A/N: This chapter picks up where chapter one left off.

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Playing the Game
- Tenika Dargan

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Dear egotist boy; you've never really had to suffer any consequence.
You've never stayed with anyone longer than ten minutes.
You'd never understand anyone showing resistance.

- "Narcissus," Alanis Morissette

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Chapter Three

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Younetai was not exactly an impressive show of demon sophistication or society. In fact, it was nearly every hour of the day packed with the lowest-class, roughest, crudest sorts of demons, one of the single greatest hot spots for thievery, bad-bargains, cheap living and the trade of any kind of goods (from living things to fine bright cloth). Those with the tastes and the time flocked to the rough-hewn buildings and bustling, stinking inhabitants. It was a trader's paradise, a fool's kingdom and a pauper's hallway.

So it would seem that each and every one of these flaws would run directly against the youko's refined tastes; but in truth, Kurama had chosen this location for his permanent den precisely because of those flaws.

The reason was that the town was isolated, very large, and very disorganized, as well as the only stopping point for quite a while in that particular area of the makai. Caravans and passing demons had to stop there for rest before they could continue to their final destinations, and so the village was always knowledgeable in the shipping routes and contents of passing trade lines.

The stupidity of the inhabitants only made the deal sweeter - all Kuronue and he had to do was make a quick stop (disguised, of course), fool some low-class idiot into giving away a caravan itinerary, and a few nights later they would have a new target. It was simple, and so much more fun than simply hunting. The mind games made half the pleasure.

Kurama had made a second good move in choosing territory close to the village, something that he had not thought of in the beginning, but which turned out later to be very convenient: His fame easily preceded him, and only a few weeks after he had finally finished his den, demons had come flocking to the village, drawn by rumors painting this district as his new haunt, wanting to see Youko for themselves, wanting to try a hand at stealing his possessions, wanting to simply see if they could find him at all. In this way, his options for singular theft and attack had become endless. Kurama found the whole thing laughable, though he knew better than to laugh too hard - he relied on the stupidity of others to keep his plants happy and his collection growing. The flow of demon traffic had lessened, or course, over the centuries, but it still remained perfectly bountiful.

These thefts near Younetai were, however, only his petty crimes. No notable train of goods or powerful visitor ever passed by, and if they did, they were smart enough to know that his lands should be avoided. Kurama, instead of being frustrated by this, knew full well that he would be a very poor thief indeed if he kept his home right next to his larger jobs, where he would be lengthily searched for, and maybe even caught (just because his lands were known didn't mean that his den had yet been discovered). By expending a little more effort and time in travel, and taking a little more care, it was ensured that he would never be found, and his name as the greatest youkai thief ever would remain.

So, all of his title winning prizes were taken out of town, no one was ever the wiser, and those that mattered were happy. This was all that he cared about.

-

That day, a tall demon walked into town.

It was a low-key afternoon in Younetai - no shipments were planned for nearly four days, and the recent exploits of Youko had caused something close to a standstill of business. Visitors still walked through the streets, and venders still yelled and shouted . . . but there seemed to be a quiet, a silence that permeated everything.

The sky was shifting as usual above, the color as grey as it ever was. The makai atmosphere during the day was always the same - no matter how many blinding colors and brilliant combinations it flashed, the light always shone bleached and dull red. It seemed that there was a film over the whole world, one that only lifted when the sun had set. The colors then were amazing, red-orange and breathtaking, and at night the heavens were dazzling. Dawn was pale and delicate to the point of shattering- and then the film dropped back, and the sky was dull again. Today was not at all different.

Maybe that was why Youko hunted at night.

The demon was dressed from head to foot in loose black folds, face hidden by a tight wrapping of thin black cloth that covered even his eyes. The rest of his body was loosely robed, but he still gave the impression of great strength. The back of the hood drawn over his head pointed (as though the head beneath was pointed), and his back appeared malformed and too large beneath his clothing. Despite the hindrance, he walked with certainty and purpose.

At his side, following him with surprising obedience was a handsome pale fox, its well-groomed ruff a pure, clean white, and its eyes glinting with mischief. Its thin, angular muzzle seemed to grin unnaturally at passerbies, and it too walked with purpose and grace.

Demons stared as they passed, all eyes drawn for several seconds to the odd pair before whoever owned those eyes shook himself and decided not to stare. No one dared to speak to them, for the two seemed to radiate a strange sort of power that left a weak-willed demon quiet and instantly humbled. They moved on undisturbed among the shouting and hustling.

On they walked, silent, until finally they came to one of the taller buildings of Younetai. They paused outside of the door and glanced at one another (this seemed odd, for it looked as though the taller demon could not see with his eyes covered as they were). Then the black clothed youkai turned and entered the building, leaving the second one alone to wait.

Twenty minutes passed, and soon those new demons that had not seen the tall black youkai began to eye the fox, which, though still waiting patiently, seemed to know that it was being watched. It made no move to hide, and even settled comfortably onto its haunches in plain sight, as though enjoying the sneers and whispers surrounding it.

It was the way of the makai. Anything left alone, unattended, became free property; so it was only inevitable that the fur traders would eventually gather.

These particular youkai were considered the lowest sort of demon, even below the slave traders, because of an age-old mentality held by most of those in the fur-trading field - that being a total disregard for a long-known edict of the harvest god Inari's, stating that it was a sin to kill and skin a kitsune or youko for profit (as they were, technically, his sacred messengers). Even the mostly lawless makai population obeyed this edict (if a little grudgingly). The fur traders did not, and despite their unpopularity, it still seemed that there were just enough youkai willing to buy the furs that the traders were kept in business. A fine youko or kitsune fur was something that not many of the truly low-class would say no to- especially a white one. White was the sacred color of Inari. White was rare.

"Why don't you get him?" one trader was laughing challengingly by the time another few minutes had passed. Three had gathered, all standing a safe distance from the handsome white fox, their pelt-clad forms hunched and constantly alert from years of hunting.

"Shut up!" snapped another, "That's a mature one, he can understand you."

"He probably has a trainer," said the third.

The first snorted at that. "No trainer would be stupid enough to leave one that nice just sitting by a building in a town this busy."

"How many tails does it have . . .?" wondered the second, trying to lean around so he could see the tails (or tail) curled behind the fox.

The first trader shoved him roughly over. "Who cares? I'm going to get it right now, just watch. I'm not passing up a white one that fine."

The trader then began walking towards the fox, one hand outstretched, the other wandering inconspicuously towards his belt for the blow pipe hanging from the back, out of sight of the white creature. He waited until he stood barely a foot away, with the fox curiously sniffing his fingers, to start speaking.

"Hello there, kitsune," he crooned unattractively, beckoning slightly with the fingers and almost touching the pointed nose. His other hand closed around his weapon. "You're a handsome one-"

A crunch filled the air as the fox bit into the trader's hand, applying enough pressure to punch its teeth all the way through the skin and flesh, as far as the small, sharp fangs could puncture. The youkai was not given time to scream or even gasp in pain, as he was suddenly lifted high from the ground, the fox releasing its teeth from the trader's palm only after it had tugged a little. The trader was then turned around to gaze into the cloth-covered face of the trainer, who had emerged silently from the building while the trader had been preoccupied.

"I can't say that I blame my youko," said the demon mildly, his mid-tone voice slightly muffled, but perfectly clear. "You must not have been aware of the fact that he was mine."

The black-clad demon dropped the fur trader back to the ground, staring coldly down at him. "I-" said the shivering demon pathetically, clutching his accosted hand to his chest to slow the bleeding. "I-"

"Don't touch other people's things. I think that hand will serve as a good reminder of the lesson you've learned."

Then the youkai turned and swept away down the street. The youko, looking very smug, turned a moment later and trotted after him, occasionally licking blood from the damp fur of its muzzle.

-

Outside of the town, well away from the prying eyes and ears of the foolish inhabitants, the tall demon removed the cloth from around his head and smirked down at the white fox, silently thankful that the sun was going down, as it spared his eyes the pain brought from too much light.

"Well," he laughed merrily, "What do you think of that, Youko? No one's ever wanted to skin you before!" He began to laugh even harder. "What a fool!"

The form of the fox began to melt and shift rapidly, color changing almost imperceptibly from white to silver, until the tall, handsome humanoid version of Kurama had emerged. He looked decidedly unhappy.

"Of all the nerve!" came the angry cry as soon as his voice could be used, "Did he not see my tails? Five tails! How can you not see that? Tell me, Kuronue, how can you not see that? And I am not even a kitsune, I'm a youko - there is a world of difference between the two! Incompetent, low-class, vulgar, disgusting-"

Kuronue just grinned and shook his head at this; he could have reminded Kurama of the fact that youko had evolved from kitsune, and so were still part of the family . . . but there was no point, unless he wanted to get the other even angrier. Instead, he graciously allowed the silver thief to rant for a moment without interruption. It was when he began to repeat his curses that Kuronue finally jumped in. "They can't know everything. Besides, it was fun to see you bite him."

The youko sniffed, sitting on the ground and turning his head away imperiously. "It's an outrage," he said haughtily. "I refuse to maintain that particular disguise for several more years, Kuronue, understood?"

Kuronue shrugged at his ruffled partner. "Very well, Youko," he sighed, absently balling beneath his arm the long black cape he had worn to hide his figure, all the while blinking expectantly at his friend. "May I have my hat back?"

Kurama rolled his eyes, reaching into his loose white shirt and producing the requested item. "There," he said tersely. Kuronue smiled and took the black article from him, turning it fondly in his hands. "I don't suppose we can continue now? I'm quite bored with playing the pet."

Kuronue would have answered immediately, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he found that he could suddenly produce no sound, nor close his lips again for several seconds. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at his hat.

Somehow, in the short amount of time that the youko had been given in his humanoid form with the hat, he had replaced the old black cord with a well-made black strap, the clasp of which was a fine gold piece that glinted in the dying light. The clip was cool and smooth to the touch, and shone with an ancient quality that had Kuronue wondering exactly how old the piece was. After a moment more of study, he decided that it resembled the sun in shape, and almost looked like the clip of a geisha's obi-jime (only smaller). It was beautiful, simple and cleanly cut. Glancing up, he found that Kurama was not looking at him, instead seeming to take a keen interest in the half-set sun.

Kuronue knew better than to thank him. Youko hated having his motives called into question, and praise would only offend him. Kuronue felt oddly numb at the idea of Kurama giving him a gift in the first place, but he bit his tongue, allowed himself a small smile, and replaced the hat over his head, adjusting the strap to fit. The ensemble worked perfectly.

"Yes, Youko," he told Kurama gently, "We can go." He touched the golden clip resting over his forehead gently, rubbing at the gold back of his necklace with his free hand for comfort. That particular piece of jewelry was currently twined around his wrist, hanging safely out of harm's way.

The thief nodded, standing up and starting down the opposite side of the incline they had paused on with an irritated flick of his tails. "Finally," he muttered under his breath, "You insist on waiting for everything." He didn't look behind to make sure that his partner was following, instead heading straight towards the now blood-red sun, backlit, but still shining as pale as ever. There were no silhouettes with the youko; he always shone, no matter how softly, and in spite of all shadows.

Kuronue ignored the bristly response that Kurama had thrown at him, instead following the fox quietly into the fading sunlight. He was feeling more comfortable already, with his eyes were seeing more clearly every passing second as the light dwindled. He had actually only woken three hours before, and that was very early for him - normally, both he and Kurama slept till sunset, and went on their escapades at night. When they had to operate during the day, Kuronue was forced to wear the cloth over his eyes as he had in Younetai, to keep the sun from blinding him temporarily. It was one of the evils of being a bat demon.

The sky was clearing and glowing brilliantly as the greyness of the day receded and the untouched color of the evening began to spread. Soon the sky would be black and pricked with billions of tiny silver lights, and Youko's lands would hum quietly in the darkness. It was one of the things that had drawn Kuronue to this particular area, in spite of the danger of its owner. Most woods chattered and droned unpleasantly, but these . . . these were peaceful, serene, graceful, everything that was so appealing about the fox; he seemed to channel it all into his territory, as though to state that it was his and his entirely.

And with the youko on the mind . . . why had he given Kuronue the gift? Why in the makai would he favor someone who was only a partner so much? He tried to fathom it, and had to stop after only a minute. There was simply no answer. Without a direct question to the thief, there was no way for Kuronue to decide - it was impossible to assume or hypothesize about the decisions of a creature that worked with such random energy. So, Kuronue finally decided to simply be grateful that he was in such good graces with the fox, and left it at that.

It was silent. The quiet that Kuronue loved so much began to settle in, and the first few early stars began to appear in the purple sky. The moon had not yet risen, but Kuronue knew what to expect; it would be hair-fine, sliver thin and brighter than it was during its fullest point.

A frown crossed the bat demon's lips as he looked around, realizing suddenly that they weren't heading for the thief's den. "Youko?" One of the fox's silvery ears flickered back, the only sign at all that he was listening. "Where are we going?"

Finally, Kurama turned to look at him, and there was a smirk on his face. "To see someone that I've wanted to kill for a very long time."

-

The hut stood quietly on the edge of the Youne district, its rough-hewn edges stark in their highlighted blackness as the edge of the sun tickled the horizon behind it. It was an old hut, one that had probably been abandoned many times and inhabited again just as quickly, fused together with river clay, wood, and anything else that had been at hand during its construction.

It was not an attractive hut; smoke slipped through a tiny, crumbling chimney somewhere in its roof, and its windowless state seemed dreary and sad. It was squat and small and circular, with a door that did not look inviting in the least.

This was the door that Kurama pushed open with little or no regard, entering calmly into the little hovel, a disdainful expression on his face. Kuronue followed after, confused but refusing to show it.

The inside of the hut was no more attractive than the outside was. The fireplace was tiny and soot-blackened, and housed a small bed of flames that flickered dangerously in the draft of air that the opened door sent through the room. A collection of ragged blankets in one corner constituted the bed, and meals were obviously taken on the floor, as there was no furniture other than a low table covered in bits of parchment and stained with ink. Had there not been a fire burning, it would have been completely black inside without the opened door.

The owner of the hut was squatting before the fire, frozen in the middle of burning a stack of parchments. He was a squat demon, circular, with a potbelly and thin arms and calves. He resembled his hut to some respect. His heavy mandible had sent forth one canine that refused to be covered by either of his lips, and his hair was stringy and thin. Unusual white eyes were slitted to thin lines in his face.

Silence filled the hut awkwardly for a moment; then, strangely enough, the short demon smirked. "Youko," he said. His voice was dry and oddly ranged. It seemed like his words should have been nasal to some degree, but his voice was plain, entirely flavorless. "What a pleasure."

The thief smirked, folding his arms and shifting his weight to his left leg, tail almost brushing against Kuronue as it swished back and forth. "Hello again," replied Kurama, almost pleasantly. "What exactly would you be burning, my friend?" Kuronue stared at the youko in shock; he never addressed anyone or anything with affection unless he really liked them -such as his plants- or had something very big (and usually painful) in mind. Kuronue was willing to bet that it was the latter.

"Oh, nothing," the other demon replied bleakly, turning back to gaze heavy-liddedly at the curling edges of the paper as it burned. "What brings you here, after two whole centuries of silence? Your lands are almost five miles away."

"Let's not toy with one another," said Kurama. He was still staring at the demon, eyes narrowed and smirk firmly in place. "Why are there no shipments planned for four whole days?"

The demon laughed, and the sound was painfully stark and empty. "Slow business?" he suggested, and he almost sounded humorous. "Why would I know-"

Kurama was suddenly standing right in front of him, hand fisted into the shirt of the demon as he lifted him from the floor, high into the air. His glare was cold now. "I believe I requested a plain conversation," he purred dangerously, "None of your ridiculous dancing around or dry comments. Why are there no shipments for four days?"

The demon stared at him for several long seconds, white eyes empty and mild. "Because they've been canceled," he said finally. "Ask the right question."

Kurama growled and slammed him into the wall above the fireplace. The demon winced, gasping and coughing softly as the air was knocked harshly from his lungs.

"Tell me why they have been canceled!" Kurama growled dangerously, apparently in no mood to wait and tease information out, as he normally chose to do. "I have attacked dozens of caravans before, and the idiots have still come flocking. Why have they stopped now? What is happening outside of this district that would have them so quiet?"

The demon smiled, his one long canine lifting even higher above his lip than it usually rested. "See, there is the appropriate question. You have a knack for guessing right." He sighed, closing his eyes slowly, then opening them again. "Have you heard of Enma's golden platter?"

The youko blinked, obviously thrown for a loop by that question. "The one that the thief Anashiki stole last millennia?"

"The same one," the demon said. "The Reikai has finally won it back. They're shipping it right now - the group they have is so powerful, they've got caravans and traveling demons for miles hiding their heads and waiting out the storm."

The thief went quiet, eyes shining softly as he stared up at the demon. His golden orbs were glassy and bright, and there was a tilt to his eyebrows that betrayed his fast-working brain. Kuronue knew that he wasn't even looking at his captive; he was staring at the idea of the platter, turning over and over in his mind all the information he had gathered. It was an impressive theft. Were Youko able to steal it back again, the fame he would acquire . . .

"What route is it on?"

The demon chuckled (nothing more than a dry whisper), closing his eyes again. "You'll miss it. You're not prepared for the kind of attack it will warrant, and the time it will take you to travel to your den and gather your materials will be too great. You'll miss the group by maybe twelve hours. They're a full day and night's travel to the east by now, and they'll be finished with their shipment tomorrow afternoon."

Kurama was silent for almost a full minute with this news, frowning darkly as he considered this. Then his eyes lit again. "Then why have the caravans here been canceled for four days? If they're finished tomorrow, why shouldn't business resume the day after?"

"Because," said the demon blankly, "Reikai still hasn't opened a gate for them. The platter will be kept in one of the reikai forts until they can leave." Silence followed this for a second, and then the demon cleared his throat scratchily. "I wouldn't try to attack it if I were you. The fort is one of their most heavily guarded, the east Ansonai - they'll be armed for thievery to the eyeteeth."

The youko smirked evilly, lowering his head to stare up at his captive. "I suppose it's a good thing that you're not me, then. I'd never have any fun at all."

Pulling the demon away from the wall, Kurama threw him back to the ground, unconcerned entirely with the damage he was no doubt inflicting on the spindly youkai.

"Should I find that you've lied, I will kill you," said the fox calmly, turning his back to the white-eyed creature and heading forward into the darkness outside without another word. Kuronue glanced after him, then stared back at the demon- and frowned slightly. The youkai was smirking unnervingly, his blank eyes fixed on Kurama's back. Kuronue sent a warning glare in his direction before he turned and followed after his companion.

"Youko!"

Kurama frowned at turned to blink at Kuronue. They were several hundred yards from the hut now, walking back in the direction they had come, toward Kurama's den.

"What?" he asked, turning back to the dark trees that surrounded them. The final threads of daylight had disappeared during their exchanges with the youkai, and now everything was quiet and painted in the velvety shades of early night.

"What was that all about?" Kuronue was a little annoyed at being entirely left out of the dealings, but he didn't dare to show it too strongly.

Kurama only smirked, not looking back at his partner. "Oh, nothing . . ." He elaborated no more, and refused to say another word for the entire excursion back to the den.

But Kuronue swore, for all the rest of his life, that he heard Kurama murmur quietly under his breath; "I've always wanted to beat Anashiki . . ."

-

Night had come to the youko den with relief and peace, drenching everything in a black sort of calm. An almost thick, heavy dream-like quality spread with the darkness like a disease, heady and strange. The first sign that something was a little off came from Kurama, who retired to nap in his chair quite suddenly, despite the fact that there were still four hours left till dawn, his normal hour for sleep.

Maybe the air was just a little more humid than usual, or the sky that much darker; maybe there was another energy storm on the way, another release of the constant build up of youki through one of the unpredictably violent lighting showers that sometimes tore through the youko's lands; maybe the haze that changed the quality of the sunlight during the day had grown minimally thicker, to leave them all in more greyness than before.

Whatever it was, it touched everything, and even Kuronue was thrown out of balance by the odd feeling, so much so that he began hunting entirely out of time with his body clock. Usually he searched for food as soon as the sun finished setting, and then had one final meal an hour before it rose. Then he would go to sleep, either in Kurama's den or his own, and would not wake until the following evening. The youko followed a similar schedule, but the difference in their diets made finding sustenance much easier for Kuronue: Kurama had to hunt for live prey (preferably rabbit youkai, which he might choose to cook, or might decide to eat raw) to get the meat component of his diet, whereas Kuronue only ate fruit. This meant that he simply had to find a bush or tree that happened to be bearing ripe fruit -of which there was certainly no short supply in Kurama's lands- and his food supply for that day was taken care of.

But tonight he was hunting again, only eight hours after he had hunted before- something that was odd to say the least. This lasted for only half an hour before he stopped to wonder exactly what he was doing; that was when he fully noticed the odd feeling of the night, and it made him uneasy enough to beat a hasty retreat from the fox's nearly silent forests. So, overly full and oddly tired, he returned to Kurama's den. The night just felt different.

Glancing around the den upon entering, Kuronue made his way to the sakura tree, and found that the youko was fully asleep in his chair, curled into a large white ball; the slow, deep breaths he took making an almost audible noise, a subconscious noise that caught the ear and played with it. Kuronue shook himself when he realized that he was staring, and made his way to the spare bed (the dip in the pedestal that was filled with furs), falling into it with relief. That was yet another odd thing; normally, he would not have slept for another four hours. Instead of doing something about it, though, he simply blamed his exhaustion on eating too much food, and left it at that. Lazily he buried himself in the furs, allowing his wings to return to their larger form and fold tightly against his back, the strong, hooked claw at the joint of each appendage carelessly digging into the fur just above his shoulders.

This was much better than his own cave, which was lonely and barren; he possessions consisted of only a few articles of clothing, various weapons and weapon care equipment, his traveling pack, an old hair brush (it had been his mother's), a few books and one solitary fur, which Kurama had immediately given him upon first seeing his living conditions. The fox had impressively managed to make this into more of an insult than a gift, giving it for two clearly explained reasons; the first being that he wanted to put Kuronue in as much debt to him as possible, and second that he simply couldn't stand to see such an empty living space. Kuronue was more practical than the fox, and wasn't overly fond of decoration, but he had grown to like this particular bed over his own.

So it was very easy for him to let sleep take over, despite the fact that he was used to resting on a downward incline, with more blood in his head than was healthy for other demons, and which only put him, as a bat demon, to sleep with more speed. But that feeling of oddness still persisted . . . and things just felt different.

He had thought the youko was asleep. Kuronue himself was half gone when he heard quiet shifting from Kurama's chair, and even then, he didn't quite realize that anything was happening until he felt hands touching his left shoulder, the one that had been presented to open air when he had rolled onto his side some minutes before.

Kuronue, needless to say, came fully awake with a jolt, rolling onto his back and staring up at the white figure hovering over him. "Youko?" he hissed quietly in protest, "What are you doing?"

"You're so . . ." Kuronue stiffened at the growl in the youko's throat and tone, a pang of foreboding striking his overly full stomach. What was going on? "You're so difficult!"

A strangled gasp escaped his lips when Kurama's hand shot out suddenly, grasping him around his long white neck as he dropped to straddle the bat demon about the hips. "Why so difficult?" the youko growled darkly, claws just pricking the back of the bat demon's neck, but not drawing blood. His whole body was tensed, as though he were furious over something.

Kuronue's immediate reaction was to try and fight, but ultimately he knew much better than to move- the other was far more powerful than he was, and when in as a bad mood as he seemed to be, the best Kuronue could hope to do was reason; the youko had crushed lesser demon's necks in seconds, and he knew that his was no exception. He tried to force himself to come up with a strategy, but he couldn't make his head go there. So instead of moving or doing something sensible, the bat demon confined himself to squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. He shouldn't have let his guard down! He should have slept lightly, so that he would sense movement from the silver creature. This was what he got for thinking he could trust . . .

What had he done wrong? Why would Kurama be angry at him now? His mood had been perfectly normal earlier: pleasant, even, after visiting that white-eyed demon. Frantically, Kuronue began to search his mind for possibilities, anything to say to throw the other off- it might have been anger over the golden clip for his hat; Kuronue accepting it might have been the wrong choice in one of the youko's elaborate mind games . . . but that didn't make any sense: he had seemed satisfied when the bat had taken it. Maybe he was upset because he had had to play the part of an animal while visiting Younetai? No, that didn't make any sense either; they had used that disguise in earlier years, and he had never minded very much . . .

It took him a few impossibly long, desperate seconds full of half-mad ideas of what he might have done to realize that he hadn't been choked yet. Kurama wasn't applying pressure; he was just . . . sitting there and pinning him down. No blood; no sudden death.

Maybe he wasn't angry as Kuronue had thought? If the thief had truly been in a rage, he would have been dead twice over by now. A little confused, Kuronue stayed perfectly motionless, still wondering what in all the makai he had done to make the youkai act so strangely, keeping his eyes closed and his breath held apprehensively.

"Always difficult with me . . ."

Kuronue found himself confused still more when the youko's left hand rose and began to stroke his face gently, caressing even as his other remained in that stranglehold. Perplexed, Kuronue finally dared to look into his face, wanting to see some kind of explanation in his expression- and his mouth dropped open.

The youko's eyes were closed. They slid open for a brief second, but almost immediately drifted shut again, peacefully. His eyebrows were drawn down a little, his mouth forming a small frown; but the intensity of the expression didn't match the intensity of his voice in any way, and his eyes remained shut.

"You're asleep . . ." Kuronue whispered in disbelief.

"No," the youko purred, laying himself suddenly on top of Kuronue as his lips lifted into an almost gentle smile. "No, of course not . . . no sleeping, my difficult shadow . . ."

But his eyes were still closed, and his voice sounded far away suddenly, far too gentle for wakefulness. The outburst made sense, then; demonic dreams were more vivid than those of other creatures, though much rarer. Kuronue had heard of youkai walking and even holding conversations when their imaginings were especially powerful, and the youko . . . Kurama was dreaming about him.

But this was the best chance he was going to get to convince the other to remove himself - he couldn't waste it on his own shock. "Yes, you are," Kuronue whispered urgently, trying to push his partner away as he spoke. The other still had one hand around his throat, though. "You're dreaming!"

"Of course not . . ." came the lazy reply. His free hand was moving, but Kuronue was too focused on getting him off to pay attention to it.

A light growl simmered in his throat at this response. "Damn it, yes you are!" He couldn't believe that he was arguing with someone who was asleep! "Get up, Ku-" And the annoyance evaporated quite shockingly as a gasp escaped his lips. "Kurama . . ."

Kuronue trailed off, his brain stalled suddenly in action. Kurama's wandering hand had crept unbidden into his vest, sliding slowly over his belly and around to his back, tracing long, pale claws curiously up to his wings. Kuronue's mind was frozen; his eyes slid shut of their own accord as his grip tightened on the thief's shoulders, swallowing thickly as he bit his lips closed. Kuronue later supposed that, thrown into the situation again (and had Kurama been awake), he might have considered just letting the youko continue with whatever he liked, whether simple fondling, or anything more intimate . . . but he knew full well that Kurama was sleeping, and that he doubtlessly wouldn't remember anything the following morning. He knew just as well that he didn't want to have to deal with inevitable anger of the youko when that moment came, so stopping him before the situation progressed was the only option.

It was still harder than he had thought it would be to open his mouth; harder than he had imagined to summon words to his brain and open his eyes again. Those hands felt impossibly good against his tired wings . . . Kurama suddenly began to nuzzle against his neck, having long since released it to explore Kuronue with both hands.

That was exactly what Kuronue needed to get a hold of himself. The natural instinct to protect his neck from another's fangs kicked in, and using that, he swallowed heavily, gathering his scattered thoughts for defense and trying to ignore the fox's hands for the few precious seconds it would take to get him off. "You . . . you're sleeping, Kurama!" he hissed anxiously, tugging at the youko's shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to remove him. "You're dreaming! Stop . . . please . . . Kurama-"

Kuronue gasped as Kurama suddenly stopped. Lightning fast he freed his hands, lifted his torso away and grabbed the bat demon hard by the arms (hard enough to bruise), slamming him back into the furs and knocking the breath from his lungs. Kuronue could feel the tell tale stinging of soon-to-be marks underneath the fox demon's fingers; startled, he winced in discomfort, sucking a heavy breath of air into his lungs to accompany the sudden pain.

Kurama was growling inhumanly, an almost mad look in his glassy eyes as they opened unexpectedly; for a second he thought that the other had woken up, but something in the glazed look told him that he was still asleep. The pleasure of the previous moment was gone, and the bat demon suffered one moment of pure, unadulterated fear (more than he had ever felt in his life) as he saw the stark glare in the youko's face; Kurama wanted to kill him. It was there, clear to see - a predatory, angry stare that froze Kuronue with terror. Was this was he thought while he was sleeping?

But the expression was gone from the youko's eyes as soon as it entered. His gaze gentled as his fingers loosened their hold. His eyes were tiredly wistful suddenly, as though he had suffered an incredible loss of sleep. A soft sigh escaped his lips.

"I would regret it."

Kuronue wasn't sure that he had heard that correctly, and he never would be. There seemed to be no way that the silver youko could have possibly said something like that, no way that he could have admitted to regret of that kind . . .

Still, he had spoken, and what seemed and what didn't seem really didn't matter anymore. Kuronue, up until that point, had always believed that he was nothing more than an extra set of hands to the fox. But from that second on, he suddenly wondered, had he possibly worked hard enough to become something greater than that? Had he become something that was almost a friend? Almost an equal? It was insane . . . but he wanted it to be possible. And the youko's words . . .

He couldn't help it: he wanted to be worth something, to be an equal, and not just a tool.

The youko leaned down then, pressing his face and body against Kuronue's, tangling his limbs with the bat demons until they were entirely impossible to loosen without waking him. "Difficult . . ." he muttered grudgingly, tiredly, and said no more, wrapped thoroughly around the youkai.

Kuronue realized after several quiet, still moments that Kurama's breathing had evened out; he had gone back to proper sleep. Just as quickly as he had risen, just as easily as he had threatened and pleased, he had dropped back into unconsciousness. And Kuronue was stuck with him until the following evening.

He didn't mind.

-

A/N: Please, people, tell me if I'm tasteless! O.o I hate tasteless little shounen-ai scenes, so if something seems low-grade or over used to you, let me know, and I'll probably blast it and replace it with something better (if it can't be replaced, then that's the exception). I've never written a scene like this before, so . . . yeah. O.o I did try, though! I think I rewrote this thing about four times in the end . . . I kept adding and cutting stuff. Happily, this chapter is more the length that I like to write - the ones before this have been super short (normally I write fifteen-pagers).

To HieiWannabe: THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING/cries/ It makes me so happy, especially since I know that you've reviewed Tikia's work with very intelligent, helpful critiques. I'm proud to be the next one in line in the family to be getting more of those critiques. Furthermore, you asked EXCELLENT questions: Let me try and address them all properly.

The original fiction thing: Has been removed from the first A/N, so is no longer an issue:)

The name thing: Yes, I'm a Funimation girl . . . ;.; It's been hard for my sisters and I to get our hands on the original, beautiful episodes, and I don't go to fan sites (you're never sure if what you're reading is right or not), so I've had to make due with what I have. We own the third volume of the manga, and I read that last night - there I did find a much clearer description about Kurama's name. I've come down to this idea, basically; because Kurama thinks that he's God (as far as youko go), he insists on being called THE Youko. This is just another example of how vain our lovely character is. :P As he got more and more famous as a thief, other demons got used to calling him by the title, and the name Kurama got lost somewhere in his pretty head. Does that make sense? O.o I know that it's still technically a mistake . . . but it would be very difficult at this point to change every single use of Youko as a name, and I'm lazy . . . so it'll have to remain a mistake. O.o

The canon thing: Oh, no, I don't mean that at all! I just want people to understand what is it that I've made up, because I don't want a new viewer of the show to mistake something of mine as a fact, and then tell somebody else that it's canon. I don't take any of that stuff all that seriously either, I just like to give people the little details, because . . . that's how I am. O.o I don't mean to force-feed anybody anything.

Kuronue: No, he's not a pansy. XD Somehow, I don't think that Kurama would put up with him if he were. However, I've never read any Yu Yu Hakusho fanfiction with either Youko ('cept for The Best Defense) or Kuronue in it, so this is all entirely out of my brain. There are people who write him that way/blinks/ Disturbing . . .

Overall: I guess long notes run in the family, ne? I've got Tikia standing next to me laughing right now. :P Thank you, thank you, thank you for the positive review, and I'll do my very best to keep up with what I've started! I'm so happy that someone likes it . . . /goes off to hyperventilate in a corner for a while/

FANON/CANON

1) "Maybe that was why Youko hunted at night." - This isn't why he hunts at night. It's one of the reasons, but the main one is Kuronue; he has trouble seeing during the day (the light hurts his eyes), so Kurama has shifted his schedule to a nocturnal one.

2) The reason I talk about the sky seeming so grey is . . . well, it just seemed that way. The only episodes I've seen that take place in the makai are the ones during the Sensui saga, and from what I saw, it looked like everything was very grey (grey/red, anyway), even though the sky was so blood colored. I'm totally pulling the nighttime stuff out of my butt, though - the only world we see other than Ningenkai at night (at least through the end of the Sensui Arc) is the Reikai. We do see Sensui and Itsuki sitting beside a fire SOMEWHERE at night, but I can't be sure if that's the makai or not.

3) Younetai is mine, as is the Youne district. And the Ansonai fort. And Anashiki. In fact, so is the weird demon . . . so be nice: no stealing.

4) "Hello there, kitsune." - Kurama isn't a kitsune. The fur traders aren't very smart . . . or, at least the one who tried to grab him isn't. (11/12/04 - There will be a much more extensive note addressing this issue that will be posted in chapter five).

5) "When they had to operate during the day, Kuronue was forced to wear the cloth over his eyes as he had in Younetai, to keep the sun from blinding him temporarily." - This is my own theory. I figure, since Kuronue's a bat demon, he gets all the baggage that goes with it. Kuronue CAN see during the day, but it's not a matter of seeing, it's a matter of how well. He could see during the day if he had to, but it would still hurt, and I think instantaneous, bright light would cause him to lose his eyesight for a while.

I also think that, like a bat, he is equipped with a second sense of sight so that he can still operate - that being sound waves. Kuronue doesn't exactly squeak - at least not by using his mouth. Some bats can create the sounds waves through their noses, and by making this the way Kuronue operates, I can keep him from having to stand there gaping like an idiot. :P The sound is almost imperceptible, and it creates an accurate picture in his mind (using depth, density, etc., implied by the change in the sound when it bounces back to him). This explains the cloth over his face; he can send the sound waves through thin clothing, which means that he can protect his eyes during the day without much difficulty. It's an inconvenient way to see, however, so he simply remains nocturnal.

6) "After a moment more of study, he decided that it resembled the sun in shape, and almost looked like the clip of a geisha's obi-jime (only smaller)." - An obi-jime is the piece of cord that is wrapped around the obi in the final step of tying, and is usually only knotted, without any kind of clip to hold it shut (obi tying is a long, complicated process that varies depending on the type of knot you're making, whether you're single or not, etc, etc...). Now, I'm not entirely sure about this, but in one of the old photographs that I've seen (which was taken in Japan in the late 1800s), there are two young geisha who have golden clips securing their obi-jime. Can anyone elaborate on this for me?

7) To all those who were confused by Kurama's little sleepwalking moment, let me say, it CAN happen. Just because you're half awake and talking to someone in your sleep doesn't mean that you're conscious. My sister Tyries took an overdose of Dramamine once, and she started hallucinating about a pair of scissors on the floor of the car. To this day, she doesn't remember doing it, but I know it happened because I was the one talking to her. I know that this stuff can happen, so no saying, "But, but, how were they holding a conversation?" It works.

8) As to everyone who was probably wondering what the hell that final scene was about (the weird atmosphere of the night, and all), I've decided that it was the precursor to a storm; not a lightning storm (you get one of those later!), but a storm all the same. I'm sure you've all felt that funky sort of tingle that comes sometimes before a bad rain storm, right?

9) "Whereas Kuronue only ate fruit." - Yes, I have decided to make him a fruit bat. Why? Because I couldn't think of anything better . . . and because I wanted to have some fun with the character ;). Also, I really couldn't think of a way to make him eat bugs without it being entirely gross, so I went for fruit instead. I guess I could have made him a vampire bat, but . . . come on. O.o

11) I've now worked out the order of posting! All chapters will be posted on Friday nights, and will appear (probably) on Saturday mornings. Posts will never be made in a shorter amount of time than this, but I may take longer for some of them, considering that this is a work in progress. Bear with me. I really don't want to rush, and then end up turning out crap O.o.

12) "Color changing almost imperceptibly from white to silver." - Kurama is a silver youko, but to better his disguise, he changed himself from silver to white. Togashi says in volume three that youko are masters of illusion, so I'm pretty sure that I can do this.

13) Kuronue told Kurama about the shipments being canceled on their walk to the hill outside of the village, but Kurama didn't address it right away because he was still too angry at the fur traders. After he had vented for a while, he remembered what Kuronue had said, and then headed off for the white-eyed demon.