Swing

Part two

By Funara

Today is the Vernal Equinox.

Here in the Ningenkai, few know about the equinoxes and solstices and still fewer care. To them, it's just another whim of science, recording the dates when each season fades into the next, when each new season is "officially" beginning. It's stupid, really. But then again, humans have a wonderful gift for inventing useless concepts and gadgets. Most of them probably don't even know that equinoxes, like solstices, are measured by the distance of the Sun from the equator, or that the vernal equinox in one part of the world could be the autumnal equinox in another. Hn.

Who am I to talk, though? Most of this knowledge about suns and equators I gleaned from Kurama's textbooks. Not that he taught me. I merely glanced through them while he was away. In the Makai, demons have little use for scientific explanations. If something happens a certain way, at a certain time, that's just the way it is. Unless one has a good reason to investigate, it is best just to let it alone. And as I am a full blood demon, I have always followed this principle.

Still, as disgusted as I was to find that both demons and humans shared a disregard for explanations, I was even more appalled to find that my race and that of the fool Kuwabara's shared another disturbing characteristic: Both find the most pathetic excuses for celebrations and holidays. Was a man who was supposed to be the son of God reborn on this day millennia ago? Let's take some days off and have a good time. Was today the day we liberated ourselves from some oppressive rulers centuries ago? A party is in order. In the Makai, many find that although they have no idea exactly who conquered this territory or what group rebelled and massacred that other group, it's nonetheless a good reason to abandon their lords, get drunk, challenge someone far stronger than they, and get themselves killed. It's revolting how serious events are degraded until they become nothing but a reason for frivolous, pointless reveling.

The Vernal Equinox would be nothing but another example proving my point, did it not possess such an unusual nature, one that sets it apart from other trivial celebrations. This equinox is celebrated by humans and demons for the same reason—the commemoration of new life, and eventually, the meaningless generalization, "life". It is also celebrated by both ningen and youkai on the same day, although, because of its location in another dimension, the Makai's seasonal patterns are nothing like those of the Ningenkai. There is no such imaginary line like the equator to divide the demon world into two different sections, with each section following a specific seasonal pattern. Some places have one season; some have variations of the same season; some have multiple seasons. Without fail, though, no matter what season each Makai territory happens to be experiencing at the time, the day of the Ningenkai Vernal Equinox coincides with the day of the Makai Vernal Equinox. Even if a territory is locked in an eternal winter, that day is declared as the Vernal Equinox, the first day of spring. Furthermore, the Vernal Equinox is the only solstice or equinox to be noted in Makai.

Few demons in Makai remember why this equinox is celebrated, and almost none of them know about that the dates of the Ningenkai and Makai Vernal Equinoxes coincide. I do, solely because I have the misfortune to have one foot planted in Ningenkai and one planted in Makai and thus, have to endure a continuous stream of trivial miscellanies from both sides. By injecting a few questions and comments into each source's never-ending speeches, I was able to extract information and piece together an explanation.

As the story goes, the Ningenkai, Makai and Reikai were created simultaneously in an explosion that was given the childish name the "Big Bang" by ningen. Some sort of entity, the forerunner of ningen and youkai, named Sosen, was given the authority to rule Ningenkai and Makai, while Enma took Reikai. Neither ruler was allowed to interfere in the realms of the other unless asked.

At some point, demons began to appear in Makai, probably created as a way to alleviate Sosen's boredom with ruling two worlds barren of mobile life. After a sizable number of them began to thrive, Sosen sorted them by strength and banished the weaker ones to Ningenkai, leaving the strongest in Makai. The latter was his favored world and home; he preferred not to share it with worthless weaklings. Occasionally, a reversal of a previous culling would occur, and a demon banished to Ningenkai, if now deemed strong enough, would be allowed to return to Makai. The feeblest youkai eventually died and were taken to Reikai by Enma himself, who had been asked by Sosen to take care of the demons that died in Ningenkai.

This selection was repeated every year on the same day—the Ningenkai Vernal Equinox. The reason behind the date is unknown, though some sentimentalists with nothing better to do informed me that they believed that the Vernal Equinox was chosen, because "the rebirth of new life represented and reminded the Ningenkai outcasts of the chance they had to regain their old lives in Makai, while in Makai, the youkai that had passed the culling celebrated the continuing of their old lives. After all, Makai only had one season at this point." I chose not to waste my time pondering their reasoning, especially when expressed in such a dragged-out sentence; if it's not succinct, it's not important.

After several millennia, though, Sosen was killed by one of the youkai he'd hand-picked to inhabit his realm, and the culling ceased. Each world evolved on its own, the Makai eventually breeding weaklings, the Ningenkai producing rare powerful demons that were unable to return to their original home. Gradually, the Ningenkai's weak demons lost what little ability they had in the beginning and slowly became the powerless humans of the present day. Today, so many eons later, only faint traces of the Vernal Equinox remain. Youkai and ningen celebrate this day, not knowing why. Only one fully intact object has survived the passage of time, though its true meaning has been long forgotten and twisted instead into falsehoods through the foolishness and short memories of humans.

There is hardly a human that has not seen or heard of the yin yang symbol. So many of them, mainly females, decorate themselves with the image of the divided circle without knowing its original meaning. If they know anything about it, they believe that it was invented by the Chinese to depict the balance of opposites. How would they feel if they knew it was the mark of a ritual that condemned the most pathetic demons to a miserable life of shame?

The yin yang symbol was Sosen's personal symbol, designed to represent the way he viewed the three worlds. The black represented Reikai, and the white Ningenkai. The small circles with the opposite color of their backgrounds showed the dabbling of each world in the affairs of the other and its effects. The invisible boundary where one color ended and the other started was Makai. The slenderness of the line indicated that only a small band of elite were allowed to call the Makai home, and those elite had to possess great cunning as well as physical strength to be considered worthy. These two traits corresponded with the two points on the outside of the circle where the line between black and white began and ended.

The yin yang, like the Vernal Equinox rituals, once a youkai's greatest hope or greatest fear, has faded and completely deviated from its original purpose. Likewise, relations between the inhabitants of Ningenkai and the inhabitants of Makai, intended by Sosen to be based on a cycle of the waning power of some youkai and the growing power of others, have ceased to be of great importance. The majority of ningen do not believe in youkai. The majority of youkai have no interest in Ningenkai; they are occupied enough with their troubles in Makai. Only the most powerful of each species consider the other worlds, and they often do not take the opinions of the majority into account at all; they have either enough power or money to override the desires of others.

There is nothing left. Only the scorn that youkai hold for ningen remains, and even the former do not remember the fundamental reason why. Humans believe they are celebrating the rebirth of new life when they are celebrating the Vernal Equinox. Demons have no idea what they are celebrating, but they continue their reveling anyway; they do not care for unnecessary and undesired explanations. I, however, sought rationalization, and I am now one of the few who understand the reason for the Vernal Equinox. I have never cared for festivities, because they often include having to endure the company of dozens of inebriates. Today is the Vernal Equinox; parties of all sorts will be occurring across Makai. I had no intention to take part in any of it, and now, knowing that so many of the ones who will be the loudest and rowdiest after a few drinks would have failed Sosen's selection process, there is nothing for me to do except to turn away from these weak, contemptible ignoramuses and their frivoling.

I intended to observe the goings on from my room in Mukuro's fortress, as I had always done for any occasions I felt no desire to participate in. From what I had seen, the procedure for these holidays and festivals did not waver, at least not for the peasants. No matter what the celebration was for, the lesser demons always got drunk and gallivanted off to impregnate the nearest females they could find. If not females, then anyone that caught their fancy. Then, after they staggered out of bed, they would inadvertently get into a drunken brawl and usually end up getting killed. This time was no exception.

To my severe annoyance, although Mukuro did not approve of her retainers making off with her liquor, she apparently did not oppose the part of the Vernal Equinox that involved having sex. She even went so far as to invite me to share her bed for that night. "Join in the festivities, Hiei, "she coaxed. "Even the lords of the Makai and their heirs need a break sometimes." Her natural eye watched me closely, her mouth curved into a half smile that also carried a hint of a smirk.

Did she really expect me to accept? I hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of the matter. If I accepted, it might be a good chance for me to further ensure that she would not choose another heir over me. She was offering me an opportunity to cement our not-entirely-stable heir-liege relationship. Still…something held me back. I looked beyond Mukuro to the wall behind her. Hanging on the wall was a tapestry of something or other, but the only thing I saw was the colors of the threads woven into it. Scarlet…emerald…silver…and gold. Two faces flashed in my memory, and I had a vision of the smiling being who had so often been the subject of my drifting thoughts.

I started when I realized what I was doing and trained my eyes back on Mukuro, who was regarding me strangely. Suddenly, all the pros of her proposition evaporated into nonsensical steam. "I decline," I finally answered. She raised an eyebrow, but expressed nothing else. In the end, she gave me permission to take a few days off, as I "apparently had no interest in the goings on". Or so she said.

I had no idea where I planned to go, but now…I find myself in the Ningenkai, sitting in a very familiar tree, watching a very familiar window. Except…the familiar window contains an unfamiliar face; instead of Kurama's immaculate room, I am faced with a bedroom containing piles of magazines, papers strewn about wildly, and clothing littering the ground.

A brown-haired boy sits on the floor, and he has on an odd contrivance that consists of two circular pieces, each covering an ear, and a long piece that arched over the head, connecting them. There is a wire or cord trailing from each ear piece, and they converge into one cord that ends in a black circular object that sits next to the boy. I do not recognize him, but as he is not the one whom I seek, he holds no interest for me. Obviously, Kurama is no longer the occupant of this room.

I cast out my senses carefully, searching for a familiar red and silver aura. Nothing. I frown. I had not even detected a lingering presence, such as one leaves on a place often occupied or visited. That only meant that he had not been here for a while. Had he moved out?

I sigh and curse halfheartedly, tiredly. I am not in the mood for a wild goose chase. To get to the Ningenkai, I had to open my own portal, keep it open while I passed through and close it properly. I am exhausted from the ki drain and have no idea why I wasted so much energy to come to a world that bores and disgusts me.

I pull off the ward that covers my Jagan, and it opens wide, glowing amethyst. I jump lightly from the tree to the roof of Kurama's old house, to the next house's roof, and the next, until I reach a building tall enough to provide a decent view of the area around. I scan the area briefly and come up with nothing. So I proceed, leaping and gliding until I reach a building that was outside my Jagan's range when I first scanned.

This time, the results are favorable. There is faint residual ki in an office building—his workplace, I presume. Luckily, I can feel active ki in an area fifteen or so blocks from the office; that must be where he is now. I leave my bird's eye view and make my way over to the aforementioned area, keeping my Jagan open. When I arrive in its midst, I am not surprised to see that it is a park. I am surprised, though, to find that the fox's ki is not broadcasting itself from the gardens, but the direction of the playgrounds.

I re-ward my Jagan. Although there are several sets of playgrounds, I do not need it to find Kurama. I set off on foot for the first playground in sight, not caring if I am sighted. I do not look otherworldly, merely "bleakly dressed", as Kurama once told me.

I do not cast my senses as I usually would—to do so would inform him of my presence and that I do not want. Instead, I move quietly, almost stealthily. As I approach the first playground, though, I decide that it might be wiser to move among the trees, and I blur from the ground. The mere action takes more effort than usual, and I know that my weariness is catching up with me. I'm not about to collapse and doze off, but I do need to rest.

So I do. Settling myself on a thick tree branch, hidden by the shadows that abound near the trunk, products of the afternoon sun and the newly sprung foliage, I consciously relax my muscles. Contrary to my former beliefs, I apparently am on the edge of collapse, for I fall asleep instantly. Normally, I would set up wards, but for some reason I feel safe among the greenery, a security I thought to only belong to the plant-loving kitsune. I do not dream, or if I do, I do not remember it when I wake up.

When I open my eyes next, I notice that the sun is setting. I can only see through the gaps between the leaves, so I cannot actually see the sun, but I can see its yellow orange glow reflected on a puddle near the tree. It must have rained recently—the ground is no longer solid, but has become squelching mud of a thick, oozing consistency.

A movement draws my attention. I turn my head slightly, but I cannot see through the leaves. Getting up, I descend to a lower branch, where I can see the playground. Whatever moved before is still moving, and I see that it is a long, wide piece of sanded wood, with each end attached to a long chain that is in turn attached to an iron bar supported by six supports. I have seen an iron and rubber variation of this ungainly thing before—it is a child's plaything. I carefully search my memory for its name: swing. How terribly creative.

The swing continues to jerk back and forth. Obviously, a child just jumped off of it, probably landing on hands and knees in the mud. In fact, I can see small, round indentations in the mire where the boy's hands, knees and feet pressed down.

I turn, fully intending to continue my search for Kurama. Night will fall soon, and I have no intention of sleeping outdoors, not when it might rain again. However, something about the swing detains me—something is wrong with its movement…but I do not see what.

The swing never swings a full circle. Only half circles and arcs…but never a full circle.

I blink. So what if the swing never swung a full circle? It didn't have enough momentum or energy to, and with only a rider able to provide energy and momentum, it certainly could not reach a full circle with the rider's weight causing it to—. I cut off my train of thought abruptly.

It's ironic, really, that I came across this swing on the Vernal Equinox. On the day when ningen begin to think of their "circle of life", and youkai celebrate life with sex, and death with raucous brawls, I find myself staring at an object that cannot complete a full circle. Cannot fit into the pattern of today's festivities. Cannot conform.

It's disturbing to find a reflection of myself in an inanimate object.

I snort self-deprecatingly. That's what comes of pointless musing—a nonsensical thought train that eventually leads to my comparing myself to a human child's plaything.

I shake my head to rid myself of such thoughts, but they persist. Despite the sheer ridiculousness of it, though, the idea is somewhat true. How long has it been since I had a motive for living, a purpose, a goal? How long since I took part in something momentous enough to last me to the end of my life? Before I met the human boy Urameshi, before I became a Reikai Tantei, my only goal was to look for Yukina, for the sister who owned the other tear gem shed by our mother.

Then I found her.

What was left after that? I'd accomplished the only goal I'd ever set for myself, besides becoming stronger; that was an eternal, ever-present goal. What was left was being forced to fight alongside Yuusuke, Kuwabara and Kurama. Weeks and months passed, and as I became acquainted with the others, I became acquainted also with not having a driving purpose. Although I would never admit it aloud, I can admit to myself that I got soft emotionally, if not physically. I was never restless, for Koenma was always sending us off on missions, and I was fairly content. Idiotically, I thought that as despicable as staying in the Ningenkai was, as long as I had a place to stay and a challenge to meet, I wouldn't have to strive for more.

The Makai Tournament changed that. I defeated the implanter of my Jagan, but lost my life. After regaining it, I immediately lost to the one who owned the tank in which I was rejuvenated. Victory, defeat, victory, defeat and another victory followed that, for I became Mukuro's heir, heir to all of Alaric and the power that would entail.

Something went wrong after that. I should have been content as Mukuro's heir. I was heir to a third of the Makai, wasn't I? And such a position would have given me the power I had always craved, wouldn't it? It should have been enough to occupy me until my death, something that should have given me a chance to complete a full circle.

It didn't.

I lost something when I left Ningenkai and returned to Makai. The something that could have contented me until my death, something with enough momentum to carry me through a complete life-wheel. I didn't realize what it was until I looked at the tapestry on Mukuro's wall.

Kurama.

That fox…he's not like the others. Those who tried to sidle their way into my heart never invested so much emotion in the game. What fool would try to get close to a closed-hearted, closed-mouthed bastard like me? The odds of success were and are tiny. Curiosity and a craving for a challenge do not justify why he would participate in a pointless quest. Every good thief and assassin knows that if a method does not prove successful after the first attempt, it is necessary to abandon it. So why does he not stop? Instead, he hangs on tenaciously no matter how often or hard I push him away.

Cruelly, ironically, no matter how much this game means to him, he will never know how much I need it. And because he can stop the game whenever he so pleases, he has trapped me in a cycle of give and take.

I've always hated being trapped, whether mentally or physically. Who wouldn't? The roiling, instinctive fear of the unknown rises up, no matter how much one has prepared or trained. It's difficult to change base instincts, and fear is one of them. That is true for all races.

Demons, however, unlike most humans, are fatalists and acceptors. We do not pound on the walls of our prison, screaming and wailing for help, dwelling on the seeming hopelessness of our situation. We accept what is, and move onto what will be or what could be.

I was never afraid of the game Kurama played. I didn't understand why he played, though I could come up with a number of valid reasons, but I did know what he wanted—my heart. Unfortunately for him, he was far from the first. After the first tried, so long ago, to win my affection for her own purposes, I realized that I needed to erase my heart. Using every hatred and dark feeling I'd ever felt, I scooped out affection and friendship and all the rest of that shit, and left it on the roadside for some peddler to pick up. I was sure that Kurama was wasting his time trying to win a nonexistent prize. Still, I let him deceive himself. I accepted and played his game, simply to enjoy a good game. After all, because of my previous experiences in the field, I could, up to a degree, predict the tactics he would use.

But somewhere along the line, the tables turned. It cannot have been his doing, otherwise he'd have been smirking in that self-satisfied way of his. No, the change was not instigated by him; it is my fault. My guard slipped for a moment, and I lost my advantage, all the ground I'd gained. My mistake? As I escaped from my hunter, I paused to look behind me.

When did it happen? For the briefest of moments I stopped pushing him away to seriously consider his offer, and too late I remembered that prey is never to consider surrender, because to do so is to commit suicide. I did so, and inevitably chained myself to our game. Surrender is sweet, says the traitorous part of me that dared look back. Do not surrender! scream my instincts, and, caught between two opposing forces, I can do nothing but keep on running, forever prolonging a race that should have ended long before.

What did I see when I looked back? I saw emptiness, no one following me. Kurama appeared to have given up the game. For a few long weeks, he made no attempt to engage me in conversation or invite me into his room. I should have felt relieved. I should have felt triumphant, if anything. I had won the game after all. But I did not. I felt empty and useless. Have I not said that demons are acceptors? I had accepted playing the game, and now that it was over, I merely needed a little time to readjust.

But even as those thoughts crossed my mind, I knew they were not true. If I had accepted the existence of his game, then I should have accepted its demise, and moved on. Lingering and loitering, so descriptive of my actions, is forbidden.

I realized, then, that the game we had been playing had ceased to become a game to me—it was a necessity. Doesn't every prey feel some sort of dull satisfaction that its hunter is chasing him, and not another? I was guilty of the same charge. I wanted to be needed, I wanted someone to care about what happened to me, if only because he would win his game.

Some time later, Kurama started up his campaign again, teasing and laughing all the way. And I participated, to receive what little gratification I could. I kept on running, stopping to slightly encourage him and then taking off again. In doing so, I have started my own cyclic game.

It's odd how everything I think or encounter today seems to be related to circles. Why is everyone so damn fascinated with circles? Ancient rituals and their symbols are so often circular, swings try to swing in a full circle, even hunts, chases and games are circles, for once one is finished, another must begin...

I am not representative of a circle. My lifecycle proceeds in a straight line, no curving back to meet death and the beginning. My swing has nothing to propel it into a full turn. I am unable to finish this one chase to begin another. Maybe that's why no one is fascinated with me, why no one spares me a second glance.

Today is the Vernal Equinox, Kurama. Were you in the Makai, in your youko form, you might be enjoying the festivities. Instead, you're here in the Ningenkai. Does your reincarnated self not care for the raucous celebrations? Or perhaps you have forgotten the holiday?

Whatever the reason, you, like me, have isolated yourself from the rest. I abhor social gatherings, and my hatred for the fools who celebrate the Vernal Equinox without knowing its significance gives me even more reason to stay away from Makai today. Maybe you dislike the story behind this equinox, because it emphasizes the weakness of humans, a race whose blood now runs in your veins. Or possibly it is simply because the Vernal Equinox rituals are described as a cycle, a circle. You alone never seemed to be intrigued by circles, but by semicircles, incomplete rings. Perhaps it is because you know that you can push them to the end.

Know this, though, kitsune: I will not lose to you. Although your beautiful face and glib tongue unconsciously show me and tell me the things I crave to hear, I have not surrendered to you. Although I may silently beg you to restart your pursuit of me, my walls are not breached. And finally, although I may dream longingly of your smile and your body, I will not come to you like a docile lamb.

I leap lightly off the tree branch. I can sense your ki from the next playground. Separately and conjunctively, we have broken so many rules and traditions already, fox. That a human and a demon would interact at all is unusual. Bearing that in mind, along with the fact that criminals hold little respect for foolish regulations, I will break our routine this time. Always you have approached me, as you are the hunter. Now, however, it is my turn to seek you out.