Notes: I'm gearing up for NaNoWriMo, but did this piece for a writing workshop and wanted to share. It's my first time writing a gender-neutral character, so constructive criticism is appreciated! I do not own, in any way, the characters, places, or ideas of the Yu Yu Hakusho universe created by Yoshihiro Togashi. I only own my own characters and plot. No profit, monetary or otherwise, is made off of this story.
Tags/Content Warnings: Death, emotionally repressed, brief explicit language, melancholy, introspection, emotionally heavy, cold, winter
The Island
Eyes, haunted by what they'd done, glowed in his memory. He could see the demon in his mind's eye, not budging as they accepted Hiei's final blow. His sword pierced through their flesh time and time again as the death replayed in his memory.
Sucking down a gulp of icy air, he refocused on the island just off the shore. The island with boulders littered around it and peeking out of the crashing waves. Trees crowded the island, as if they were desperately trying not to also fall into the sea. Waves lapped at the island frantically as the winter air whipped around him. His hair was caught in the wind, and he blinked it from his eyes.
He would not think of the demon. The way their shoulders sagged - from relief or the futility of fighting back - he'd never be sure. The way their lips parted in their last exhale. The way they grasped Hiei's shoulder with failing strength and whispered a guttural, "thank you."
The pressure of their hand ghosted on Hiei's shoulder, even now hours past the event. Their blood was caked on Hiei's black cloak, and he could feel it on him like a uniform.
Another death by his sword wouldn't have bothered him before he knew the Detective, or before Yukina had come to him to tell him she knew everything, or before Kuwabara had asked him to be his "best man" or whatever it was, along with the others. It wouldn't have phased him before, but for better or worse, it did.
"I thought I might find you here," Kurama's smooth voice didn't bother to raise in volume to be heard over the gale, but Hiei heard him just fine anyway.
He didn't bother answering Kurama, barely sparing him a glance over his shoulder. Instead, Hiei stepped forward as he tugged off his cloak, his boots crunching over the thousands of pebbles littering the shoreline. As he pushed the fabric beneath the surface of the waves, Kurama continued, "You don't need to hide from her, you know."
"You just have everything figured out," Hiei shot back, his fingers working the dried blood out of the fabric. Even by his standards, the water was frigid, but it was barely an annoyance.
Kurama didn't say a word, but he shifted to cross his arms. You don't need to hide from her, as if he didn't already know. Of course not. Hiding from Yukina was ridiculous, even if she was far too observant for his liking.
Their conversation hadn't been recent, but it was still fresh in his memory. "I think I have more of our father in me than I originally thought," she'd confessed one night when they both found themselves awake and congregating on Genkai's porch. She'd been picking at a loose thread at the hem of her sleeve and avoiding his gaze, like she was nervous telling him such a thing. "Sometimes I just feel so angry. Like the entire world could burn and I would not care."
When he'd been silent, she'd asked, "Do you ever feel that way?"
He'd admitted at the time that yes, he'd spent most of his adolescence that way.
What he didn't admit was how much he thought their mother lingered in him. Her weakness - her care and concern for others. It was her downfall, and it would be his, too, if he let it consume him.
The wind shifted and Kurama's scent - the scent of dying leaves and the smoke of autumn - reached him.
"You're still here?" Hiei pulled his cloak from the water. The blood had been washed out, so he pulled it back on, letting his energy rise to dry it faster.
"Will you be okay?" Kurama asked, a hesitation in his voice. His words were soft: that same concern laced in them. A concern for Hiei's mental state and how he just took off after their last mission. The fox had expressed his worries in similar ways over the years, and each time Hiei told him all but to fuck off.
Hiei adjusted his cloak around his shoulders, tugging at the fabric to get it to lay right. He watched the island across the waves and heaved another breath. The demon in his memory collapsed lifeless to the ground as the wind burned at his eyes, stinging them until they blurred.
He forced the weakness down. Buried it. Stilled his mind and forced himself to burn the memory to ash. Focused on the island. The island with the thousand trees and boulders, all trying to escape the sea.
He'd need to find a new hiding place next time. Someplace Kurama couldn't follow.