Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of the YYH characters other than the OC, along with a couple more that would make an appearance soon. Any similar concepts, ideas, scenarios and such that you might find in this story amongst others would be pure coincidence (I have not had the proper time to read fanfics anymore nowadays).

With that said, enjoy :)


PROLOGUE

Part II


50 years ago. . .

THE air was coiled in tension, disguised under the night breeze that swirled and danced around the two lone figures left standing. It wasn't aimed towards the other, but the anvil of weight was shared on both their shoulders; pressing with thick melancholy and leaving a sweet taste of bitterness. It hung in the air despite the grunts and groans of dedicated pain that emitted from one of them. For her weight was heavier, complete with shackled betrayal and heartbreak.

She didn't know what to say. What else was there to say, when your loved one decided to turn his back against you? Against humanity?

Nothing.

So, she let the silence reign in its throne. She let Genkai grieve.

Hanging Neck Island became a subject of taboo without being declared. The name itself was acid, and she didn't dare recall their victory over a month ago. What became a memory of glory was now shunned, ruined after that swift turn of events—of utter helplessness and disbelief, of restrained yet uncontrolled fury and of shattered companionship. And she watched, with a scowl, as her loyal friend continue to train. Train during the day and train during the night. Driving her body to hell and back to perfect her techniques. When asked of her opinion, it was already denied of imperfection, but the psychic begged to differ—there was always room for improvement.

Still, the truth remains. Training gave the pinkette a distraction and an outlet to project all her burning emotions and passion. Training helps her blanket all the emotional agony and pain with a physical one. More than that, it was her purpose in the first place.

And she couldn't deny Genkai's purpose. A purpose that was once shared.

"How long do you plan on watching?" Tossed Genkai in mid-concentration, balancing a rapidly swirling ball of ki on the tip of a steady fingertip that hoists her perfectly upside down. A picture of perfect balance and poise without a single tremble visible on her stretched limb and taut body. With one arm tucked stiffly behind her back, only a small and—almost—unnoticeable sheen of sweat soaked the roots of cottony, pink hair by the crown of her head evidenced her effort.

But the collected stance Genkai held to perfection was cracked—blemished—when she glared at the ki swirling beneath her. That and the occasional pants only the keenest of ears could hear.

Lan knew Genkai was glaring at her thoughts, not at her ki. Thoughts that had grilled the pinkette enough to be, for what Lan believed to be the first time, confused. A tumble that shook the psychic's unwavering confidence.

Situating herself on the veranda, Lan traced each speck of white-blue lines visible on the darker, bubbling, blue ball of energy with sharp eyes. She watched as it wavered ever so slightly; a moment of sloping deflation. A hint of frustration. The temptation to point it out pulled her tongue, aware that her observation would either receive an irked glare or as an encouragement to further polish her moves. Genkai had always accepted her extraordinary senses with a shade of agitation.

With sympathy and empathy cohering within her (an aspect she could never have thought she was capable of), Lan finally had enough, frowning when the ball of energy wavered again. This time practically visible on the naked eye.

"Until you stop your foolishness." Was her retort.

She received no answer, and that was expected. For a split second, doubt halted her determination to finally end the sulking of her friend. For how could someone—demon, human or otherwise—had any say upon ending their grip of desolation? Had any word upon how it should be done? Yet, seeing the normally collected psychic stumble on her words from time to time, wither in patience even in the smallest of matters, and suddenly wrap snark within her words urged Lan to do something. Once and for all.

And she couldn't bear the startling pain that came with her friend's struggle. Lan was affected—damn it, she was too oh so very much!—but she knew it doubled, then tripled, then multiplied into a depth of unknown for Genkai.

And so she tried again. "Genkai, Toguro—"

"Don't you dare mention his name!" The ball wobbled and inflated before it finally burst under the psychic's fingertip with a loud pop. Genkai flipped back on her toes, furiously tossing her plait of rich, pink hair over her shoulders. Lan rarely sees it unbraided nowadays, and that was before all of this. Before, the wavy locks would drape comfortably down to the petite woman's spine, bouncing with every daring movement and attracting anyone with its bizarre color.

They had attracted a lot of attention. Still do. Neither cared.

Lan stood, striding towards the knotted woman with uncertain granite hidden beneath her own glare, albeit lacking the fury that was heated in the psychic. Genkai stopped her just as she reached halfway with a raise of her hand, showing her palm to halt the demoness' approach.

"Stop." She spat. "I don't care anymore. His decision is none of my business." Her chin dipped in all her stubbornness, ignoring the lie laced beneath her tongue, obvious to both Lan and herself.

One eyebrow arched at her words. "You say that in denial, Genkai."

"And what do you know?!" Genkai was raging, staring at the taller woman with a gaze of melting brown fury, a thick layer of resentment and snake dripping from her words. She was brimming as a dam broke, and Lan froze as the water flood. "You're a demon just like he is now! You know no emotions nor anything with how you were so lovingly brought up!"

The words cut through like an eager knife, and no sooner did the words fell did Genkai realized the gravity behind it. Her throat constricted. Her own body warning her of her own mistake. And Genkai swallowed too late, eyes widening at the venomous words she uttered. Horrified.

That knife twisted something somewhere within Lan. A scar that she knew would be carried unhealed for the remainder of her existence. Another that she deserved anyway.

What was once a weapon, now rusted.

Genkai and her met months ago, just shy of her new-found freedom. Her quaint dojo for human psychics drew a lot of interests like moths to a flame. After all, her name along with Toguro's was a trophy with their strength. Lan never meant to seek for anything. She was only seeing the world for the first time, a weapon turned into a naïveté. Genkai knew, she knew her in a span of months. A friend she never expected.

Toguro and Genkai had welcomed her, despite repressed insecurities.

Yet her words now felt scalding. Dismissive.

And so utterly, blatantly true.

"Lan," Genkai started, fingers reaching out towards her, wishing the demoness wasn't without layers. So patently honest and open with how her words wounded the latter. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry." Her face fell along with her glare, shame and regret washing away her anger. Ashamed with how she handled her anger on a friend. The only one left.

Lan shook her head, waving the apologies away. What good would they do? It cannot change her. So instead, she said, "Apologies never hide the truth."

This time, it was the psychic who looked wounded.

"I just need you to stop." Lan buried the sting so quickly that it made the guilt eat the pinkette more. It didn't stop the confusion to wash over Genkai, worry beginning to bubble its way to her throat.

Lan continued, this time confident that the shorter woman would not halt her approach until she placed a gentle grasp on the shorter woman's shoulder, urging the latter to hold their eye contact.

Inwardly knowing she was savoring this moment.

As a human, Genkai would age in a blink of an eye compared to her own lifespan. Genkai was already at her prime, one of the strongest Lan would say so with pride, and the latter was aware that a human in their prime could fade quicker than their ascend to their peak. Their flames of youth dwindling until it's a mere flicker. It was only justifiable that Lan treasured each second with Genkai that way. Because once upon a time, never did she sought for company, deeming it a luxury. A friend? That was a juvenile wish before. Yet here she was.

And she has to leave.

"Why?" Genkai's question was a whisper, wavering, heart clutched in desperation as she remembered Lan's words back from the day their friendship was but a bud yet to bloom.

"I'll have to leave, eventually."

Genkai didn't have the strength to cover the anguish on her face when Lan repeated her words from eight months ago.

"I'll have to leave eventually."

The breeze picked up from her words, blowing harder and harsher. It blew stray leaves from the ground, branches howled from the pulling of their own leaves. Her words drew a coil that began within the weather. It did within Genkai.

As the breeze teased their hair, Genkai stared, mesmerized as tendrils of her cherry blossom locks escaped from their bind. And she stared, in dread, as the reminder of why her friend has to leave as the wind tossed her pale, lilac hair into a frenzy. The breeze blew Lan's thick fringe, revealing a glimpse of her sealed mark on her forehead—a simple kanji of the number 'three' branded in red ink:

Then Genkai averted her gaze from the mark, almost abruptly. The deep and calm blue of Lan's eyes eased her after that chanced glimpse, trying in vain to ignore the burning reminder of who and what her friend was. Still is.

"Do you have to now?"

Frowning, Lan withdrew her hand, subconsciously raising it to her mussed fringe to tug the strands firmly over the mark. Hidden and ignored, but always creeping.

Lan took a step back. "I have overstayed my welcome enough."

Genkai's stomach churned, gazing at the taller woman who could not meet her eyes now. It was a long moment of silence, with Genkai unable to find the words to say. Her words abandoned her, escaping with the shaky exhale she breathed out. Words that held no bounds. She couldn't even try to change the demoness' decision no matter how much she wanted to rebuke the idea. But the want to argue was so strong that she nearly reminded Lan that the Prince of the Spirit World already knew of her existence . . . But not of who she was.

Lies. They had sewn lies, just for the demoness to accompany them in the Dark Tournament. Allowed her as part of their team. The psychic still felt the lingering guilt on having to lie to the Prince of the Spirit World—another friend, but she couldn't let Lan go. Not with a history the latter chose not to write.

Still, it was against Genkai's honor to disrespect another's decision. With Toguro, disgust was evident along with hurt and infinite disappointment. Years of companionship wasted, dreams filled with passion wasted. Accomplishments. . . Everything was wasted. All because she and Toguro had been so obscured by the hatred and pain brought by one demon. Brought by Kairen. Lan was there three months prior to the tournament when it happened, she knew the horror. But like Genkai and Toguro, she was mostly absent until the deed was over.

The massacre of their pupils.

Suffice to say, Toguro changed after that tragedy. Still, Genkai carried the weight of his decision with begrudging acceptance.

Yet, here she was desperately trying to string out reasons to dispute because she needed her friend at her vulnerable moment. She was weak and she hated it.

But she couldn't. Can't.

Because that was selfish. Because that was risky. Because Lan was involuntarily dangerous.

It was only at that moment did Genkai noticed Lan's attire. The same attire she wore when she stumbled into her—and Toguro's, but Genkai just wanted to erase his very name from her mind—territory, although unknowingly. Lan was Chinese in every way, from her origin up to her garment choices. If one would disregard the odd coloring of her hair and eyes, that is. Genkai remembered the same dull beige of her pants of which Toguro had caused a long tear from the thigh down to the knees when he delivered an unsuspecting kick to send the demoness tumbling over a river of rocks. But the garment was fixed now, courtesy of Genkai herself, with the material slightly loose to enable comfort and free movement done with a cinch by her ankles. Genkai remembered replacing the red tunic that Lan previously owned, the original having been shredded by the psychic's own onslaught of reigan. Admittedly enough, Genkai was at least glad the replacement was better suited for the tranquility that is Lan, with the shade of sapphire blue adding depth to her eyes. The garment was finished with white hemming (as the opposed to the original's bold gold), complete with high mandarin collar and knotted frog buttons lining down the middle then tucked beneath the pants with a thick, purplish sash—the only fabric unscathed—tight around her narrow waist.

Lost in the memories plaguing her eyes, Genkai reached out to caress the short sleeves of Lan's tunic, noting that the latter let her with an almost glassy look masking what little smile she had. How long has it been since the demoness corrected her in naming the tunic as tangzhuang?

The fact that Lan was wearing the same attire as the day she barged into Genkai's life extinguished the hope that her farewell wouldn't be now. Genkai was never one for sentiment, yet the staggering irony was blinding and squeezing.

Genkai knew, just refused to accept.

They met by fighting, one that ended with no victory. Lan was a foreign demoness unknowingly trespassing on private property and Genkai and Toguro—the one that used to be human—had acted on defense. Genkai clearly recalled with unwavering clarity on how the battle went. It was petty, she would always say; just a mere show of one party gracefully and wittingly swerving their offense as a form of defense whilst the other party was hurling said offense, confident at the obvious lack of demonic energy and blinded by the arrogance instilled by youth. They were unstoppable, were they not? A meager demon whose power is not even worthy of a class could not hinder them.

Clear underestimation on their part.

Lan had bested them. Not through sheer power, but through experience. Keen eyes predicted every move, agility and flexibility of no bounds slipped past their onslaught of attacks, and eased grace sought for their patience, for Lan had surrendered somewhere during the fight.

Only because Toguro had unknowingly snatched away the measly crimson cord around her neck tucked beneath her collar. A cord holding a lone ring—an unblemished, bronze-colored band. It was a moment of clarity for them, seeing the naked desperation and panic in those cerulean eyes coming from a pleading demon. Then they noticed just how one-sided the battle was. How glaringly unmarred Lan was aside from the damage to her clothing.

She didn't bleed. Only after some time passed did Genkai learned that she doesn't.

It took a while until both Genkai and Toguro believed Lan to be harmless, they could feel the strength just beneath her skin. An odd predicament really, since she emitted no demonic energy of the sort.

Then little by little, she unfolded. Little by little, both Genkai and Toguro learned who she was. Little by little, the duo had—for the first time—befriended a demon and became the bridge to the first human and demon relationships. Although Lan refrained from interacting with the psychics' pupils, content on being the mysterious stranger took in by their masters slithering by the shadows. Genkai and Toguro had politely abided to her wishes, even coming to an understanding of her reasonings as time flew by.

Gripped by nostalgia, Genkai even recalled the thick breastplate the demoness used to wear, made by heavy gold and carved with red ornate patterns, along with the equally golden arm guards studded with proud rubies. Her armor as a warrior. Genkai could even easily remember being fascinated by those ridiculously expensive armors before throwing it away to be replaced by a variety of simple qipaos offered by herself, and she remembered the sincere gratitude Lan had shown her afterward.

Genkai had rid of her garments that cloaked her to what she was made to be.

A silly thought, but it was reassuring at most.

"Why are you wearing that?" Genkai was at least eased to see she left out the arm guards and breastplate.

"I can't wear your gifts." Lan replied. No further explanation. She didn't need to.

It pained Genkai to know that she had been ready. But for some reason, it woke something within her. One that slowly began to drown away the sorrow, the hurt.

"You will wander." Genkai's shoulders sagged. Not in negativity, but with a resolute promise. To herself and to her friend, albeit unsaid.

"Yes." Lan nodded.

She had no place here in the first place. A slave would feel uncomfortable without their bars. Genkai had given effort to rid of those boundaries and lingering shadows plaguing her mind. A futile attempt that was appreciated, regardless.

But the psychic already read her thoughts. Lan lived for one reason now and one only, and it dawned on Genkai upon how much this means to the demoness, other than making sure of the pinkette's safety.

"You will look for her, wouldn't you." It wasn't a question. "To pay your debt."

Lan nodded, "That I will try. But I will not force it to happen." She paused. "Us together is too great a risk."

Closing her eyes, Genkai sighed. Her posture straightened, steadily meeting Lan's gaze after a moment passed. A clash of firm brown against oceanic blue.

"Then I will only warn you of one thing."

Intrigued, Lan shuffled closer, peering into those brown eyes that had once been warm. Strict, yet warm. Now it shone with the kind of fire that the Genkai she knew possess. Hardened and rekindled, flickering to shine brightly once more. That prompted a relieved smile behind her straight facade.

"And that is?" Lan cocked a brow when the psychic smirked.

"That I will not hesitate to hunt you down if you will not come back before my time to meet the grave."

As a human, her years would pass by in a blink of an eye to Lan. Genkai would age, while Lan will remain the same. She along with Toguro now would not age easily. It didn't surprise Lan to know that her friend had been thinking the same line of thought as she was.

But the deeper reason was that, Genkai could not ignore the stirring within her gut that her former ally would make an appearance in the future, and she will be ready for him. But she wanted her friend, her only friend now, to be there.

It was after a moment only did Lan returned the psychic's smirk.

"Alright."


:)

Thank you so much for the positive feedback! I appreciate them all and I'm glad to have captured some of your interest.

Next chapter shall finally begin in line with the original plot, of course, with changes here and there to put in Lan's own story. Some parts will include scenes from the series without Lan, so as to capture their side of the coin that is affected by her presence, whether it be minor or not. This story will be SLOW BURN. Focusing more on building friendships before the kindling romance will begin. In addition, Lan will not be depicted as an equivalent of 'backup' to Yusuke's shenanigans/assignments, unlike Kurama and Hiei (who were both initially sent as backups in the Saint Beasts Arc). She will help, but out of her own free will.

Chapter soundtrack: "Orange" by 7!