Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho is copyrighted and belongs to its creator, Togashi Yoshihiro.
Author's Note: Okay, I have something important to say, and it concerns Yusuke and Kurama…
I know that I have it where the two had done something terrible in their past lives (well, Yusuke's anyway), but like all people, we learn from our mistakes (Yusuke's past self had feelings for Kaguya, and being that he was a demon… Back then, demons behaved and regarded circumstances much differently than they do now). What I am trying to say is, is that Yusuke and Kurama are by NO means evil. No. They are not evil, in fact, they are THE GOOD GUYS in this story. However, this story is NOT about them...much. *shifts eyes*
Genre: Supernatural, fantasy, humor, horror, and not so much general. It is also an AU, an "alternate Universe" for the setting.
Rating: Mature…for obvious reasons.
IN NOCTEM
"Carry my soul into the night
May the stars guide my way.
I glory in the sight
As darkness takes the day..."
-Lyrics by Nicholas Hooper
oOo
"It's about time you've awakened." Came Reficul's voice, a low gruff tone mingled with concern and irritation.
But the demon was nowhere in sight.
Had it all been just a dream?
"No, it couldn't have been... It was all too real."
That or he was actually going crazy; his mind slipping from him faster than he could manage to grab a hold.
The psychic looked around himself, discovering that the room was now in an utter mess; a total quagmire, as though someone had opened The Pandora's box by just a hair.
The room was littered with deep slashes; walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, with deep gashes that appeared to be claw marks. And bombarded with handprints, indubitably singed by a source of excessive heat. Truly an alarming sight to behold, eliciting absolute horror and dread. It was as though someone or something was trying to tear the very walls around him down, if not burn the place to a cinder.
Not only did the walls have slashes and burns, but his stuff had been moved about, scattered all over the room. His dresser was face down, lying upon the floor, with all of the drawers removed, thrown against the walls, and broken with their contents spilled. And the pictures upon the walls, old traditional scroll paintings, had been ripped and torn down.
It was as though a ghastly, savage animal, one from another realm, had went rampant.
All the more disturbing, was that even his coverlet had been damaged; frayed and lacerated into millions of pieces.
Of course this terrified him, only a fool would overlook this; but he was rather plucky, for nerves of steal he did have, never the type to tremble in his boots or quiver in the knees.
[He was more of a screamer, and more likely to have a spaz-attack. He was a loud, noisy fellow, naturally… Though he had quieted down quite a bit over the years. He wasn't as bad as he used to be, which was quite an improvement from his point of view.]
Nowadays, he was usually he was a light sleeper. His senses ever on a constant alert, but this he had missed. He must have been dead to the world.
Upon moving, he winced, quickly realizing that his back throbbing like hell once he had regained his resolve. Both sore and itchy, it felt inflamed and irritated.
But that wasn't the only matter that was bothering him, because apparently he now also possessed some sort of skin ailment. All over his body, particularly in certain spots, were burning feverishly; his blood had surfaced to the skin, in light red patches that covered these exact locations.
[He was more than glad that it had been all a dream, for if he had sprouted eyes... He would be the Shrimp's twin.]
Furthermore, to make matters all the more uncomfortable, both his veins and nerves were rolling and ticking like crazy; as though his body had drunken in the madness brought onto him by that unsettling dream.
He figured that these conditions were simply neurological, nothing more.
With a little bit of mind power or concentration, the pain in his body began to subside, and so did the rest of the bizarre symptoms. His body recovered completely in nothing flat.
Thinking back, at the end of nightly fright, he recalled the voice of a woman…
Her voice held such great care, but also enriched with trepidation, and carried a profound sense of woe; like the deafening sound of a mother's scream, when she took word of the passing of her babe… She called out a name, a name that wasn't his own, but seemed as though it had been or should have. He couldn't place it, but he felt as though he had known her.
Nevertheless, he wondered who this "Erik" was.
That's when The Count occurred to him, the enigmatic gentleman who seemed to be the proprietor of that ghastly city he had come to call "home".
Yes, you heard right. The stranger who possessed power over the mayor was a Count, though people referred to him as being a Prince. From the grape vine, he heard word that the man was one hell of a natty-daddy dresser; he wore a snazzy suit, a top hat, carried a cane, and sometimes even wore a cape. The style of his attire was consistently Victorian.
"Erickson" He muttered to himself soon afterward, unable to keep the word from his lips…
That was The Count's surname.
Sure it sounded odd to use only the first two syllables, but not for Kazuma. Many people, namely in his earlier days, referring to him by the "Kuwa" moniker rather than to address him properly as one ought.
Obviously, the man was not from here. He was not of this country.
But how does a foreigner go about laying claims to another part of the world?
And most importantly… Why was HE here?
Kazuma didn't know much about him, nor had he ever met him personally.
The psychic had reckoned that the woman was a ghost, but phantom or not, you would think she could tell who was who. Certainly, she should be able to tell the Count and him apart.
There was more questions than answers.
But he knew that he must set all these matters aside for now, that he must clear his mind, and be as The Void… For this was not the way of the warrior, the way of a true samurai.
"Do not go after the fly, let the fly come to you" his master had taught him.
For far too long, he had allowed his mind to be contaminated by self doubts and fears. If he was going to be a warrior, he must live as a warrior.
The way of the Warrior, as well as the meaning of a "True strategist" is that of somebody who has made mastery of many art forms away from that of the sword… Which is why he must learn all that he can and never, never cease in acquiring more knowledge and skill.
"A warrior must find his opponent's weakness…and make him suffer for it. To take his strength and use it against him. Make him beg for mercy. Once he is incapacitated, either he forfeits or you dispose of him... In other words, the enemy must fall."
He must therefore be rid of these toxic thoughts, before they manage to poison him… Because this was his ultimate weakness.
He must empty his mind, but never forget what he has learned. By doing this, the better he can best his enemies.
After rolling out of bed, he shuffled through the cluttered floor, and head onward towards the window.
The head of his bed lied in the north, the door in the east, the dresser to the south, and the window to the west.
A warm orange contrasted against blue shadows of the room, stretching outward upon the wooden planks of the floor…
The sun was drifting away from sight, sinking under the horizon. The brightest of stars twinkled like diamonds...
[The stars were so beautiful, so dazzling and inviting. If only he could fly, he would at last experience what it feels to be free.]
Well, looks as though he had a day-mare instead.
He wondered where Ref was...
His psychic senses, which have progressed amazingly over the night, automatically provided the answer for him...
His friend was prowling the grounds around the temple.
oOoOo
Someone, from beyond the horizon, had placed an invisible eye upon his beau.
And it wasn't just the psychic's father; the man always kept ever constant eye upon his offspring, even though he is never physically present.
Sam was ever vigilant over Seth, "The Appointed One" and better known as "The Renowned Deity of Evil and The Night"...
...Watching the lad from his thrown in The Underground.
But no.
No, this was someone else, someone different.
The air that loomed in from the west was like a miasma of malicious intent, whether or not it could be helped. For what loomed beyond the trees were creatures of darkness, drawn in by the breaking of the second seal.
His mate was afraid of his own darkness, which was trying to heed him a fair warning. Ultimately, he was subconsciously afraid of himself and too oblivious to realize that.
This fear was as ridiculous as being terrified of one's own shadow.
Reficul didn't know what infuriated him more, being watched from afar or his mate's unyielding fear and insecurities.
The reason why the latter was so provoking to The Dark Prince, however…
Was that the psychic was attacking himself, without knowing it; putting himself in a rock and a hard place, for he was unimpeded and most likely to attack anyone and not at all be aware. And all because he was resisting, rather than accepting who he was. Worst of all, he had no control over it, his darkness, which made the circumstance all the more disastrous.
Ref knew he had his work cut out for him. Training Kazuma was going to prove to him, that it was going be a lot harder than he had originally thought it would be. In other words, this endeavor was not going to turn out to be a piece of cake.
Because if he could not control himself, how was he to rule and govern over creatures such as these?
...The demented, life sucking wraiths that loom outside this property's boundaries.
Not very likely, if he keeps on living in a state of self-denial like this.
Moreover, another adamant issue was unfolding; a nightmare in the eyes of his lover…
A vengeful spirit, merciless as the freezing rain. He was the dark embodiment of integrity, the relentless igniter of immortal fear. With a fire that rises behind those eyes, ever the sinful saint, to turn these streets of gold into a never ending black and the sky red. And he was to remain unseen, invisible to the world, to move as a shadow in the darkest night.
The Chosen One was salvation and retribution mutual: An ironic twist, when seen in the most fundamental view, that from the darkness itself would arise a purveyor of justice.
He was The Great Equalizer; The Undertaker presumed by mortals to be from Hell itself.
Sinister yet beautiful and enchanting; like the sound of a Gregorian choir tied with the haunting majesty of an organ. As chilling as a belfry, as the ministry tolls "Funeral March" for a dead man walking.
This was what his lover was reeling back from, ever apprehensive of taking his place as The God of Death; just as SHE had been when she came to realize who she truly was. Anxious to perch himself upon the walls of the worlds, to be ever watchful with an unwavering gaze, and to be The Most High Judge he was destined to become.
The Creeper, the hole-and-corner, the sub-rosa, the one who is incognito, the one whom creationists referred to as "The Cosmic Cheshire Cat"…
"The order of the world is always right - such is the judgment of God. For God has departed, but he has left his judgment behind, the way the Cheshire Cat left his grin." was the famous statement of Jean Baudrillard.
The Devil was characterized as The Jabberwocky; AKA The Boogieman: Who, by day, was a charismatic gentleman. Who, by night, is often depicted to be a ghastly, morbid, bloodcurdling psycho "clown"; the media traditionally degraded full on scary monsters by making them appear absurd.
God seemed to possess a personality of a cat, the mighty lion in rule, with the nature of a phoenix; burning away into oblivion, only to arise from the ashes once again.
Hilariously, The Devil was often symbolized by The Phoenix as well, and was either a dragon or seen as a ferocious lion.
Funny, God did the same exact thing, too.
People feared death, just as they were terrified of God. In truth, God was as much as a murderer, a complete monster, as He was the paramount of unconditional love.
Death was neither good or evil.
Life is death and death is life; a never ending cycle.
It was the snake that symbolized these cycles of life, love, sex, venom, and death. The Serpent was seen as a traitor of man, but it was the serpent who began life as we know it.
Death and The Devil were one in the same, as Creator and life were; they were two sides of the same coin.
God was a Phoenix, a Seraphim. God was also a feline, The Beast. God was also depicted as a lamb, which was also a ram; though originally it was a stag, the symbol of nature! God was a magician, an alchemist, and a witch; power rages through His fingertips. And God was of The Order of The Dragon, the side of which He was loyally on!
The Devil was a Seraphim, an angel with twelve wings; just as God was! The Devil was depicted as a man with the head of a ram; which symbolized the animalistic nature of all who exist. And magic, alchemy, and witchcraft were His tools.
Sammael meant "God's venom" or "The Venom of God".
And He was the Ruler of The Stars.
And it was The Stars that made everything possible.
God and The Devil were one and the same, not separate beings.
And this being was originally neither male or female, and yet, was either one or both by choice. Gender roles meant nothing, they were merely labels.
And most of all, which is the most significant, is that this being is never to be seen...
Only to be heard of and spoken of, but never before the eyes of man should this being give himself or herself away...
Because if man knew that this being was alive, they would surely try at nothing to kill him.
[Deep down in the recess of all hearts, man wanted to destroy God, just as they wanted The Devil to rue the day he was ever created. But no one created The Devil, nor had anyone created God... And They are the same person... The same went for The Anti-Savior and The Savior.]
Needless to say, people of this world are ridiculously ignorant, ruled by fear and misunderstanding…
Unfortunately, his lover had grown in this world. His mind had been brainwashed by the fiends in it, and for years they had fed him their rubbish.
Furthermore…
The light of his life was going to have to come to an eventual terms with a sensational need for blood…
Something that would indeed cause his mouth to water, driving him to sink his teeth into the hearts of many. He will not be able to contain the hunger within himself; if not controlled, he will be engulfed by sheer lunacy. And it was only in a matter of time, for the beast within will at last be unchained.
He was "damned" to be a beast on the hunt, because that is the method in which he will acquire to feed.
Therefore, he must hide from the day, so that no one can see him.
But in time, his lover would have to learn.
Kazuma had to, in order to fight and take back that which Reikai had taken from him.
This was a war, not "happy fun time". And Kazuma is to be one of the head leaders in this hard game of life; like a General of the Army, a "GA" role or "five star rank" in military operations.
[At present, Kazuma was more like a Major working his way up to becoming Colonel; a commissioned officer rather than a Flag Rank Officer. Reficul was The GA, as he had always been.]
He'll have to accept it, even if it meant the dark god had to enforce this upon him; he was not the lenient type, almost as much as he was a possessive and jealous person by nature. He'll hurt him for his own good, if he had to…
IF, provided, there was no other alternative.
He'll grab the man roughly by the shoulders, turn him around, and force him face his own reflection... So that he may at last see who he really is.
As of right now, Kazuma was his own worst enemy. And winning his complete trust, his faith, and his heart seemed to be the hardest challenge of all; he was half way there, but that was not enough for the dark deity, for he was still unsatisfied.
And needless to say, Reficul was not pleased in the slightest; like a mad black dog, the Hellhound Cerberus.
He wanted to hold him to the sun, wanted to be his faithful one, and show the beauty that his heart's desire doesn't know he even holds.
Truth be told, he was already beginning to lose his patience.
But would he give up? HELL. NO.
He'll play this game, until the very end of time if he must. His mate best buckle up real tight, for he was in for a ride of his life.
There was no place to run and no place to hide.
He will get the message across, one way or another.
[He will fight his lover's demons and his bloody wars. He'd give up everything for him... He'd give up his entire wealth and his kingdom to buy the man's soul, a soul that which he had never sold. He'd literally die for the man.]
After all, the foulest stench in all of the worlds...is "love".
If there was ever evil in the world, it went by this word.
Nothing else could be so perfect and so beautiful, yet so corrupt and painful.
...He looked forward to it.
oOo
"...Sing a song, a song of life
Made without regret
Tell the ones, the ones I loved
I never will forget
Never will forget."
…TBC…
Author's Comments:
I am thinking of making another part to this chapter. I am not sure. Perhaps not.
I'm sure you can pretty much piece what's in this chapter together.
Thanks goes out to KM17, for both reading and reviewing. Thank you! *hugs* And you are right, btw. Kazuma does have prophetic dreams.
Thank you for reading.
Please review!