Allurement
By QG
With a roar, the stadium erupted into raucous applause. With the last match of the Ankoku Bujutsukai semi-finals finished, the teams for the finals - only two days away - had been decided. Team Urameshi had concluded its set of matches some time before; this last round had decided its opponents. The fights had pitted Team Toguro against an all-demon team of young upstarts, Team Gorenja, in the semi-finals.
After the matches had ended, it was surprising to know that Team Gorenja had gone as far as the semi-finals. Despite only having three members present, Team Toguro had defeated its opponents effortlessly; the matches had been quick; the Toguro members had mercilessly dominated their opponents. Karasu, Bui, and the elder Toguro brother had utterly overwhelmed Team Gorenja; Toguro had taken on three opponents at once and still managed to kill them all without showing any signs of effort. The audience clearly favored the victors, supplying deafening cheers after each win, encouraging the fighters to be as ruthless as possible, captivated by the bloody and brutal methods used in each fight.
Though the rules of the tournament did not require the death of the opponent, not one of the Team Gorenja members had been spared. Karasu had used vicious explosions to literally disarm his opponent, Mido Renja, before mercilessly blowing the green-skinned demon's body apart. Bui had summoned an enormous axe to overpower the brute strength of Kirenja, shattering the latter's body with the inconceivable adroitness with which he wielded the axe. Toguro had delighted in toying with the last few fighters, forcing them to beg for their lives and stringing them along false hopes before slaughtering them brutally. Team Toguro was cruel, powerful, and sadistic.
And that had only been three of them.
Possibly the only member of the crowd who had *not* watched the matches with bloodlust-driven glee was Kurama, the graceful fox demon-turned-human of Team Urameshi. He had stood against a wall in the back, removed from the thick of the demon crowd - unlike what his team's female friends had done when they cheered Kurama and the others on during their matches - wanting as much as possible to avoid the rowdiness and distractions of the audience, not to mention the dangers; a good portion of the spectators had been vaporized by Mido Renja's attacks during Karasu's fight. No, Kurama had come to the matches to observe technique, not delight in the senseless destruction of life. Upon finishing their own matches, Genkai had advised Kurama and his friends to watch Toguro's last few fights, in order to better understand their opponents. It hadn't been necessary to tell Kurama this - he had already intended to observe the last round of the semi-finals - but perhaps it would have been more beneficial had *other* members of Team Urameshi attended.
Kurama was reprimanding himself for not forcing Hiei ("Who cares what the hag says? I have better things to do.") to come with him. Hiei's demon abilities would have made understanding Team Toguro's powers a whole lot easier. It was Karasu Kurama was having the most trouble with. Kurama had a guess as to his abilities; from the manner in which the fight with Mido Renja had progressed, it appeared that Karasu injected powerful, concentrated pockets of youki into a part of his opponent's body through touch, and, after a moment, those pockets would burst, causing an explosion. However, it was extremely difficult to tell, especially with the limitations Shuuichi's body placed on Kurama's powers of perception. If Hiei had come to the matches, he could have given Kurama a better insight into what exactly transpired during Karasu's fight.
'Then I wouldn't have to be so bothered by all this,' Kurama mused. For something about Karasu worried him. Kurama was very unsure of Karasu's capabilities, and it was unsettling, to say the least. Most of his other opponents had given away much of their abilities, if not the moment a fight began, then at least fairly soon into a battle. Certainly, the part human had been able to glean much by watching would-be opponents fight others. But Karasu was different. He kept his capabilities under a fine veil of mystery, tantalizing Kurama with a vague understanding of how exactly he managed to create explosions, yet obscuring the true and full comprehension of the logistics.
Also, there was something... else about Karasu that bothered Kurama. Watching Karasu's match, Kurama had felt something inside of him, a longing to fight the explosive fighter himself. Karasu's carefully calculated method of fighting was so very intriguing to Kurama: his fluid, graceful movements, his dominating power, his incredibly subtle actions and deadly fast reflexes. It wasn't an attraction, that much was certain - Karasu's senseless killing and sadistic enjoyment of the fighting were definite deterrents - but something about Karasu drew out an innate proclivity for fighting in Kurama, an insatiable lust for battle, for a worthy and challenging opponent - a remnant of Kurama's centuries as a demon. Kurama had experienced bare tastes of these feelings before - when swept up in the heat of a particularly difficult battle a glimmer of enjoyment had passed through him from time to time - but never had those feelings been so intense as they were now. He attributed this to his very recent experience in his demon form, his pugnacious desires strengthening with the brief restitution of his previous body.
In any case, Kurama was worried. Not only was Team Urameshi about to face some of the strongest opponents it had ever had - and it, in itself, was but a ragtag group of children who sometimes had to rely on pure luck to triumph - but Karasu was *already* beginning to affect Kurama himself. Fear began to blossom for his inability to understand Karasu's abilities - and therefore to have any good chance of winning should Karasu be his opponent in the finals - but also for his blind desire to do battle with the black- clad fighter. Irrational emotions often led to headstrong decisions - choices that could mean life or death in such a serious fight. At the moment, Kurama was being guided almost entirely by these irrational emotions - fear, desire - though he attempted to ground himself in reasoning and rational thought, and those would inevitably lead to terrible consequences.
The red-haired fighter sighed softly. This was all so difficult to sort out. He wished again for the presence of one of his friends - Hiei would have been the best candidate - merely for a person to talk to, to help Kurama through his muddled thoughts and feelings. Despite the fire-demon's antisocial tendencies, his quiet was welcome when Kurama wished to express doubts, worries, really, anything that was troubling him. Sometimes it helped to voice his thoughts, as a way of organizing them. At the same time, a simple, candid reflection from Hiei would have been extremely helpful. All it took was a callous, practical phrase to make the half-human realize if he were getting too bogged down in details and to let him see an easier solution to a difficult situation. Unfortunately for Kurama, he would have to wait until he could find Hiei - or *any* of his friends, for that matter - with enough time to let him speak his mind. With the finals being but two days away, that opportunity seemed unlikely.
Kurama sighed once more, straightening and moving away from the wall he had been leaning against. The stream of demon spectators leaving the stadium was thinning, and it was an opportune moment for him to slip out essentially unmolested. Kurama had wished to avoid the emotionally charged audience members who were the first to leave, still on a high from watching blood being spilt, but also to avoid the stragglers, the demons who might wait until there were fewer people around and take advantage of the chance to confront Kurama alone. Demons were especially cold toward Kurama for two reasons; while as a demon, Kurama had made quite a name for himself through his thievery, and with that, many enemies as well. However, what demons considered the more serious offense was that Kurama had relinquished his demon status - though not by choice - to live with humans, to live *as* a human. Humans were detestable creatures to demons - evident in their clear opposition to Team Urameshi in general - and anyone who sympathized with them was loathed in the demon world.
Though it was unwise to continue to wait in the stadium arena, the passageways of the Ankoku Bujutsukai stadium were in themselves far from safe. The long, twisting hallways were dark, dank, and dangerous. Demons had a tendency to skulk about the passages, ready and waiting to heckle the ill-favored members of Team Urameshi and their sparse fans. Kurama walked through these passageways at a steady pace, head bowed, brow furrowed in deep thought. He would be in no real danger, even if the demons he passed felt the need to act on their childish taunts, but it was best not to linger in any one place for too long.
The matches repeated over in his mind as he thought out possible tactics to use against the formidable fighters of Team Toguro. It was unlikely Shuuichi's body could withstand attacks from any of the three - a human body was simply insufficient. Even though Kurama had a considerable amount of power in Shuuichi's form, it would be difficult to gain any leeway when facing the magnificently dreadful abilities of Karasu and his teammates. Kurama would need the power of his demon form; the strength of the plants he could summon in that body far outweighed that of the plants Shuuichi commanded. Toguro's team had annihilated an all-demon team, besides; truth be told, Team Gorenja hadn't been exceptionally powerful, but it had been composed of demons, nonetheless. If Kurama were to ever hope of defeating a Toguro fighter, he would have to be at least their same level in skill. In order to do so, it was imperative that he change forms.
However, here Kurama was at a loss. The only reason he had been able to change to his other form in his last match was because of the egregious miscalculation in Ura Urashima's attack. Without the effects of the mist, however, Kurama knew not how to change to his demon form. He had - as a demon he passed felt so inclined to generously remind him - only two days to devise a way.
With so much revolving around in his head, it came as no surprise that Kurama didn't notice that the path ahead was barred by none other than Karasu and Bui of Team Toguro. The red-haired fighter only came to this realization when he was several feet away, and immediately cursed his carelessness. He had become swept up in his thoughts and relaxed his guard, something he rectified instantly as he adopted a fighting stance in front of the two.
The members of Team Toguro were even more formidable up close. Bui stood erect, tall and solidly built, muscles bulging under his body armor. The colors of his thick armor and underlying body suit were primarily greens, silvers, oranges, and blues, complimentary, yet oddly garish for someone of his ruthless, silent nature. A helmet and mask obscured his face from view, reminiscent of those worn by the samurai warriors of feudal Japan. To Bui's left stood Karasu. His tall, slender body was clothed in tight black, accentuating his lithe form and dipping down to show the pale, flawless skin and soft, graceful muscles of his chest. The ebony material of his clothes gained a sheen from the dim lighting of the passageway; that same unearthly glow was mirrored on his long, sable hair. The shirttails of his outfit streamed down in long strips of fabric, appearing to be a movement- impairing decoration, but enhancing the grace and demonic qualities of the fighter. Karasu stood with an air of self-confidence, his hands resting in his pockets in a casual manner. His deep violet eyes sparkled dangerously above his masked mouth. Kurama gritted his teeth. Karasu's mask - it covered the bottom half of his face, silver, gleaming in the low light. It held the mystery, the intrigue. A spark of anger flitted through Kurama's breast; how he longed to rip that mask off, exposing the demon's secrets to the world.
"I noticed you were the only Urameshi fighter to watch our matches. I presume the rest of your team is brimming with confidence," Karasu spoke; his tone was light and amused. The mask gave his voice a disturbing, echoing, metallic quality.
Kurama chuckled wryly.
"Far from it," he replied, careful to keep his guard up. He quashed the anger, the fear, the frustration, as best he could; he had to keep his wits about him. One slip and the two Toguro fighters could kill him in a heartbeat.
"Then they must be incredibly foolish," Karasu continued, his eyes locked on Kurama. Though his mannerisms were casual, composed, his eyes were glittering with wicked purpose.
"You're welcome to think so." It was true that Yuusuke and Kuwabara weren't exactly careful planners, but that wasn't to say they fought blindly. Both boys had incredible fighting instincts, and even if they didn't plan out their moves beforehand - which was most often the case - they still managed to employ quick and intelligent decisions in battle. Hiei and Genkai were seasoned warriors, and their fighting techniques matched their long-held skill and experience. Even if the odds were against Team Urameshi, its fighters weren't going to relinquish wins very easily.
"You needn't worry about the outcomes so," Karasu interrupted Kurama's musings on his team members. "The four of you will be dead in two days, so it doesn't really matter how much of an effort you make." He spoke in all seriousness, but his tone was light, offhand. Another fleck of anger flitted through Kurama. However, his momentary irritation was replaced quickly by worry.
"Four of us?" Kurama narrowed his eyes, glimmers of dread surfacing as small clenches of tightness in his chest. There were five fighters for Team Urameshi, and nothing Kurama could think of - other than the impending final round - would change those numbers. However, the Toguro fighters being as powerful and cryptic as they seemed, nothing they said could be taken lightly.
"One of you will be killed today. You'll find out who it is later."
Before this unsettlingly prophetic message could fully register in Kurama's mind, a deafening noise filled the passageway. Kurama started, glancing to Bui, who had wordlessly slammed one of his massive fists into the wall next to him. Bits of the dark gray stone crumbled around the indentation in the wall, and Bui straightened, resuming his unemotional, rigid position. Kurama frowned, confused at the sudden and seemingly pointless action, and turned back to Karasu.
The red-haired fighter gasped, instinctual defenses going up as his gaze darted through the passageway. Karasu wasn't there. In the split second when Bui had distracted Kurama's attention, Karasu had managed to vanish entirely. Kurama peered through the darkness the hall continued through, but could see nothing; he tried to sense Karasu's youki, but found only a rapidly increasing fear inside of him. Karasu wouldn't have left; Kurama would never be able to challenge him in Shuuichi's form, so there would have been no threat to Karasu's life that would have warranted a quick escape.
'Where is he?!' Fear rose in Kurama, fear and weakness. To think that Karasu could take advantage of such a momentary lapse in Kurama's focus exposed the horrible dangers involved should a battle ever take place. Karasu's level of speed was overwhelmingly high, and that it was used against Kurama so easily inspired a frightening realization of the half- human's own weakness.
Suddenly, seeming to fabricate out of the darkness itself, hands came from behind Kurama to loosely encircle his neck. A choked gasp escaped Kurama's throat, his eyes widening as panic and fear tightened in his chest. Beads of perspiration trickled down the redhead's face, but he didn't dare brush them away. He didn't dare move. Having already been witness to Karasu's terrible powers - powers that required merely the lightest touch - Kurama was terrified of contact with the raven-haired fighter, especially with only his threadbare understanding of Karasu's true power to help him. To provoke unnecessary contact with Karasu would be toying with death.
"Your hair is so long and fine, Kurama. May I cut it for you? It might make fighting less of a hassle," Karasu spoke, his voice low and teasing, coming from very close by Kurama's ear; he caught a clump of Kurama's hair, letting the fiery red strands slip smoothly through his pale, slender fingers.
Kurama felt irrational hatred burn brilliantly inside of him. His remaining demon pride could cope with not comprehending the ambiguous powers of Karasu, even with the fear that the black-clad demon inspired with only a touch. But Karasu was *taunting* him, flaunting his strength in the face of Kurama's weakness, asserting his dominance over the red-haired youth. That was something Kurama's past life as a renowned demon could not stand for.
"Bastard!" With a flush of shame painted across his face, Kurama threw caution to the winds, lashing out, swinging a fist behind him to force Karasu off. However, in one deft, fluid motion, Karasu caught hold of Kurama's wrist and wrenched the half-human's arm behind his back. This elicited a soft cry from the fiery-haired fighter, a mixture of surprise and pain. Kurama began struggling, a panicked attempt to break free from Karasu's cold, powerful grip. But Karasu increased the pressure, twisting Kurama's arm with a painful amount of force; Kurama ceased resisting with a soft whine.
"Mm... that's what makes you so very appealing, Kurama," Karasu chuckled softly in the boy's ear. "You try so hard to keep that feisty temper in check, but all it takes is a little joke to make you lose it. It's so... precious." Kurama felt another wave of anger wash over him at the sound. His emotions were raging unchecked, fluctuating between hatred and deep fear; the demon's mocking tone and effortless subjugation of him were igniting uncurbed feelings to take precedence over thinking of a way to escape from Karasu's clutches.
"Pretty little thing. Would you like to know what makes you so captivating?" Karasu lowered his voice to a seductive purr and continued without a response from the red-haired fighter. "It's the demon that you harbor. Your pretense of being a calm, demure boy gives way quite easily to the more uncontrolled emotions of your demon self. You love fighting - you take pleasure in it, just as I do. I don't blame you. It's so delightful to see an opponent subject to your every whims..." Karasu slid his other hand slowly down Kurama's back, fingers caressing the nubs of the boy's spine as he moved his body closer. His slender hand maneuvered around to rest on Kurama's stomach, fingers teasing the supple flesh through the half-human's clothes. Kurama stiffened, fear and revulsion replacing anger and hatred as the dominant emotions, clenching in his chest and up his throat, causing words to die before they even reached his lips.
"I was surprised when I learned the great Youko Kurama had taken up residence in a human body. A weak, submissive, breakable, human body. I had heard stories of your triumphs as a demon, how you managed to outwit many powerful demons time and time again. To think, you had given it all up for this. By now, as your former self, you would have cut me to pieces with one of your plants, yet here... you tremble in fear of my touch. I thought I'd be repulsed by your new form..." Karasu delicately fingered the sash tied below Kurama's ribs, pulling the boy's body up against his own. He murmured softly, his tone dangerous, lustful, "Who knew a human body could be so... desirable."
A shiver ran down Kurama's spine, his breath hitching softly. Karasu laughed quietly, delightedly, and dipped his hand down to trace over cloth the contours of Kurama's hipbones; the red-haired boy had to bite back a cry of protest.
"Finding you so helpless so easily... Kurama, you've provided me with more amusement than I've had in a long while." Karasu's alluring voice came in barely more than a whisper, a hushed, reverent murmur meant for the victim only. "What I desire most, beautiful one, is to reduce you to this once more. You're so much more glorious with a mask of fear, especially as it ebbs away your inclement rage. This realization that you are powerless against me; my fondest wish is for you to experience that in battle. But you mustn't show this beautiful, helpless face to anyone but me. You are mine to do with as I please, Kurama." Karasu's hand slid back up to Kurama's stomach, pulling the boy even closer, holding him against his black-clad form; Kurama's body was rigid with terror.
"That's why I'm going to kill you, Kurama."
Karasu suddenly stepped back, gently releasing Kurama, and began to walk away slowly, his hands returning to his pockets as he resumed his casual stance once more. Bui turned and followed the thin fighter, both walking off as though nothing had transpired.
"I look forward to it," he called back with an almost surreal flippancy, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hall until he walked far enough away to be engulfed by the darkness.
Kurama didn't dare move for a moment, even after Karasu had left his sight. A few long, agonizing minutes ticked by, and finally the fighter sank to his knees, his body trembling. A tumult of emotions engulfed him, each more confusing than the last. He was repulsed by Karasu's actions; though physical affection from another male did not perturb him, Karasu's forced, unwanted, invasive contact had left Kurama feeling violated and vulnerable. He had been utterly unable to resist; fear and Karasu's superior strength had subjugated him easily.
The half-human was disgusted with himself. Though he, at all times, tried to maintain an unruffled, rational demeanor, Karasu had been able to break that with his mere touch. Kurama's weaknesses had been exposed one after the other, and he had been unable to counter anything Karasu did to him, both physically and mentally. The black-clad demon had succeeded in drawing out Kurama's more temperamental emotions, exploiting his remaining demon pride to blind him with anger, shame, and fear. If this had been an actual fight, Kurama would have been dead within minutes. It was shameful how easily his guard had been dropped, how quickly he had submitted to being a pawn in Karasu's sadistic games.
Yet Kurama was not overtaken only by shame. A burning determination was rising, strengthening his earlier desires, a determination to fight the explosive demon. His own demon pride had been deeply wounded by his carelessness. Karasu was correct about one thing: Kurama's demon side delighted in the prospect of a challenge. The demon that was Youko Kurama was quickly developing a fervent desire to combat Karasu. A part of Kurama thirsted for the opportunity to defeat the challenge that was Karasu, to force his own abilities to improve so he could conquer the unconquerable. For that was the true basis of fighting: to find an opponent who possessed power that far exceeded your own so you could rise to meet the challenge and surmount it. Even though he feared and detested Karasu with every fiber of his being, Kurama felt a new sense of purpose, a need to gain the strength to defeat the demon.
The red-haired boy slowly stood, his muscles subsiding in their fierce trembling, and began again the winding journey back to the hotel. It would be difficult - impossible, even - but he would try his hardest to devise a plan. The finals were only two days away, yet Kurama was determined to use that time to find a way to defeat Karasu. The tacit agreement that had arisen between the two fighters was to battle to the death in the finals. Everything would be at stake. Kurama had no intention of losing.
By QG
With a roar, the stadium erupted into raucous applause. With the last match of the Ankoku Bujutsukai semi-finals finished, the teams for the finals - only two days away - had been decided. Team Urameshi had concluded its set of matches some time before; this last round had decided its opponents. The fights had pitted Team Toguro against an all-demon team of young upstarts, Team Gorenja, in the semi-finals.
After the matches had ended, it was surprising to know that Team Gorenja had gone as far as the semi-finals. Despite only having three members present, Team Toguro had defeated its opponents effortlessly; the matches had been quick; the Toguro members had mercilessly dominated their opponents. Karasu, Bui, and the elder Toguro brother had utterly overwhelmed Team Gorenja; Toguro had taken on three opponents at once and still managed to kill them all without showing any signs of effort. The audience clearly favored the victors, supplying deafening cheers after each win, encouraging the fighters to be as ruthless as possible, captivated by the bloody and brutal methods used in each fight.
Though the rules of the tournament did not require the death of the opponent, not one of the Team Gorenja members had been spared. Karasu had used vicious explosions to literally disarm his opponent, Mido Renja, before mercilessly blowing the green-skinned demon's body apart. Bui had summoned an enormous axe to overpower the brute strength of Kirenja, shattering the latter's body with the inconceivable adroitness with which he wielded the axe. Toguro had delighted in toying with the last few fighters, forcing them to beg for their lives and stringing them along false hopes before slaughtering them brutally. Team Toguro was cruel, powerful, and sadistic.
And that had only been three of them.
Possibly the only member of the crowd who had *not* watched the matches with bloodlust-driven glee was Kurama, the graceful fox demon-turned-human of Team Urameshi. He had stood against a wall in the back, removed from the thick of the demon crowd - unlike what his team's female friends had done when they cheered Kurama and the others on during their matches - wanting as much as possible to avoid the rowdiness and distractions of the audience, not to mention the dangers; a good portion of the spectators had been vaporized by Mido Renja's attacks during Karasu's fight. No, Kurama had come to the matches to observe technique, not delight in the senseless destruction of life. Upon finishing their own matches, Genkai had advised Kurama and his friends to watch Toguro's last few fights, in order to better understand their opponents. It hadn't been necessary to tell Kurama this - he had already intended to observe the last round of the semi-finals - but perhaps it would have been more beneficial had *other* members of Team Urameshi attended.
Kurama was reprimanding himself for not forcing Hiei ("Who cares what the hag says? I have better things to do.") to come with him. Hiei's demon abilities would have made understanding Team Toguro's powers a whole lot easier. It was Karasu Kurama was having the most trouble with. Kurama had a guess as to his abilities; from the manner in which the fight with Mido Renja had progressed, it appeared that Karasu injected powerful, concentrated pockets of youki into a part of his opponent's body through touch, and, after a moment, those pockets would burst, causing an explosion. However, it was extremely difficult to tell, especially with the limitations Shuuichi's body placed on Kurama's powers of perception. If Hiei had come to the matches, he could have given Kurama a better insight into what exactly transpired during Karasu's fight.
'Then I wouldn't have to be so bothered by all this,' Kurama mused. For something about Karasu worried him. Kurama was very unsure of Karasu's capabilities, and it was unsettling, to say the least. Most of his other opponents had given away much of their abilities, if not the moment a fight began, then at least fairly soon into a battle. Certainly, the part human had been able to glean much by watching would-be opponents fight others. But Karasu was different. He kept his capabilities under a fine veil of mystery, tantalizing Kurama with a vague understanding of how exactly he managed to create explosions, yet obscuring the true and full comprehension of the logistics.
Also, there was something... else about Karasu that bothered Kurama. Watching Karasu's match, Kurama had felt something inside of him, a longing to fight the explosive fighter himself. Karasu's carefully calculated method of fighting was so very intriguing to Kurama: his fluid, graceful movements, his dominating power, his incredibly subtle actions and deadly fast reflexes. It wasn't an attraction, that much was certain - Karasu's senseless killing and sadistic enjoyment of the fighting were definite deterrents - but something about Karasu drew out an innate proclivity for fighting in Kurama, an insatiable lust for battle, for a worthy and challenging opponent - a remnant of Kurama's centuries as a demon. Kurama had experienced bare tastes of these feelings before - when swept up in the heat of a particularly difficult battle a glimmer of enjoyment had passed through him from time to time - but never had those feelings been so intense as they were now. He attributed this to his very recent experience in his demon form, his pugnacious desires strengthening with the brief restitution of his previous body.
In any case, Kurama was worried. Not only was Team Urameshi about to face some of the strongest opponents it had ever had - and it, in itself, was but a ragtag group of children who sometimes had to rely on pure luck to triumph - but Karasu was *already* beginning to affect Kurama himself. Fear began to blossom for his inability to understand Karasu's abilities - and therefore to have any good chance of winning should Karasu be his opponent in the finals - but also for his blind desire to do battle with the black- clad fighter. Irrational emotions often led to headstrong decisions - choices that could mean life or death in such a serious fight. At the moment, Kurama was being guided almost entirely by these irrational emotions - fear, desire - though he attempted to ground himself in reasoning and rational thought, and those would inevitably lead to terrible consequences.
The red-haired fighter sighed softly. This was all so difficult to sort out. He wished again for the presence of one of his friends - Hiei would have been the best candidate - merely for a person to talk to, to help Kurama through his muddled thoughts and feelings. Despite the fire-demon's antisocial tendencies, his quiet was welcome when Kurama wished to express doubts, worries, really, anything that was troubling him. Sometimes it helped to voice his thoughts, as a way of organizing them. At the same time, a simple, candid reflection from Hiei would have been extremely helpful. All it took was a callous, practical phrase to make the half-human realize if he were getting too bogged down in details and to let him see an easier solution to a difficult situation. Unfortunately for Kurama, he would have to wait until he could find Hiei - or *any* of his friends, for that matter - with enough time to let him speak his mind. With the finals being but two days away, that opportunity seemed unlikely.
Kurama sighed once more, straightening and moving away from the wall he had been leaning against. The stream of demon spectators leaving the stadium was thinning, and it was an opportune moment for him to slip out essentially unmolested. Kurama had wished to avoid the emotionally charged audience members who were the first to leave, still on a high from watching blood being spilt, but also to avoid the stragglers, the demons who might wait until there were fewer people around and take advantage of the chance to confront Kurama alone. Demons were especially cold toward Kurama for two reasons; while as a demon, Kurama had made quite a name for himself through his thievery, and with that, many enemies as well. However, what demons considered the more serious offense was that Kurama had relinquished his demon status - though not by choice - to live with humans, to live *as* a human. Humans were detestable creatures to demons - evident in their clear opposition to Team Urameshi in general - and anyone who sympathized with them was loathed in the demon world.
Though it was unwise to continue to wait in the stadium arena, the passageways of the Ankoku Bujutsukai stadium were in themselves far from safe. The long, twisting hallways were dark, dank, and dangerous. Demons had a tendency to skulk about the passages, ready and waiting to heckle the ill-favored members of Team Urameshi and their sparse fans. Kurama walked through these passageways at a steady pace, head bowed, brow furrowed in deep thought. He would be in no real danger, even if the demons he passed felt the need to act on their childish taunts, but it was best not to linger in any one place for too long.
The matches repeated over in his mind as he thought out possible tactics to use against the formidable fighters of Team Toguro. It was unlikely Shuuichi's body could withstand attacks from any of the three - a human body was simply insufficient. Even though Kurama had a considerable amount of power in Shuuichi's form, it would be difficult to gain any leeway when facing the magnificently dreadful abilities of Karasu and his teammates. Kurama would need the power of his demon form; the strength of the plants he could summon in that body far outweighed that of the plants Shuuichi commanded. Toguro's team had annihilated an all-demon team, besides; truth be told, Team Gorenja hadn't been exceptionally powerful, but it had been composed of demons, nonetheless. If Kurama were to ever hope of defeating a Toguro fighter, he would have to be at least their same level in skill. In order to do so, it was imperative that he change forms.
However, here Kurama was at a loss. The only reason he had been able to change to his other form in his last match was because of the egregious miscalculation in Ura Urashima's attack. Without the effects of the mist, however, Kurama knew not how to change to his demon form. He had - as a demon he passed felt so inclined to generously remind him - only two days to devise a way.
With so much revolving around in his head, it came as no surprise that Kurama didn't notice that the path ahead was barred by none other than Karasu and Bui of Team Toguro. The red-haired fighter only came to this realization when he was several feet away, and immediately cursed his carelessness. He had become swept up in his thoughts and relaxed his guard, something he rectified instantly as he adopted a fighting stance in front of the two.
The members of Team Toguro were even more formidable up close. Bui stood erect, tall and solidly built, muscles bulging under his body armor. The colors of his thick armor and underlying body suit were primarily greens, silvers, oranges, and blues, complimentary, yet oddly garish for someone of his ruthless, silent nature. A helmet and mask obscured his face from view, reminiscent of those worn by the samurai warriors of feudal Japan. To Bui's left stood Karasu. His tall, slender body was clothed in tight black, accentuating his lithe form and dipping down to show the pale, flawless skin and soft, graceful muscles of his chest. The ebony material of his clothes gained a sheen from the dim lighting of the passageway; that same unearthly glow was mirrored on his long, sable hair. The shirttails of his outfit streamed down in long strips of fabric, appearing to be a movement- impairing decoration, but enhancing the grace and demonic qualities of the fighter. Karasu stood with an air of self-confidence, his hands resting in his pockets in a casual manner. His deep violet eyes sparkled dangerously above his masked mouth. Kurama gritted his teeth. Karasu's mask - it covered the bottom half of his face, silver, gleaming in the low light. It held the mystery, the intrigue. A spark of anger flitted through Kurama's breast; how he longed to rip that mask off, exposing the demon's secrets to the world.
"I noticed you were the only Urameshi fighter to watch our matches. I presume the rest of your team is brimming with confidence," Karasu spoke; his tone was light and amused. The mask gave his voice a disturbing, echoing, metallic quality.
Kurama chuckled wryly.
"Far from it," he replied, careful to keep his guard up. He quashed the anger, the fear, the frustration, as best he could; he had to keep his wits about him. One slip and the two Toguro fighters could kill him in a heartbeat.
"Then they must be incredibly foolish," Karasu continued, his eyes locked on Kurama. Though his mannerisms were casual, composed, his eyes were glittering with wicked purpose.
"You're welcome to think so." It was true that Yuusuke and Kuwabara weren't exactly careful planners, but that wasn't to say they fought blindly. Both boys had incredible fighting instincts, and even if they didn't plan out their moves beforehand - which was most often the case - they still managed to employ quick and intelligent decisions in battle. Hiei and Genkai were seasoned warriors, and their fighting techniques matched their long-held skill and experience. Even if the odds were against Team Urameshi, its fighters weren't going to relinquish wins very easily.
"You needn't worry about the outcomes so," Karasu interrupted Kurama's musings on his team members. "The four of you will be dead in two days, so it doesn't really matter how much of an effort you make." He spoke in all seriousness, but his tone was light, offhand. Another fleck of anger flitted through Kurama. However, his momentary irritation was replaced quickly by worry.
"Four of us?" Kurama narrowed his eyes, glimmers of dread surfacing as small clenches of tightness in his chest. There were five fighters for Team Urameshi, and nothing Kurama could think of - other than the impending final round - would change those numbers. However, the Toguro fighters being as powerful and cryptic as they seemed, nothing they said could be taken lightly.
"One of you will be killed today. You'll find out who it is later."
Before this unsettlingly prophetic message could fully register in Kurama's mind, a deafening noise filled the passageway. Kurama started, glancing to Bui, who had wordlessly slammed one of his massive fists into the wall next to him. Bits of the dark gray stone crumbled around the indentation in the wall, and Bui straightened, resuming his unemotional, rigid position. Kurama frowned, confused at the sudden and seemingly pointless action, and turned back to Karasu.
The red-haired fighter gasped, instinctual defenses going up as his gaze darted through the passageway. Karasu wasn't there. In the split second when Bui had distracted Kurama's attention, Karasu had managed to vanish entirely. Kurama peered through the darkness the hall continued through, but could see nothing; he tried to sense Karasu's youki, but found only a rapidly increasing fear inside of him. Karasu wouldn't have left; Kurama would never be able to challenge him in Shuuichi's form, so there would have been no threat to Karasu's life that would have warranted a quick escape.
'Where is he?!' Fear rose in Kurama, fear and weakness. To think that Karasu could take advantage of such a momentary lapse in Kurama's focus exposed the horrible dangers involved should a battle ever take place. Karasu's level of speed was overwhelmingly high, and that it was used against Kurama so easily inspired a frightening realization of the half- human's own weakness.
Suddenly, seeming to fabricate out of the darkness itself, hands came from behind Kurama to loosely encircle his neck. A choked gasp escaped Kurama's throat, his eyes widening as panic and fear tightened in his chest. Beads of perspiration trickled down the redhead's face, but he didn't dare brush them away. He didn't dare move. Having already been witness to Karasu's terrible powers - powers that required merely the lightest touch - Kurama was terrified of contact with the raven-haired fighter, especially with only his threadbare understanding of Karasu's true power to help him. To provoke unnecessary contact with Karasu would be toying with death.
"Your hair is so long and fine, Kurama. May I cut it for you? It might make fighting less of a hassle," Karasu spoke, his voice low and teasing, coming from very close by Kurama's ear; he caught a clump of Kurama's hair, letting the fiery red strands slip smoothly through his pale, slender fingers.
Kurama felt irrational hatred burn brilliantly inside of him. His remaining demon pride could cope with not comprehending the ambiguous powers of Karasu, even with the fear that the black-clad demon inspired with only a touch. But Karasu was *taunting* him, flaunting his strength in the face of Kurama's weakness, asserting his dominance over the red-haired youth. That was something Kurama's past life as a renowned demon could not stand for.
"Bastard!" With a flush of shame painted across his face, Kurama threw caution to the winds, lashing out, swinging a fist behind him to force Karasu off. However, in one deft, fluid motion, Karasu caught hold of Kurama's wrist and wrenched the half-human's arm behind his back. This elicited a soft cry from the fiery-haired fighter, a mixture of surprise and pain. Kurama began struggling, a panicked attempt to break free from Karasu's cold, powerful grip. But Karasu increased the pressure, twisting Kurama's arm with a painful amount of force; Kurama ceased resisting with a soft whine.
"Mm... that's what makes you so very appealing, Kurama," Karasu chuckled softly in the boy's ear. "You try so hard to keep that feisty temper in check, but all it takes is a little joke to make you lose it. It's so... precious." Kurama felt another wave of anger wash over him at the sound. His emotions were raging unchecked, fluctuating between hatred and deep fear; the demon's mocking tone and effortless subjugation of him were igniting uncurbed feelings to take precedence over thinking of a way to escape from Karasu's clutches.
"Pretty little thing. Would you like to know what makes you so captivating?" Karasu lowered his voice to a seductive purr and continued without a response from the red-haired fighter. "It's the demon that you harbor. Your pretense of being a calm, demure boy gives way quite easily to the more uncontrolled emotions of your demon self. You love fighting - you take pleasure in it, just as I do. I don't blame you. It's so delightful to see an opponent subject to your every whims..." Karasu slid his other hand slowly down Kurama's back, fingers caressing the nubs of the boy's spine as he moved his body closer. His slender hand maneuvered around to rest on Kurama's stomach, fingers teasing the supple flesh through the half-human's clothes. Kurama stiffened, fear and revulsion replacing anger and hatred as the dominant emotions, clenching in his chest and up his throat, causing words to die before they even reached his lips.
"I was surprised when I learned the great Youko Kurama had taken up residence in a human body. A weak, submissive, breakable, human body. I had heard stories of your triumphs as a demon, how you managed to outwit many powerful demons time and time again. To think, you had given it all up for this. By now, as your former self, you would have cut me to pieces with one of your plants, yet here... you tremble in fear of my touch. I thought I'd be repulsed by your new form..." Karasu delicately fingered the sash tied below Kurama's ribs, pulling the boy's body up against his own. He murmured softly, his tone dangerous, lustful, "Who knew a human body could be so... desirable."
A shiver ran down Kurama's spine, his breath hitching softly. Karasu laughed quietly, delightedly, and dipped his hand down to trace over cloth the contours of Kurama's hipbones; the red-haired boy had to bite back a cry of protest.
"Finding you so helpless so easily... Kurama, you've provided me with more amusement than I've had in a long while." Karasu's alluring voice came in barely more than a whisper, a hushed, reverent murmur meant for the victim only. "What I desire most, beautiful one, is to reduce you to this once more. You're so much more glorious with a mask of fear, especially as it ebbs away your inclement rage. This realization that you are powerless against me; my fondest wish is for you to experience that in battle. But you mustn't show this beautiful, helpless face to anyone but me. You are mine to do with as I please, Kurama." Karasu's hand slid back up to Kurama's stomach, pulling the boy even closer, holding him against his black-clad form; Kurama's body was rigid with terror.
"That's why I'm going to kill you, Kurama."
Karasu suddenly stepped back, gently releasing Kurama, and began to walk away slowly, his hands returning to his pockets as he resumed his casual stance once more. Bui turned and followed the thin fighter, both walking off as though nothing had transpired.
"I look forward to it," he called back with an almost surreal flippancy, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hall until he walked far enough away to be engulfed by the darkness.
Kurama didn't dare move for a moment, even after Karasu had left his sight. A few long, agonizing minutes ticked by, and finally the fighter sank to his knees, his body trembling. A tumult of emotions engulfed him, each more confusing than the last. He was repulsed by Karasu's actions; though physical affection from another male did not perturb him, Karasu's forced, unwanted, invasive contact had left Kurama feeling violated and vulnerable. He had been utterly unable to resist; fear and Karasu's superior strength had subjugated him easily.
The half-human was disgusted with himself. Though he, at all times, tried to maintain an unruffled, rational demeanor, Karasu had been able to break that with his mere touch. Kurama's weaknesses had been exposed one after the other, and he had been unable to counter anything Karasu did to him, both physically and mentally. The black-clad demon had succeeded in drawing out Kurama's more temperamental emotions, exploiting his remaining demon pride to blind him with anger, shame, and fear. If this had been an actual fight, Kurama would have been dead within minutes. It was shameful how easily his guard had been dropped, how quickly he had submitted to being a pawn in Karasu's sadistic games.
Yet Kurama was not overtaken only by shame. A burning determination was rising, strengthening his earlier desires, a determination to fight the explosive demon. His own demon pride had been deeply wounded by his carelessness. Karasu was correct about one thing: Kurama's demon side delighted in the prospect of a challenge. The demon that was Youko Kurama was quickly developing a fervent desire to combat Karasu. A part of Kurama thirsted for the opportunity to defeat the challenge that was Karasu, to force his own abilities to improve so he could conquer the unconquerable. For that was the true basis of fighting: to find an opponent who possessed power that far exceeded your own so you could rise to meet the challenge and surmount it. Even though he feared and detested Karasu with every fiber of his being, Kurama felt a new sense of purpose, a need to gain the strength to defeat the demon.
The red-haired boy slowly stood, his muscles subsiding in their fierce trembling, and began again the winding journey back to the hotel. It would be difficult - impossible, even - but he would try his hardest to devise a plan. The finals were only two days away, yet Kurama was determined to use that time to find a way to defeat Karasu. The tacit agreement that had arisen between the two fighters was to battle to the death in the finals. Everything would be at stake. Kurama had no intention of losing.