Author's notes: Kurama makes a decision that sends both himself and Yusuke reeling. *spoilers for Chapter Black Saga

Sorry all, this ones definitely the darkest chapter I'll be writing for this series. Amanuma's fight was one of the darker ones in my mind, both due to Sensui's manipulations and the way Kurama acted in response. Even now, the death of a child is rarely shown in shows, and definitely not at the hand of a protagonist. Ever since then I've wanted to explore the weight of that decision and what it signified. I swear the rest won't be so depressing so bear with me!

xXx

A part of Yusuke never quite believed it. He's heard the stories of course… Not from Kurama, himself, not since that night on the hospital roof. He never talks about his past life in Makai and Yusuke kind of gets the feeling that he probably shouldn't pry. Besides, he's gleaned enough to get the gist… which is more than enough to make him think twice about ever crossing his teammate. And he kind of figures if that many demons whisper the name "Yoko Kurama" with that mix of reverence and fear, it's probably best not to find out the particulars.

Besides, it doesn't matter. Yusuke knows better than most what it means to be judged for past mistakes, and he refuses to do the same to others. Who the hell cares what you've done in the past, it's what you do next that matters. And that demon, the fearsome King of Thieves? That's not the Kurama he knows. He's seen glimpses of course, that ruthless pragmatism that holds nothing, not even the fox's own life sacred. But he's also seen Kurama extend mercy to his enemies, been at the receiving end of that mercy himself. (He knows that full well now. If he'd been foolish enough to challenge Kurama back when they were still enemies, he would have been eviscerated.) And it's hard sometimes to look at that warm smile, those patient eyes, and remember that the demon standing before him was once feared throughout Makai. And while his brain can hold onto the stories, the hints at a darkness that Yusuke can't even imagine, he can't quite bring himself to believe them. It feels too far removed, tales of a demon that no longer exists.

It is in the cave, with the threat of Makai cascading into their peaceful lives like a tidal wave, that Yusuke finally believes the stories.

They don't seem so removed any more.

He watches Kurama, the same demon who bared his soul to an enemy rather than cut him down, tear apart the psyche of a child. And at first he wonders if Kurama gets just how twisted that is. After all, when you've lived for thousands of years, can you really distinguish the few measly ones that separate a boy, incapable of understanding the full consequences, from an enemy that must be cut down? Hell, from that point of view, Yusuke, himself, is an infant.

Except this is Kurama and he knows exactly what he's doing. When the redhead speaks up again, Yusuke can hear it, buried deep under that perfectly composed voice of his. There's a tangible pain in his voice as he speaks, carefully spelling out Sensui's tortuous plan to the boy. He can hear the disgust too, can hear the venom infused into Sensui's name as he connects the dots for the boy. It's a brutal picture and it clearly rocks Amanuma to the core. It shakes Yusuke too; it's one thing to fight. It's another thing entirely when the other party isn't aware that he's fighting for his life.

"Sensui thinks he's beaten us. That we will be trapped here, until time runs out and the barrier is broken, rather than kill the boy," Genkai murmurs, and it makes perfect sense. After all, they're the good guys, and the good guys don't mow down 12-year olds… Right? Genkai seems to disagree, says there's no other choice, and Yusuke'd probably agree with her in any other case. If it had been anyone else up there on that podium, there would only be those two choices. But this is Kurama. He always has a way out. He's just teaching the kid a lesson.

Kurama's lessons can come at a price—Yusuke has enough experience sparring against him to know that—but Kurama never crosses that line. He knows exactly how long to hold your hand to the fire, never long enough to burn, but long enough so that you think twice about reaching for it again. He'll find a way to break out of this, because he's their strategist, their ace in the hole, and because he's facing off with a damned kid, and Yusuke knows that he won't let the boy pay the ultimate price just for being lonely enough to fall prey to Sensui's schemes. Kurama would find a way.

But the minutes tick cruelly away and the winds have shifted. Yusuke can see the boy trembling, hand gripping the joystick in desperation, knuckles shining white like bone. Amanuma's already lost the mental battle and he knows it. There's no coming back from this, no way to focus on the game—even when it's the only thing that can save his life. Another three rows are piled up, and Kurama's cleared most of his screen. And it's clear to everyone who's going to win, none more so than Amanuma. The boy's arrogant smile is gone now. He's pleading, actually crying to Kurama to spare his life, and Yusuke feels the bile rise in his throat. Yusuke wants to throw in the towel, because how could they live with this kind of victory? There's always another round, there's more time to figure out the loophole in the system. There's always a loophole. Kurama had been the one to tell him that. They just haven't found it yet-

The buzzer echoes through the utterly silent room, so cartoonishly gaudy that it is hard to believe it's Amanuma's death knell. Yusuke hears the body fall, head cracking against the stone of the cave with a sickeningly hollow thud. But he doesn't look , can't look at the body. His eyes are locked on Kurama's form. Yusuke watches as Kurama's hands lower slowly, purposefully, before coming to rest at his sides. He doesn't turn back to face the group, which is probably good, because Yusuke doesn't know what he's supposed to do now. He doesn't want to blame Kurama, logically; he knows that his friend had no choice. One child versus the safety of the human world? What else was Kurama supposed to do? It was the rational choice, the necessary choice… but not the human choice.

It's there, in that cave that it finally sinks in. All the whispers, all the stories, hell even seeing the fox in his former glory, nothing hit so close to home as this moment. No matter what Kurama is now, how hard he's worked to put his past life behind him, the fact remains—he is a demon, and the centuries of cruelty, of ruthlessness do not wash away so easily.

It's still silent. Even in his corner, Hiei has sat up, eyeing the redhead, waiting for him to act. But he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't look at the results of his victory. Yusuke doesn't either. He takes a few tentative steps towards the fox, the one that he so arrogantly assumed he'd known just a few minutes earlier. A few more steps and Yusuke's at his side and now that he's there, realizing that he had no idea what to do next. All the platitudes sound so cheap and Yusuke's pretty sure he doesn't have the conviction to make them convincing: You had to act… Nothing else to be done…

And so he does the only thing he can think of. "Hey, Kurama?" There's no response, Kurama just stares at the ground, his face hidden under a curtain of hair and Yusuke is almost certain that he can see Kurama's hands shake. He clears his throat and steps closer. "Hey, man… are you okay?"

Kurama doesn't reply, but he looks up and Yusuke catches sight of what Kurama was trying so desperately to hide. He'd never seen such rage on that face, never seen those green eyes darkened by such hatred. Yusuke steps back, ashamed for intruding and, yes, a little afraid. Kurama doesn't spare him another glance, his fingers curling into fists as he starts off.

"We don't have much time," he says in clipped tones that Yusuke doesn't recognize. No one dares to speak, they just follow him into the darkness, finally leaving that damned room behind them.

Except they don't. Yusuke's pretty sure they never will, because there are just certain things that will never leave you, that you can't forget. And he feels sick at the thought, because he can't look at Kurama without seeing the kid they left to rot, his game still beside him. But he can't seem to avoid looking at him either. Kurama is still silent, eyes glittering in the dim light, a muted fury simmering just under the surface. And it's not just about Amanuma, Yusuke realizes that suddenly.

There had been no loophole, no way out of this without doing the unthinkable. If they didn't act, their families, their friends, likely even they themselves would have been killed by the demons that poured through. But even knowing that, even knowing the consequences of failure, Yusuke still isn't sure if he could have made that kind of choice, wasn't sure if he could live with himself in the aftermath. And Kurama knows that, he has seen just as many of Yusuke's struggles, must have gleaned how Yusuke views the world. And rather than force Yusuke to make a decision, Kurama simply made the decision for him. And looking at him now, it's obvious that he hates that decision. And he hates Sensui for forcing the burden on him, and he hates Amanuma for being so naïve… but most of all, he hates himself for seeing it through. He hates how easily he had carried it out—how simple it had been to take the life. He hates himself for proving Sensui right in his assertion that even "good men" were capable of unspeakable actions.

Because the real battle had been between Sensui and Kurama, Yusuke realizes suddenly. He had wanted to prove that there is no "better nature." That no morals were completely sacred… and he had. No matter what happens next, Kurama lost today. And Yusuke wants to comfort him, but he doesn't know what to say to this Kurama, this stranger walking beside him.

And now Yusuke finally knows why he was so feared in Makai, and why he didn't want to talk about it. And Yusuke finally believes the stories.

…He just wishes he didn't…