Disclaimer: If I owned anyone in Yu Yu Hakusho or the other anime characters in here, I would be turning this story into the actual plotline...not a fanfic. :D Ehe...ehehehe... ;;)
Summary: Youko Kurama managed to escape his imminent death. What if his best friend accomplished the same feat? Although Kuronue probably should have checked before he jumped into a baby girl's body. What will happen when their human counterparts meet? And what's Kagome got to do with this?
Author's Note: Hello! ;P I know, I know, I should be updating all my other stories, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and I just had to pour it out somewhere, okay? This chapter's actually a bit rushed—so many things trying to get themselves put into words that I'm not sure if the result is intelligible. I hope you'll let me know—this may be very confusing, but I'm hoping you'll give it a shot and wait for the succeeding chapter, where I'll iron out any questions you might have. Thank you for your time! ;P
Prologue
Freedom And A New Cage
The warm, heavy summer breeze stirred the lush green bamboo trees that surrounded the dilapidated shrine, almost completely obscuring it from view. The beaten path that had led up to it was now overgrown with weeds, practically swallowed up by the encroaching wilderness that had pushed humanity away with its harshness. No human had come to pay respects in over a century—those who lived closest the cruel mountain ranges were probably even unaware of the old shrine's existence.
How things had changed. Centuries before it had been a grand place—revered, adored, and fiercely protected. The priceless treasures it had held within were the stuff of legends, and all manner of folk—some more or less than human—had woven designs about them for ages. Some were graced with success, and many artifacts of great worth and power passed into the hands of others who put them to other (less than noble) uses.
Others, however, were not so fortunate.
Kuronue.
The sweet smell of decay hung in the air, the rotting wood and former finery gilded with the silvery moonlight. Beneath the shrine, the staircase leading down to the room long eaten away by the climate and insects, rusted metal chained a twisted, skeletal body to the slimy earthen wall.
Kuronue.
Maggots had consumed most of the flesh, time had turned the fine clothing into crumbling rags. In the full century since he had seen another person the creature had weakened considerably. Before, at least they had come to clean him up—clean up the mess he made—because when left alone the stench of his rotting body would choke even the most resilient of them. They had never possessed the power to kill him—at his prime, even amongst his kind he could name those who matched him.
But they did have the power to bind him—prolonging his agony beyond what even he could possibly bear. Ever since he had been captured, his existence had become a vicious cycle that had been drawn out by generations of fearful monks who did not understand the cruelty of their own actions.
The first of those generations had robbed him of his death. They had pulled out the spikes that had destroyed his body believing that he was in possession of the artifact that had been taken from the shrine but moments before. Sorely disappointed in their search, they had dragged him into the prison, where he would reside for several hundred years.
Of course, they had not intended for this to happen. They had attempted to torture him into letting slip the location of their hideout and then leave him to die—he was too strong a demon to be purified, and the most that all their spells and charms could do was bind him. They had broken his already damaged body until he had been convinced that he would die, but the worst of their ministrations only brought him to the edge—never over. He would always recover, his body healing and destroying all infections and (when the monks began thinking that worms could finish him off) intruders. Each time he would graze the edge of death only to be pulled back in frustrated anguish as his demon blood brought him back to his hell of a life.
But now something was happening.
Moisture pooled on the jagged tip of a broken beam, releasing its hold and dropping down onto a mushy brown substance that had once been paper.
Kuronue.
Another drop hit the paper, and within that instant a chunk of it slid off the thin metal it had clung to for centuries.
Kuronue, wake up! The seals—they're breaking!
The gaunt remains of a demon groaned, tattered wings twitching as the soft, soothing voice that had consoled him and given him strength for years before his incarceration came to him again. He could almost see the stone, almost feel its warmth against his cold, withered skin. The monks had taken it away from him when they had bound him, but he knew it was near. It was like an extension of his soul, and the loss of it throbbed like the gaping cavity in his chest.
But I'm so weak, he whispered back to his mother's voice. I haven't eaten in centuries. This body—the cracked leathery wings flapped fruitlessly—is useless. Once the seals break, perhaps I can finally die.
NO!
His mother's voice—angry and desperate—exploded in his ears more clearly than it ever had since her death. The demon jerked convulsively, thin skin peeling away to expose sunken eyes that mirrored the blackness around them.
"W—"
His throat tightened, the muscles having forgotten how to move in speech. The demon closed his eyes, gathering the fragmented parts of his being and centering them on finding his mother's voice.
What?
Even in his mind his voice was cracked and weary, but he was long past feeling any shame over it. Past feeling any shame in wanting the escape that death offered. It was so close.
You did not survive centuries of torment only to die like this, Kuronue. Death after so much suffering—after your body has fought so hard to live—is not what I want for you. When you have left this place you will realize that it is not what you want for yourself, either. For now, you have to trust me, my son. The seals are breaking, but if left to themselves it will take many more years for them to give way. You and I both know that you will not last much longer. You have to hasten the breaking, my son, so that you may leave this accursed place.
The muscles around the demon's mouth twisted it into a smirk. To what point, Mother? I've told you, this body is useless. Even if I were able to summon up enough spirit energy to break the seals, I'd die within days—I'm too weak.
He was met with silence. Despair crashed down on him with renewed force and some of the precious blood that remained in his body trickled out when he clenched his fists and his claws dug into his palms. He almost despised her—her love and her insistence grated on him now, when all he wanted to do was lay down and die. Why did she have to speak? Why did she have to ask pointless things of him? W—
There is a way to save you, Kuronue. A way to regain your strength.
His claws dug deeper into his palms.
What?
His mother's voice softened, lowered into a velvety caress that made him open his eyes in wonder as she whispered her next words.
Can't you smell it anymore, my son? There are humans nearby.
---
"Damn," Saki cursed softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She crawled away from the mess she made and back to her tent, where her husband lay snoring, ink blotches spattered endearingly over his nose. Zipping the tent shut, she crawled over him to her side of the tent and lay down, snuggling back into the still-warm groove she had made next to him.
Being pregnant sucked.
She was being honest with herself when she thought that, and though she would not give up a single night spent in Shigure's arms (When he makes it worth my while? I'm pregnant, not insane!), she was beginning to wish they'd been more careful. In the three reckless months they'd spent going around Europe for their honeymoon, she'd never thought that getting pregnant would prove less than convenient.
Until, of course, she'd come home and found a funding offer from Tokyo University that would take care of all her expenses. Her doctorate required a formal thesis, after all, and while she was more than capable of financing her own study, the offer of funding and all manner of support from the country's most prestigious university was enough to send her packing.
And so here she was, a good fifty miles from the nearest form of civilization, studying plants Shigure had come along to protect her—whether he was protecting her from a who or a what he left unanswered. Her crew was composed of mostly males, after all, and Shigure being Shigure, he expected of them only what he would expect of himself.
Which was, inadvertently, the worst.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried to get back to sleep. The air in the country was much clearer and she knew her health had to be improving despite the long hours she put into gathering data. It was still unbearably hot, however, and her condition wasn't helping. There was a bitter taste in her mouth and she felt too sticky for comfort, but the heat was weighing down on her eyelids and the moonlight that brought the surrounding countryside into sharp relief began to haze.
A wild dog howled in the distance and beside her Shigure shifted, his arm wrapping protectively around her. A familiar sensation began to build in her chest and she forced her eyes open as she peered out into the darkness through the flimsy tent screen.
There was nothing.
She reached out instinctively and zipped the flap over the screen shut, shielding herself from the scrutinizing darkness and whatever it was that would come with it.
---
Kuronue, what are you waiting for! Feed! She's right there! Alone and defenseless! Sink your teeth into her!
It wasn't his mother's voice he heard anymore, but his own. As he lay staring up at the small human woman who stood looking down at him, the demon instincts that had kept him alive for centuries screamed in his blood, making his muscles tighten in anticipation of the warm life that would soon be pouring down his throat, the sweet flesh that would be rolling over his tongue. He felt the instincts beginning to take over, knew his eyes were bleeding scarlet as the seconds ticked by and one of his claws began to inch towards her bare ankle.
Food.
Her dark, emotionless eyes regarded him without fear, and this was what gave him pause. Even when his fingers tightened around her ankle and his face twisted violently with hunger at her strong, delicious scent, she remained silent and unmoving, and her delicate face remained blank.
"You're dying," she said suddenly, as his claws began to cut into her flesh. Without sparing the punctured skin on her ankle a glance, she sank to her knees beside him, bringing that smell—all that achingly sweet flesh—maddeningly closer. Her eyes moved over his body and he watched in suspended, uncomprehending fascination as her small, tapered fingers traced edges of the gaping cavities in his mangled body.
Human.
"What are you?" she whispered, her eyes locking onto his once more.
His mouth opened but once more he was unable to force his voice out. When she wiped away the trickle of blood that slid from it he shuddered. A fraction of an inch closer and he would be able to taste her. A low, frustrated and guttural moan left grated against his throat and though her gaze sharpened her hand remained where it was.
"You're hungry, are you?" she asked softly, and for an instant her fathomless eyes filled with emotion—sadness, and sympathy. She cupped his cheek, the warmth of her hand seeping into skin so used to cold. The next instant her fingers were on his mouth and his eyes snapped open only to be trapped in her gaze once more.
What...?
"You're too weak to hurt me," the human woman murmured achingly, compassion brimming in her eyes. "You're dying and even if you were to tear a chunk out of me it wouldn't save you." Her other hand covered the claw still digging into her ankle and under her gentle grip it loosened. Ignoring the blood that oozed out as the claw was withdrawn, she cradled the hand with both of her own in her lap. "I can't save you."
A part of him wanted to laugh at her misplaced kindness, but when a drop of moisture slid from her chin onto his claw he flinched. When she spoke again, it was his mother he heard in the soft, flat voice.
"But I do want to save you."
His claw touched the soft mound of her belly as it twitched with her words, and upon touching it a thought came to his dying, desperate mind.
The woman's eyes widened as a rattling whisper filled the air between them and she stared down at the demon's now clear eyes.
"Perhaps you can."
She continued to stare, wide-eyed, as life left his clear, dark eyes. She would not understand what he meant until several months later, when she gave birth to a healthy baby girl.
Further Author's Notes: What do you think? Please leave a review! The button's right there: points diagonally : I really do appreciate feedback! ;P