Chapter ten sorry
No matter how many times you say Sorry, it will not fix anything.
He was chained in a gray fuzz that was more terrifying in it's absolute nothingness than the forest of bleeding trees had been. His chains were not iron, but…he couldn't see them at all, what were they?
There was Hiei! Something to ground him in this field where he couldn't tell in he upright or upside down, lying flat, or vertical. He couldn't tell if the world around him was holding still. When he opened his mouth to call to Hiei, no sound escaped him.
There was just the two of them in this strange place, nothing less, nothing more. He looked closer at Hiei, and recoiled in despair that left him gasping and sobbing, blood dripping from his face, where two cuts had appeared, an X.
Hiei was dead, his throat had been slit. Kurama wondered if it had hurt, then gasped again as the cuts on his cheek began to spread.
They were alive! The crawled, growing, like gaping red veins, unable to contain their crimson liquid. The wounds spread, covering his face like veins on a leaf. They moved down to his neck, and he felt dizzy from loss of blood.
His entire body was red with blood welling from a million wounds.
And he smiled, for now he could follow Hiei, just as he had promised. A single tear, not water but blood, ran down his cheek.
Kurama rolled over, awake, but not wishing to see what he was sure would be the Reikai. He blinked his eyes, opening them with resignation to see, not a new world, but his room.
"Hhh…" He tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry, no real word escaped it. He sat up, reaching for the cup of willow bark tea by his bed. His head was pounding, which meant the last dose had worn off.
"What a terrible dream." he muttered. Someone scrambled to their feet in a hurry, rushing to his side. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see anyone. He remembered, suddenly, what had happened the last night.
"Hiei, no…" He curled up on the bed, as a tear fell from his eyes, squeezed shut. The someone from the corner tapped his shoulder, without a word. He opened his eyes, and unclenched his body, wincing at the bruises he had somehow acquired. He was too sick to care about showing weakness.
"You're okay!" It wasn't Skye's voice, or Silverbough's. He raised his head, hardly daring to believe that it might be true. Hiei, he was alive! He was okay!
"You're alive. Oh, god, I thought you…" he couldn't finish the sentence, not wanting to say the words he knew were there. Died. Hiei gently held him, unsure of what to do. He didn't normally show affection.
"What-" Hiei clenched his teeth, trying to contain himself, then continued in a carefully calm voice, that said he was very angry indeed. "What the… what were you doing out looking for me so sick. In the rain. Explain."
"It's a good thing I did, or you might not be here. I might ask the same. I saw you with that sword…what were you thinking?" He sighed heavily. "Don't tell me, I don't want to know."
Hiei gently set him down on the bed, where he immediately fell asleep. If he was sicker than usual because he had gone searching in the rain…That would be bad. He didn't know what he would do if Kurama died…probably die himself.
The two had supported each other when there was nothing left. Never before had they fought…as friends anyway. When they first met, there was plenty of fighting. But they had been through so much together.
It was like a stone arch, with the keystone as their friendship. Without, both sides would crumble and fall, yet if the arch suddenly lost a side, they keystone would not keep the other side standing.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, tiled with large, flat stones. A woman came down, carrying a tray. She wore the yellow robes of an apprentice, and he stepped in her path to halt her.
"Where is Wingthorn?" he snapped icily.
"In ward three. But… be careful. That ward is for madmen, literally. Wingthorn is the only one who is willing to tend them. Those are the ones who went insane from their own experiments, or from…severe trauma."
Without waiting for him to reply, she resumed her brisk walk.
He pushed open the doors of the nearest ward, and walked down the hallway. He found the common room – odd as it's presence might be – and saw men and woman standing idly there, as well as Wingthorn herself.
"Wingthorn." he barked coldly. "Kurama needs help." Just because the woman was helping Kurama did not mean he had to get to know her. Many people had helped him in the past, and not all even survived it. Let alone making a friend out of it.
"And why didn't you ask an apprentice, or someone, anyone other than me?" she demanded. "I am the head of this hospital, and the only one who will tend these poor people." Hiei waited, impatient.
Wingthorn sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I am coming." She murmured something to the woman who was clutching her robes in terror at the sight of Hiei.
"Who was that woman, why was she so afraid of me?" he asked with curiosity as they walked.
"Oh, don't you know?" she asked with a nasty curl to her lip. She was beginning to hate him, he could tell. "For her own safety I'll not tell you her name. She went mad when she saw her whole family murdered in the chapel. And who, do you know, murdered them?" Her cold, sharp words cut him, and she moved faster so as to be away from him.
"I'm sorry." He said the words with some difficulty, he was not used to apologizing. He rarely regretted anything he did, but he definitely regretted this. She whirled sharply to face him, and stuck a finger in his face.
"Sorry? Sorry? Will sorry bring any one of those people back from Reikai? Will sorry save that woman from her madness? Tell me, will sorry clean the blood off of the steps of that holy place? Will it console the friends of those children, who will be just now learning that their schoolmates will never, ever come back? Tell me, can it save your soul? I hope it can make you run fast, because when Koenma discovers you are still alive, you'll need to run harder than ever before.
"Children, Hiei, young ones just barely starting out in this world, and you have already sent them to the next. What gives you the right to do that? Adults would be bad enough, but that woman lost her three little girls that night, right before her eyes. And her husband, brother, and parents. All while she hid in terror beneath the pews. Will sorry make any of that, any of it better?"
By the time she had stopped her speech, she was no longer angry, no longer pointing that finger, the one he had stared at as though it were a gun, in his face. Instead, she was on her knees, weeping. For not only those he had killed, but for him as well, he knew.
Why would anyone ever cry for him?