Only a Heart can Break a Heart
Prologue
Kurama shifted around uncomfortably in the now tangled sheets of his bed, a cold sweat dripping from his forehead onto the crimson locks of hair scattered around his pillow. Tiny patches of sunlight filtered through the sakura tree at his window, giving him a soft, dimmed view of his room. Door closed, bureau littered with pictures of friends and his 'kasaan. His working desk cleared of papers from the previous night, and was now in the suitcase safely stowed by his chair.
The dream had come again. He couldn't really dub it a nightmare, even though it constantly left him in a state of fear and confusion. It was more what he interpreted the dream was about, not the dream itself. And since this dream had been reoccurring for the past week or so, the youko couldn't help but feel puzzled by it.
Turning around on his bed, he rested his head on his arm to watch the dust drifting in the morning sunlight. Kurama sighed, his bangs flying upwards and then fluttering back down to wipe at his brow almost soothingly. The clock on his night stand read only five o'clock in the morning, and his interview for that internship didn't begin for another three hours. His resume, newspaper classifieds were stored in his briefcase, and his clothes for today on the door of his closet. The dream came back to him again, as vivid and familiar as ever.
****
He was walking in the Makai, silver hair on his shoulders, tangled and gnarled. His breath was ragged, and his clothes were torn as if by a sword, but no blood showed on the cloth. Every breath he took was labored and barely the gasp of air his companion had mistaken it for. Pressing against a tree for support, he curled his battered tail about his legs, the mist of the forest dampening his skin. They had been traveling miles upon miles, and yet attacked by nothing more than a few forest demons and a rather territorial tsuki yasha.
Lips brushed against his own in a feathery kiss before wind replaced flesh, and his companion had gone in a rush of ebony. Perhaps to find a camping site, or possibly some edible vegetation. The breeze in the air continued to soothe his aching muscles, freeing him of the tension that had built up in his adrenaline rush.
Crossing his legs, he sat quiet and still in the darkness of the forest, awaiting the return of his comrade. But, as the refreshing feel of the moist air transformed into a bitter cold, and the five moons of the Makai shone bright in the sky. His ally had not yet returned, maybe he had become preoccupied with a youkai, and he would be back shortly? Whatever the case, none mattered too much for him, and by the time he had gone through all the possibilities, his eyes had closed and he was in a deep, renewing sleep.
When he awoke the next morning, he parted his lips to taste the morning air, but only to have a bitter, acidic taste fill his mouth. Blood. Quickly he sat up, glancing around him for some clue, some hint as to what had taken place at his bed. A black cloak pooled at his feet when he moved, coarse, yet a soft fabric, and he shuddered. His companion's cloak. Gathering the garment in his arms, he hastily stood, his now blood matted tresses frolicking in the breeze. When he rose, a glint of sunlight caught his eye, and he moved towards it, the glint becoming brighter with each step.
Reaching the glint, so that it almost blinded him, he saw that he was standing over in a little alcove in the hilly forest. Contained in the niche his raven haired supporter, fast asleep and breathing deeply. Smiling, he held out his hand to turn him over on his back, but was struck back by the vision before him. A message was tattooed on the neck of his friend, in faint, red writing. "You break the ones you touch."
****
He was the main character in the dream, and his comrade could have only been Hiei. But why was he covered in blood? Why did Hiei choose to sleep so far away from the youko, and in a hole in a hill besides? Why did Hiei give Kurama his cloak? Where did the blood come from? These questions had tugged at the ropes in the red heads mind for a good long time, until finally he figured that his subconscious was trying to tell him something, if only he knew. The dream left him in a constant state of panic when he awoke, and he didn't quite know why.
'Interesting, my dream reflects how we cooperate with one another.' He thought, reminiscing of how Hiei would do the simplest thing for him, then pretend it was day to day routine, and it should not come to anyone's attention. And he himself was always wondering about Hiei, even when he was only five minutes away.
Yes, it wasn't a nightmare, but that did not keep Kurama from contemplating its meaning. Pursing his lips together, he rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling, following the miniscule cracks in the plaster until they reached the wall. Slowly, but surely, as the sun rose higher into the sky, his eyes lidded, and Kurama's world once again became a black chasm.
Prologue
Kurama shifted around uncomfortably in the now tangled sheets of his bed, a cold sweat dripping from his forehead onto the crimson locks of hair scattered around his pillow. Tiny patches of sunlight filtered through the sakura tree at his window, giving him a soft, dimmed view of his room. Door closed, bureau littered with pictures of friends and his 'kasaan. His working desk cleared of papers from the previous night, and was now in the suitcase safely stowed by his chair.
The dream had come again. He couldn't really dub it a nightmare, even though it constantly left him in a state of fear and confusion. It was more what he interpreted the dream was about, not the dream itself. And since this dream had been reoccurring for the past week or so, the youko couldn't help but feel puzzled by it.
Turning around on his bed, he rested his head on his arm to watch the dust drifting in the morning sunlight. Kurama sighed, his bangs flying upwards and then fluttering back down to wipe at his brow almost soothingly. The clock on his night stand read only five o'clock in the morning, and his interview for that internship didn't begin for another three hours. His resume, newspaper classifieds were stored in his briefcase, and his clothes for today on the door of his closet. The dream came back to him again, as vivid and familiar as ever.
****
He was walking in the Makai, silver hair on his shoulders, tangled and gnarled. His breath was ragged, and his clothes were torn as if by a sword, but no blood showed on the cloth. Every breath he took was labored and barely the gasp of air his companion had mistaken it for. Pressing against a tree for support, he curled his battered tail about his legs, the mist of the forest dampening his skin. They had been traveling miles upon miles, and yet attacked by nothing more than a few forest demons and a rather territorial tsuki yasha.
Lips brushed against his own in a feathery kiss before wind replaced flesh, and his companion had gone in a rush of ebony. Perhaps to find a camping site, or possibly some edible vegetation. The breeze in the air continued to soothe his aching muscles, freeing him of the tension that had built up in his adrenaline rush.
Crossing his legs, he sat quiet and still in the darkness of the forest, awaiting the return of his comrade. But, as the refreshing feel of the moist air transformed into a bitter cold, and the five moons of the Makai shone bright in the sky. His ally had not yet returned, maybe he had become preoccupied with a youkai, and he would be back shortly? Whatever the case, none mattered too much for him, and by the time he had gone through all the possibilities, his eyes had closed and he was in a deep, renewing sleep.
When he awoke the next morning, he parted his lips to taste the morning air, but only to have a bitter, acidic taste fill his mouth. Blood. Quickly he sat up, glancing around him for some clue, some hint as to what had taken place at his bed. A black cloak pooled at his feet when he moved, coarse, yet a soft fabric, and he shuddered. His companion's cloak. Gathering the garment in his arms, he hastily stood, his now blood matted tresses frolicking in the breeze. When he rose, a glint of sunlight caught his eye, and he moved towards it, the glint becoming brighter with each step.
Reaching the glint, so that it almost blinded him, he saw that he was standing over in a little alcove in the hilly forest. Contained in the niche his raven haired supporter, fast asleep and breathing deeply. Smiling, he held out his hand to turn him over on his back, but was struck back by the vision before him. A message was tattooed on the neck of his friend, in faint, red writing. "You break the ones you touch."
****
He was the main character in the dream, and his comrade could have only been Hiei. But why was he covered in blood? Why did Hiei choose to sleep so far away from the youko, and in a hole in a hill besides? Why did Hiei give Kurama his cloak? Where did the blood come from? These questions had tugged at the ropes in the red heads mind for a good long time, until finally he figured that his subconscious was trying to tell him something, if only he knew. The dream left him in a constant state of panic when he awoke, and he didn't quite know why.
'Interesting, my dream reflects how we cooperate with one another.' He thought, reminiscing of how Hiei would do the simplest thing for him, then pretend it was day to day routine, and it should not come to anyone's attention. And he himself was always wondering about Hiei, even when he was only five minutes away.
Yes, it wasn't a nightmare, but that did not keep Kurama from contemplating its meaning. Pursing his lips together, he rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling, following the miniscule cracks in the plaster until they reached the wall. Slowly, but surely, as the sun rose higher into the sky, his eyes lidded, and Kurama's world once again became a black chasm.