DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN YU YU HAKUSHO OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!
A/N: I'm back from the dead! Again! I recently switched accounts from Flyboy62 to this one, so I figured I needed to get a story up on this new account as quick as possible. Hope you all enjoy it.
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Blackened Blue Eyes
Red.
Everything was red.
The earth on with he stood, which had glowed a beautiful and vibrant white just hours ago, was now stained crimson with the blood of the fallen. No matter how hard one tried, it would be impossible to navigate a way through this battlefield without stepping in the fluid that seeped from the corpses of the dead and dying.
Hiei couldn't help but smirk as his blazing gaze drifted upwards towards the sky above. The Heavens directly contradicted the ground on which he stood, countering the death and destruction with the brilliant and radiant sun that illuminated the day and the blue sky overhead, the clouds resembling feathers as they floated lazily upon the soft wind.
The glint of the burning orb overhead reflected off of the fire demon's stained katana, which was lowered towards the ground as the blood of his foes dripped slowly from the very tip of the blade. His trademark black cloak and white scarf had been discarded long ago, lost in the fray of combat that shook this once peaceful place. Now he was clad only in a pair of torn and ripped combat pants, black as the death that lingered on the air about him, leisurely making its way through the carnage and collecting the souls of the defeated, along with a pair of scuffed and stained military boots. His toned and strong form, which had once appeared tan and smooth, was now bruised and pale. His flesh was rough and calloused from the battle, his own life ebbing from his many wounds and down onto the snow covered field to mix with the blood of the others.
Cringing slightly as he took a small step forward, Hiei thrust his sword into the ground and leaned upon it weakly, his legs no longer possessing the awe inspiring strength that they had possessed prior to the bout. Pulling it free and pushing it back down again, he used the weapon as a sort of cane, slowly staggering across the red scene. His breathing was slow and strained and he watched as it materialized in the air before him, resembling smoke due to the bitter and freezing cold that occupied the area.
It wasn't long until he could move no farther, but he cared not. He had arrived at his destination. Carefully bending at the waist, his trembling arm reached down into the crimson snow and wrapped around a small, glistening object, carefully taking it into his shaking grasp. It, like the sky, also contradicted the scene in which he stood with its radiant blue hue. The swordsman couldn't help but notice how a strength sense of warmth flooded through his veins as he held onto it, the only material token of love that he had ever received.
Yukina. His rough expression softened as his thoughts drifted to his sister. Though it was accompanied by the ever present feeling of sorrow, he couldn't help but also feel a strange sensation of satisfaction. His secret was safe, and as far as she was aware her brother had died long ago. She could hope and dream as to what he was like, envision him as a knight in shining armor or a noble hero that she could actually be proud of. It was far better than her ever learning the truth, that her long lost twin was actually a cold blooded murderer who roamed the deepest pits of the Demon World leaving only death and fire in his wake.
And she was safe, most importantly of all. He had left her in the care of the oaf, though at first he was certainly hesitant to do so. Though he bore an intense hatred for Kuwabara, he would not deny that, surprisingly, the buffoon was probably the one with a sense of honor closest to his own. In fact, now that he took a moment to think upon it, he noted that the other's code would be better than his in regards to his sister's lifestyle. The fire demon's tenants were selfish, dictating only Hiei's actions and leaving little room for others to enter his bizarre lifestyle. Kuwabara, however, sported more of a "chivalrous" code, one which would mandate that the oaf treat Yukina with utmost respect and love.
"Hn." He snorted aloud, his gaze going up to the sky once more as a weak blanket of white descended upon him, the soft snowfall managing to cover up some of the blood soaked scene. Perhaps he was giving the moron too much credit. A small tinge of fear suddenly gripped at him, but he quickly dismissed it. It was out of his hands at this point, and would soon be beyond his concern altogether. Though he hated to admit to ever doing something so foolish, he mused that he would have to "hope".
He resisted the urge to vomit, not desiring to taste his lunch as well as the coppery liquid that already drenched his tongue. Hoping was for the weak and unable, the cowards and the inapt, those who did not possess the fortitude necessary to see to it themselves that their desires were fulfilled. Considering himself a member of that lot was something that made Hiei sick to his stomach, drawing a shiver from him. No, he would not hope. He knew. For all his faults, Kuwabara was a warrior. A tribute to his backwards and pathetic species. Were there more like him and the detective….
His trademark smirk returned as he thought of the Spirit Detective. How would he react to the news of his death? The fire demon knew that his first reaction would be to personally beat the living hell out of those responsible, but his killers were already dead. His smirk widened slightly in pride as he remembered that, his fangs protruding a tad from the corners of his mouth. If he was going down, he would take his foes with him. And he did.
"Not that they were even worth my time. The cowards only outnumbered me by fifty." He scoffed in his head, his mind drifting back to Yusuke Urameshi and their time together. There was a fighter that he would have no qualms about being killed by, though he had always planned on it being the other way around. It was irrelevant now, Hiei realized with a touch of regret. Their rematch, which both had eagerly been anticipating, would never come now. The swordsman had to question himself, however, as to whether or not he could actually kill the detective.
A stupid question, he realized. If someone was enough of a fool to challenge him then he was doing the world a favor by reducing the number of mindless thralls out there. But, stupid though the question may be, it echoed through Hiei's head once again. Could he have killed the detective?
Yes. He could. If it breathed, it had the ability to die, meaning that Hiei had the ability to kill it. But Yusuke was a special case. He, the oaf, Kurama… they were each soldiers by whom Hiei could stomach fighting. Those kind of warriors, those who possessed even a meager amount of honor, were few in number in this corrupt and black world. To kill one of the few who actually deserved life… Hiei considered that to be a grievous crime.
Hiei found himself sitting on a large stone, his eyes beginning to droop and the thick blanket of oblivion beginning to cover him. His blade was now held over his shoulder in a relaxed fashion, his body slightly hunched forward and his breathing becoming slower and slower with each passing moment. Let Death come. He feared nothing, Death the least of all. He smirked once more as his thoughts drifted again…
Back to the night when he had kissed Death.
"Onna…" He murmured softly, his smirk now replaced by a soft smile as he called her by his pet name for her. He remembered that night perfectly, down to the very last detail. Her violet irises gazing straight into the core of him and piercing his soul, her blue tendrils falling all about him as his powerful arms held her tightly against him, their naked bodies merging together and creating a warmth that managed to fight off the chill of the evening and shield them from anything outside of Hiei's bed chamber.
And he remembered the next morning as well. As soon as the sun of the Demon World touched the horizon and began to climb, Hiei had vanished.
She had looked for him, of course. Frantically, at that. She cried the day away, the ground beneath her feet, no matter where she treaded, becoming soaked with her tears. She had called out that she loved him, that there was no reason to run, that he would always be safe with her. That he could leave the killing, the hate, and the blood behind him.
How naive.
You cannot stop a demon from killing anymore than you can stop the sun from setting. He had not left for selfish reasons, as he was sure she must believe. Every decision he made, he made for her. Were he to stay, her years would have become full of pain and anguish, her very existence threatened by the countless foes who eagerly awaited the fire demon's demise. He would not be responsible for bringing an angel into the affairs of demons.
An angel is an angel. A demon is a demon. The two should not be anywhere near each other in the first place.
He would stop by, often. He would perch himself upon a nearby tree branch or rooftop and watch her, keeping tabs on her and making sure that she was getting along happily despite him abandoning her. Sometimes he would leave small treasures for her to find, just to catch a glimpse of her smile as she
discovered the items and showed the others. When she was happy, so was he. And at night, when she sat in her room and cried, so did he. Minus the tears. He had not spilled a tear in his life and he would not give God the satisfaction of seeing him do it now. He had found himself outside of her window often, his body screaming to open it and leap into her room, to take her into his arms and stay there forever.
But this was the way it was. He was not a devoted and caring lover. He would not have been a supportive husband. And he would certainly not have been an acceptable fatherly figure. He had never even met his, how would he have ever managed to pull off raising offspring of his own?
He felt his breathing slow once more, probably the final switch before his tormented soul would depart for the next world. Frowning slightly, he issued a long sigh from his chapped and dry lips, using his remaining strength to lift himself from the boulder on which he had been perched.
This was it. The end. The finale of his tale. The conclusion of his story.
His would not end like all the others.
No. He would go his own way. With his own style.
Cringing as he focused on keeping his balance, he kneeled slightly, reaching down to a corpse laying at his feet and drawing two short blades from the demon's belt. As he straightened himself out once more, he could hear the fallen beginning to speak to him and cry out within his mind. His jagan eye, no longer possessing its omnipotent aura, moved about, allowing Hiei to see the souls of those speaking to him.
"Welcome, brother." They wailed, some in pain and some in laughter, "We've been waiting…."
"Then wait longer." The swordsman spat hoarsely, his voice no longer the smooth tenor that it was but a rough and cracked bass, blood dripping from his mouth as he spoke. Gritting his teeth, he impaled both of his feet upon the two short swords that he had retrieved from the corpse, giving a groan of agony as he pushed the weapons downward until their hilts touched the tops of his feet.
The world was beginning to turn blurry, everything about him becoming fuzzy around the edges. Using all of his strength that remained, he raised his blood stained katana high, giving a roar so fierce and wild that it would frighten even the most ferocious of lions back into its den.
Most embraced their death laying on their backs like worms, writhing about in a pathetic scene before oblivion claimed them. He was no worm.
He would stand.
He lurched forward slightly, almost falling on his face as he impaled himself upon his blade, the sword ripping through his stomach and out his back, piercing through the rock on which he had been sitting and digging deep into it, becoming stuck within the very core of the boulder and propping the dying swordsman up upon his feet.
And yet, despite the excruciating pain that ripped through him, only a smirk graced Hiei's face, his arrogant, confident, and proud smirk that which he had worn into countless battles. It was only appropriate that he should wear it into his final dual as well.
Slowly his body began to droop.
His arms slackened and went loose.
His hands opened, his sister's radiant teargem, which continued to give off a majestic blue glow, remaining in his blood soaked hand thanks only to the chain wrapped around his fingers.
But if one were to watch the dying warrior, they would not notice these minor details. They would watch his face, and most importantly, his eyes.
Those raging crimson orbs, which had once been the color of the blood he had spilled and the flames in which he had been baptized, no longer retained their red color.
No. His irises were no longer red. No longer the red that he had seen all of his life. No longer the red that defined every moment of his existence, the blood, the death, the destruction, the vice, the villainy, the thievery, the lust, the hate, the pain, the sorrow, the anguish…
His irises were no longer red.
They were blue.
Soft, pure, and at peace.
His smirk was gone as well. In its place was a gentle smile, the first genuine expression of peace that he had ever made. His heart and soul, which had been at constant war for all of these years, finally laid down their swords and slept, savoring the final victory that they had managed to win only at the very end.
As his blue eyes, once blackened by all that had conspired to corrupt him throughout his life, began to lose their sight, his smile widened. He could see her, just barely, off in the distance, blasting towards him upon her oar as she soared down from the heavens, her blue hair billowing about behind her.
The only piece of heaven that Hiei had ever known in this world.
As his eyes closed for the final time, his thoughts drifted once again. The faces of all he had killed, all he had fought for, all he had fought beside, and all he had loved flashed through his mind. Had he the strength, he would have given a final smirk at the onna's timing, her trembling hand touching his cheek just as her image entered the montage.
He could hear her screaming his name, her tears splashing on his face as she held him tightly. His lips parted, a soft whisper managing to escape with his final breath as his head finally drooped.
Giving a loud wail, she clung to him tighter, her body shaking violently as she sobbed uncontrollably.
That had been the first time he had ever said her name.
"Botan."
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A/N: Done! Took a bit to write this puppy, I don't know why. I don't really even think it's that good. Hopefully you'll think otherwise?
With Love,
Me