowing. The texture was odd, almost making him gag, but he took another bite. His stomach twisted oddly, almost making him stop.

"When was the last time you ate?" Hiei asked.

Tensing, Kurama swallowed then admitted, "I don't know." Not being able to give an answer was bad, he was going to be punished for it, he was sure.

"I see," Hiei said blandly. "Eat slowly." He reached into the bag and offered Kuama a flask. "Take sips between bites. It will help."

Kurama lowered his head. "Yes." He could almost feel Yusuke's restlessness, but was relieved that he didn't say anything. They finished their breakfast in silence, though Kurama was only able to eat one of the things. He folded the packaging over the other and held it out to Hiei. "I am sorry," he said, lowering his head.

Hiei took the package. "There's nothing to apologize for. You don't need to apologize or fear us. We will not punish you."

Kurama looked up, blinking at him. "No?" he asked, not believing his ears.

"No," Hiei said firmly.

"You're our friend," Yusuke added. "We've been looking for you…" His voice trailed off and when Kurama looked at him, his expression was pained. He started rummaging around in the bag again. "Here, clothes," he said, handing out a bundle.

Kurama took the bundle, baffled at what to do with it. Since Yusuke and Hiei both were wearing clothes, he couldn't just copy them this time.

Hiei took the clothes from him. "Stand," he said, lifting one of the pieces, a white bit of fabric. When Kurama obeyed, he held the fabric at his feet. "Lift one then the other," he said, slipping the fabric around Kurama's feet as he complied. He slid it up Kurama's legs until it settled around his hips. He repeated the cycle with a heavier, dark blue thing that covered his legs. Hiei stood and pulled some green fabric over Kurama's head, guiding his arms through holes and then pulling his hair out.

Kurama frowned. The fabric felt odd, scratchy and heavy against his skin, especially where it was close to his skin. His cock felt strange, behind held so close to his body, being rubbed so much. He tugged a little at the fabric, trying to get it to feel less strange.

"You'll get used to it," Hiei said. He looked over at Yusuke. "Let's get out of here."

Yusuke picked up the bag and led the way out of the door, pulling it open with more vigor than strictly needed.