A/N: I thought of this earlier last week. The title I borrowed from a book I read last year, a rather odd book that I didn't quite get, but the title befits this story too. This story only shares the title of that book, and nothing else. Let me know how you guys like it.
As I Lay Dying
November 26, 2005
Edited: November 2007
Summary: They say that as a person lays on the brink of death their life, or the more monumental parts of it, flashes before their eyes. Kurama's thoughts in the ambulance.
Disclaimer: I own neither the manga/anime Yu Yu Hakusho nor the book As I Lay Dying. The former belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi, and I borrowed the characters; the latter belongs to William Faulkner, and I borrowed the title. The ideas for this one-shot and the story is accompanies are mine. Don't bother suing, I've got nothing your lawyer would really want.
-------
"Murderers! MURDERERS!""Will somebody please sedate that old man?" grumbled a police officer as Daddy-O pelted them with whatever object he could find on the ground.
"What did you do to him?!" shouted Toguro, seeing who was on the stretcher. He tried rising to his feet, but was restrained by a number of paramedics and Yukina and Bui.
"Please calm down, everybody; she'll be taken to the hospital immediately."
"He!" Daddy-O corrected harshly, eyeing the police and the ambulance crew suspiciously.
"Pardon?"
"Kurama's a man," Yukina explained. "He's a cross-dresser."
Several of the paramedics donned startled or disgusted looks; however, the woman addressing Daddy-O and the gangsters didn't bat an eye. "Okay," she said. "He'll be taken to the hospital immediately."
Toguro merely grunted, watching as they loaded the redhead into the ambulance.
The female paramedic got into the vehicle beside the wounded transvestite. "Stay with me, sir," she coaxed a barely conscious Kurama.
"Sir?" exclaimed one of the paramedics, a young man, making a face.
"Grow up!" another man snapped.
"Sir, my name is Sumi," the woman continued. "What is your name?" she asked, trying to keep him conscious.
He struggled to breathe. "… Shuichi…"
"Mother," the young redheaded boy said. "Mother, are you awake?"
Shiori Minamino opened her eyes. "Yes, Shuichi, I'm awake."
"Come here; I want to show you something."
Puzzled, Shiori allowed the boy to take her hand and lead her out to the back yard. "What is it, Shuichi?"
The boy pointed. "Look, Mother."
She did, and gasped. "Oh my!"
Shuichi beamed. "Happy Mother's Day, Mother," he said, whilst she stared in amazement at the lovely young rose bushes resting in a neat row in a newly dug flowerbed along the house.
"Open the drawer!" snarled the man from behind his ski mask.
The girl trembled behind the counter, unsure of what to do.
"I said open it!" The masked man drew out a gun.
"Leave her alone," Shuichi said from his register. "Excuse me for a moment," he said to the man waiting to check out. He approached the group of young men antagonizing the girl. "I won't stand for a bunch of thugs waltzing in here bullying the employees!"
One of the men slammed him against the counter. "You think you're some kind of tough guy, boy?" Shuichi drew a breath as he felt the cold metal of the gun's barrel touch his head. "How about I blast out those arrogant brains of yours?"
Shuichi shut his eyes, and flinched when he heard an explosive sound; however, he felt no bullet enter his skull. Curious as to why he wasn't dead, he opened his eyes. The man who had a moment before threatened to kill him had backed away, looking past him with a frightened expression upon his face. Confused, Shuichi looked behind him.
The man whom Shuichi had left at his register had approached the group, holding a revolver pointed straight up into the air. Now he lowered it, pointing it at the thugs. "My, my, those are rather brave words," said the man, "especially considering how they come from a little boy who doesn't have the balls yet to show his face." From beneath the brim of his odd hat a cross between a smirk and a snarl could be seen. "I dare you to make one more move against him."
The thug snickered behind his mask. "And why should I be scared of you?"
In answer the man pulled back his hat so that his face was exposed. "Because, I'll kill you if you don't," he said nonchalantly. "Now get the hell out."
Shuichi couldn't recall ever seeing the store empty so quickly. "Are you okay?" he asked the other cashier, wondering why the sight of a man's face would scare off the would-be robbers.
"He just had his life threatened," remarked the man, "and still he has the compassion to inquire about the well-being of others. How admirable." He observed Shuichi. "Now, are you okay?"
"Um … y-yes," he stammered. This man was practically a boy still himself, a few years older than Shuichi at most. "Why'd you help me?"
"Well, bullies like that give true vagabonds like myself a bad rep." He shrugged. "And … I admire your guts. 'Sides," he smiled, "if they'd killed you, how'd I pay for my dinner?" He laughed as Shuichi stared. "Smile; you'll live longer."
It may have been simply due to the relief of not dying, but Shuichi began to laugh almost hysterically. "Who are you?" he asked the vagabond.
"My name's Kuronue." He messed with his hat. "And of course everybody around here knows who you are. See you around, Shuichi Minamino."
"Want a sip?" Kuronue asked.
Shuichi eyed the drink. "What is it?"
"It's just some sake. The bar tender's an acquaintance of mine; sometimes I get free drinks if he's in the charitable mood."
The redhead shook his head. "I don't think I should."
"Hey," Kuronue shrugged, "more power to you. Liquor's bad for people anyway—it makes idiots out of the smartest of people, and it's addictive." He smirked. "But of course, I can handle it just fine." He took a swig. "Do you want more to eat?"
"I'm fine," Shuichi replied.
A loud crash attracted both of their attention; two men were engaged in a fistfight, one having just slammed the other into a table.
"Ooh man, is it that time already?" Kuronue commented, making a face.
"Is it what time?" Shuichi asked.
"Time for us to leave. This is that time of night when the real rough crowd comes in; this probably isn't a good place for you to be, or even for me. Let's go." He led Shuichi out the back way, into the alley behind the tavern. "My apologies," the vagabond said. "I know this isn't the ritziest place in town."
"It's fine," he told Kuronue hastily. "… May I ask you a question?"
"Shoot."
"That night with those thugs, and all those other times you've shown up, and tonight…" He trailed off, wondering how he should word his thoughts. "This here, tonight, us two here, right now … is this a date?"
Kuronue looked down at him. ('What a lovely shade of blue,' Shuichi thought unconsciously.) "Well, it can be, if you want it to," he said slowly. "And if not, well—that's fine too. I wouldn't dream of trying to make you do something that you didn't want to do. I won't be ashamed or secretive about the fact that I like guys like that, but if you don't, and just want to be friends," he shrugged, "that's cool. Either way, I still think you're an awesome person." He smiled. "Your move."
Shuichi blinked. "I … well…"
"If you need time to think about it, that's fine too." Another shrug. "I'm sorry if I sprang something on you that you weren't expecting."
"No!" he said hastily. "It's fine." He smiled at Kuronue. "I think you're an awesome person, too … and maybe I like you like that, too."
"… Where … are we going…?" Kurama asked absently.
"We're taking you to a hospital," Sumi informed him. "Just hang in there."
"…Uh-huh…." He coughed, tasting blood in his mouth.
"Hey you," Kuronue smiled, eyeing Shuichi hovering shyly by the office door. "Want something to eat?" He held up half a sandwich.
"Um, no thank you." Shuichi smiled nervously, uncomfortable around all the mechanics—friends and co-workers of Kuronue—whom he barely knew.
"Let's go upstairs, shall we? Shut up!" He banged his fist on the table, silencing a few idiotic chuckles. "Any of you got a problem with this? Do I laugh when your girlfriends come visit? Daddy-O, I'll be back in a bit." Kuronue made a half-wave to the boss mechanic, who casually returned the gesture before resuming his conversation with another one of his employees, and then he led Shuichi upstairs. "You look a little down," he commented to the redhead. "What's up?"
"I got my report card today."
"So? What was your worst grade?"
"I got a 97 in English," Shuichi lamented.
Kuronue rolled his eyes. "I ain't hearing this," he grumbled. "Cheer up, Kurama." Shuichi gave him a Look. "What? It's a compliment." He sat on the bed, inviting Shuichi to take a seat with a hand gesture.
Shuichi sat beside him and leaned his head on Kuronue's shoulder. "I received another call from the University."
"Your mother must be pleased. Any idea which college you want to go to yet?" He looked out the window. "It's gonna rain," he commented, crawling over the back of the hide-a-bed's couch part so he could shut the window partially.
Shuichi shook his head. "No. But I have some time left to think about it still…" He crawled over and pulled Kuronue's pony tail loose, and then began playing with his hair. "I was thinking of growing mine out," he murmured. "What do you think?"
"I think, whatever you like. Hey now"—Shuichi had begun nibbling on his neck from behind—"cut that out." He turned around and smiled at the redhead. "I can't go back to work all hot, you know?"
"I know—but I'll take care of that." He gave Kuronue a sly look, at the same time guiding the mechanic's hands to his belt.
Kuronue raised his eyebrows. "So, you're ready then?" he asked even as he undid Shuichi's buckle.
"Uh-huh," replied Shuichi, wriggling awkwardly out of his pants. Kuronue stared at him. "What?" he asked, suddenly nervous.
His boyfriend grinned. "Nothing. You're beautiful is all."
He was vaguely aware of the ambulance crew talking.
"… pierced his heart…"
Kurama began coughing uncontrollably, blood dribbling out of his mouth.
Shuichi sat on the curb, head cradled in his hands. He ran one hand over his cheek, where though the mark had by now faded, the sting of the slap still lingered.
'Why did … How could she?' When had his mother's mind become so poisoned? He eyed his bag of belongings, feeling numb and tired and like the world had just ended.
'Would you like some of my clothes too? You seem to like everything else that only women should! Faggot! Sodomite! Pervert! Did I do something wrong? Is it because there's no man in the house? There's something psychologically wrong with you! Wrong! Those sorts of feelings are wrong! You've been to church enough times to know that! Do you want to get AIDS? Homo! Get out!'
Surely there'd been more insults, screaming, self-righteous bigoted preaching, before that final "Get out!" He knew there had been, but he couldn't recall them word for word at the moment, and didn't really care to. He'd never thought in his wildest dreams that his mother, his mother, would react like that when he told her he was in love … or rather, who he was in love with.
"Shuichi?"
The redhead looked up. The porch light of Yomi's house illuminated both boys; Yomi was standing on the sidewalk, a garbage bag in one hand. He was in his pajamas. "What are you doing out here this late? And have you been crying?"
"Um, yeah, I have." He wiped his eyes. "Yomi, do you think I'm perverted?"
"Huh? No. Is something wrong?"
"With me?" His stomach and throat both tightened, making it hurt to breathe even. "Ask my mother." He gathered up his belongings and walked down the street, toward the only possible home and family he might have left.
Mother, what happened? We were so happy, you and I, once. Were you always so ignorant and hateful, and I was simply too trusting to notice? Or did you change at some point, and I wasn't aware of it? Mother, could you have really hated me? Why didn't you disown me, make sure that when you died I received nothing, if you really hated me? Did you ever regret those things you said to me? Did you ever regret throwing me out? I tried to hate you, for everything you did, but I never could. There were those happy times, before that night, that try as I might, I couldn't disregard. And if I couldn't come to completely hate you, then perhaps you could never completely hate me either … Mother, when you died, did you think of me at all, your bright redheaded son, before you shut your eyes forever?
Kuronue sat on the edge of the bed. "Daddy-O's going to order some take-out," he said. "He wanted to know if you wanted anything in particular."
"I'm fine, thank you," said the form curled up on the bed.
The mechanic tried to smile. "So, anything's fine with you then?"
"I'm not hungry," Shuichi said quietly.
"School's coming up soon," Kuronue continued, frowning at his boyfriend's statement. "You looking forward to it?"
"I'm not going back."
Kuronue blinked. "Why not?" he asked, concerned.
"I just don't want to," he said. "That part of my life is over." He bit his lip as tears filled his eyes.
"Only if you let it be over," Kuronue argued. "You can still go to school; you're still as smart and brilliant now as when you were living with your mother."
"Please don't mention her."
"My point is that you could go really far, if you had the willpower to; college is still an opportunity, if you want it, and who knows what afterward…? You can still do all of that; nothing's changed."
"No, Kuronue," Shuichi said. "There is nothing after college, because there will be no college. And there will be no more school. I'm not going back."
This earned a frown. "My boss is worried about you," Kuronue told him. "All those guys down there are. They've seen how thin you are; they told me that they wonder where that shy little smile of yours went." He rubbed Shuichi's back. "I know you're feeling depressed, but right now you really need to eat. We can continue talking about academics later."
"I told you, I'm not hungry." Shuichi curled into a ball, burying his face into one of the pillows.
He felt Kuronue's weight leave the mattress, and heard his boyfriend go back downstairs. Shuichi lay alone in the loft for several minutes, when he heard somebody enter the room. "Shuichi, sit up," Kuronue said. "Please." He sounded tired.
Feeling bad that he was the cause for the mechanic's weariness, Shuichi fulfilled the request. "What's that?" he asked, eyeing the bowl Kuronue carried.
"You're making yourself waste away," Kuronue said. He sat down beside the redhead. "I want you to eat this; you don't even have to chew it or anything. Just swallow." He held a spoon to Shuichi's lips.
"What…?" Shuichi began to ask—as Kuronue took advantage of the moment and placed the utensil in his mouth. He made a face and spat: Kuronue was trying to feed him baby food!
"It's nutritious, and I ground up extra vitamins into it," Kuronue said, defending the meal he'd made for the redhead. "I don't want you to get sicker. I can't afford to take you to a hospital if you do, and then you'll only get worse if that happens."
Kuronue's voice carried a pleading, desperate tone that Shuichi thought was beneath the normally self-assured, if slightly cocky, mechanic. It made the redhead feel guilty. "Okay," he said resignedly, giving in and, though he hated it, allowing Kuronue to feed him the sloppy concoction.
"His lungs are filling with blood."
"… What'd he say?" Kurama asked. He tried to move his head, but discovered he was unable to. They'd somehow put him in a neck brace without his noticing.
"Um, nothing," Sumi said, flashing him a fake smile.
"…Oh." Kurama knew she was lying.
"Holy shit!" laughed the mechanic. "I always told you he'd make a pretty girl, Kuronue!"
Kurama stole a glance at Kuronue and his co-worker; the other mechanic, whose name the redhead had forgotten, looked as though he may die of laughter, while Kuronue wore a look that suggested he was growing angry and/or annoyed. He quickly looked down at the floor, feeling his face grow really hot.
"Ouch!" yelled the mechanic, falling back against the doorframe and holding his jaw. "What'd you do that for?" he demanded angrily, glaring at Kuronue.
"For being a dumb-ass!" Kuronue snarled. "Now, don't you ever let me catch you being stupid like that again, unless you want to take in all your nourishment through a straw from now on. I for one happen to think he looks hot!"
"You would," mumbled the other mechanic.
"Get out!" growled an aggravated Kuronue. "And tell Daddy-O I might be late coming back from my break!" Though he still looked angry, there was a smirk upon his face.
"K-Kuronue?" Kurama inquired timidly.
"Hm?" Kuronue turned around, eyeing the redhead. The angry look immediately disappeared from his face. "You never told me you were into that," he said, looking Kurama up and down, observing the women's lingerie he was wearing.
"I … I didn't know I was," the redhead admitted, embarrassed.
"Well … it looks good on you," Kuronue informed him, smiling.
"Huh?"
"I'll give the dumb-ass this: he was right when he said you make a pretty girl."
Kurama frowned. "I don't want to be a girl," he said.
"Who said you have to be?" Kuronue asked, furrowing his brow. "Did I say that? You don't have to be a girl—I'm just saying that if you were you'd be a very pretty one. A very hot one."
The redhead bit his lip, looking thoughtful. "How hot?" he asked shyly.
The smirk returned to Kuronue's face. "Get over on that bed, and I'll show you."
"Damn it!" Kuronue exclaimed.
"What?" asked a frightened Kurama.
Kuronue wrapped his arms around the redhead, hugging him tightly, and then pushing him away as hard as he could. "Run!"
Kurama did, sobbing hysterically and throwing up over the ground and himself as he heard the sickening sound of a machine gun.
Kuronue, I'm sorry. If I had listened to you and gone on to college, perhaps we wouldn't have had to stay in the downtown after everything went to shit. Maybe we could have moved somewhere else and made a better life for ourselves, and none of this would have ever happened. Perhaps the two of us could have grown old together and lived so long we'd be content, and then embrace death not because we were weary of life, but because we were content that we'd lived it to its fullest, to the point that it couldn't be lived anymore. Perhaps that would have been nice, living to the point where we were completely useless, huh? Instead of being cut down due to horrible luck or misunderstanding? I'm so sorry for being a burden to you, though you smiled and never complained, because you loved me. And for that, along with everything else, I'll always love you.
"Shuichi," Sumi said. "We'll be at the hospital real soon, okay?"
"… Do they have a morgue?" Kurama asked wryly, red trickling out his mouth.
"That won't be necessary," she said hastily, trying to look reassuring.
Kurama afforded a small, bloody laugh. "Optimism is wasted on the pessimist, darling."
"Are you Toguro?"
"Yes, ma'am," the giant of a man said. "Otouto Toguro."
He smirked. "I'm a male."
"Oh. Sorry. We're here to see the Yoko."
"Speaking." He smirked at the expression on the man's face this announcement elicited. "Well, forgive me for not being a wimpy-assed fairy. You'll have to cleanse your mind of such prejudiced toxins if you plan to work with me. Who are they?" he asked, pointing to Toguro's three companions.
"My brother, Ani." He gestured to a little creature the Yoko thought looked a little like a human spider. "Bui." A man in the back who didn't entirely seem to want to be there. "And—"
"Karasu," said a tall, gaunt man who reminded the Yoko of a vampire. "A pleasure to meet you," he said in an oily voice.
"Uh-huh," muttered the Yoko, not liking the predatory gleam in Karasu's eyes.
"Forgive me if I sound out of line," Karasu said, "but why do you wear women's clothing, when you're not a woman?"
"Because I feel like it," replied the Yoko testily. "What's it to you?"
"You know they have operations now that could turn you into a woman."
"You are out of line," the Yoko commented. "I'm happy there are such operations, for people who feel they should be the sex opposite of what they were born as. But I'm not one of those people. I like to dress like a woman, but I don't want to be one."
"Really..." Karasu muttered. "It must be hard, huh, leading an entire gang on your own?"
"My, but don't you have the talent of jumping all over the place, asking things that are none of your business?" The Yoko decided he really didn't care too much for this companion of Toguro's, even if his abilities would be an asset to the Youkai. "Things you have absolutely no idea about."
"Oh, I may have an idea or two, Shuichi," Karasu said with a smirk on his lips.
The Yoko paused in mid-drink, choking on his vodka. "Wh—What did you just call me?" he asked, bewildered.
Before he knew what was happening, Karasu had pushed him onto his back, pressing him into the mattress. "I believe you heard what I just called you, Shuichi," he rasped, grabbing the hem of the Yoko's skirt and tearing it.
Karasu, you bastard. You affliction. I don't know how you ever found out so much about me, but I really don't care now. You intimidated me; you used me; you abused me. You ruined the gang that Kuronue and I created; you knew my body in a way that he also did, though in a completely different fashion—you hated where he loved, you destroyed where he nurtured. I hate you; I hate you that you could make me feel so rotten and useless. But you're dead now, and I'm glad. Who knows? Maybe Kuronue's gone down to hell to kick your ass for me even as I lay here now. That'd be funny.
"What is that?" Toguro asked.
"Nothing."
"Let me see it."
"It's nothing," the redhead insisted. "Leave it alone."
"Let me see," the giant said, pulling up Kurama's shirt.
"Stop it!" he yelled, struggling.
"HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD THAT!" Toguro exclaimed angrily, staring at a large, ugly bruise on his companion's side.
"Not—not too long…."
"I'll kill Karasu."
"No, you won't," Kurama told him. "He's too valuable to the gang—"
"He's destroying the gang," Toguro said. "He's bringing in his own thugs and you're letting him get away—"
"Stop it!" Kurama said. "I'm aware of what he's doing. He's completely demeaned every principal the Youkai was founded upon," he stated softly, fingering a chain that disappeared into his shirt. "He's taking over; I realize I'm little more than a puppet…." Tears welled up in his eyes.
"Um, don't be so hard on yourself," Toguro said, uncomfortable. "How often does he give you bruises like that?"
"Not too often," the transvestite replied softly.
"Why do you let him treat you like that?"
Kurama shrugged, not really wanting to think about it. "Maybe I put up with it because I want companionship…."
Toguro tensed. "…You know I'd love to make you happy, but I'm not…" He trailed off uneasily.
The redhead laughed nervously. "You thought I was asking you to…?" Still laughing, he shook his head. "No, Otouto, I would never ask such a thing of you; I know how that feels. No. That'd be stupid and selfish and hypocritical of me to ever ask that of you or anybody else. You turning gay is just as impossible as me turning straight." He heaved a sigh, and tried to smile reassuringly at the giant.
Toguro, you were always so concerned for me, though you were not my lover, and never would be. And always so loyal, even when I let that bastard Karasu get the better of me and take over everything, you wouldn't forsake me, even when it may have been in your best interest. He shot you, didn't he, the asshole? You'd better be okay, my giant friend, or I may never forgive myself.
"You're the Yoko?" the businessman asked.
Kurama laughed. "Not what you expected?"
"Well … no," replied to one Toguro said was called Sakyo. "Though I suppose the title 'Yoko' would fit a femme fatale, or a femme fatale impersonator—no offense."
"None taken," replied the cross-dresser. "Now what does a respectable businessman such as yourself find so important that you're willing to be caught up with folk like myself?"
Sakyo laughed. "Respectable businessman? Be he a true businessman, then to refer to him as a respectable businessman is practically an oxymoron."
"Oh? And are you a true businessman, Mr. Sakyo?"
"To the bone," the "true businessman" replied shamelessly. "I don't like posers who pretend they're so pure, Yoko."
"Call me Kurama," he said, liking Sakyo's refreshing honesty. "What do you wish the services of the Youkai for?"
"Oh, simply some help in removing a little competition from the market."
"Really? Whatever happened to there being nothing wrong with a little healthy competition?"
"When that competition grows at a phenomenal rate and wields immense power, I no longer find it so healthy," Sakyo told him dryly.
"What is this competition?" asked an intrigued Kurama.
"Makai Enterprises. Among other things, they have control over all the known mines that yield Hiruseki stones."
Kurama let out an impressed whistle. "And have you an idea regarding the downfall of this competition, or is that my job?"
Sakyo withdrew a wrinkled photograph from his pocket. "I have reason to believe he's the strength to that monopoly. Remove him, and weaken the competition."
The redhead examined the photograph. 'What lovely eyes…' he thought to himself. "What's his name?"
"Hiei Jaganshi."
"How's Hiei?" he asked. His breathing sounded really liquid.
"Mr. Jaganshi?" Kurama nodded. "He'll be fine."
He smiled, knowing this time she wasn't lying. "Good. Are we almost there?"
She nodded. "Almost."
"I'm going to die," he stated flatly, daring her with his eyes to lie to him again.
She bit her lip, and then slowly nodded, as though ashamed to admit it. "Probably."
"Why are you crying?" he inquired, seeing her bright eyes. Few people he'd known, let alone a complete stranger, would have cried for him. "It's not so bad. That's one of the benefits to being a pessimist. Sure, statistics claim that we live shorter lives, but I suppose that if we always expect the worst, then we can never truly be disappointed, huh?" He laughed, which turned into a hacking cough as he began to spit up more blood.
Kurama watched from right outside the window as Hiei fought with his sister, Yukina. It amused him somewhat, how they threw petty insults at one another. They pretended that there truly was hatred there, but he, who was familiar with producing and receiving that emotion all too much, sensed none of it among the two. He waited until Yukina had stormed out of the room, and then climbed back inside.
"What was that about?" he asked Hiei.
The Koorime stared at him. "How much of that did you hear?" he asked.
"All of it." He sneezed. 'Was that what it was like to hear me and Karasu fight?'
"She hates me."
"Does she now?" He sneezed again.
"Well, you heard everything she said."
"True. And I didn't hear her once say, 'I hate you, Hiei,' or anything resembling that. Did I hear wrong?"
Hiei appeared thoughtful. "No…" he said slowly. "No, you didn't."
Hiei, why do you want to create hatred where there is none? Why would you be so willing to throw away such a special relationship? Wrong was committed unto you, but that doesn't mean that you have to turn around and commit wrong in return. It won't make you happy in the end, even when the ties with the wrongdoer are irreparable….
"She wants to blame me for her misfortune," Hiei grumbled. "I've suffered just as much, haven't I?"
"From what you've told me, probably. But she was never in a position to help you; she was just a little kid like you, right?" He didn't allow Hiei time to answer. "But now you, you're doing pretty good, aren't you? Ever given anything back to the Koorime?"
"No … I've thought about it before, several times, but…"
Kurama shrugged. "So? You and your mother were shunned due to the Koorime distrust of the outside world, right? So show them that not everybody from the outside world is out to screw them every which way."
"Not everybody from the outside world is out to screw them every which way," Hiei said defensively.
"Yeah? Really? That's the problem with some groups: they know that not all of them are bad, but when do they ever stand up over the crowds and scream so everybody can hear them that what their more wicked affiliates are doing is wrong and should be stopped? And then they have the nerve to bitch about being categorized. Christians bitch about being categorized as overly-zealous radical jerks, but when was the last time you ever saw the rational ones band together to speak out against the hateful fanatics?"
'Where were the rational ones when their Christ-warping counterparts demonized me?' he thought bitterly. 'Where were they to defend me, to love me, to accept me, to include me, when I was told I was a faggot and a sodomite and a sinner and a pervert? When I was told that there was something wrong with me, that I needed to change? Where were they to talk down those hate-mongers, they that quoted a Book whose message they had completely missed, warped almost beyond recognition? Where was the holy person to comfort me when Kuronue was murdered, to say a prayer, to make sure his spirit rested easily, to make me feel better? Who was there for me to turn to when I had nobody left?'
He looked over at Hiei, to whom he'd still been speaking while his mind had wandered, and a feeling that was partially resentment came over him momentarily. "You bitch about the Koorime hating you for being an 'outsider'," he continued tersely, "but when have you ever made the effort to show them that not all the outsiders are out to exploit them?"
"May I write something?" he asked. "There's something I need to make sure somebody knows, and who knows if I'll have another chance?" He smiled as she winced. People could be so uncomfortable with the truth.
From somewhere she produced a notebook and a pen. "I can write it for you," she offered.
"Nonsense," he said firmly. "I'll write it; I'm not dead yet."
She reluctantly gave in, holding the notebook still for him as he wrote. It took him longer than he had anticipated, as the page seemed blurry to him and his hands were shaking horribly. He finally finished, letting the pen drop gracelessly. "Thank you," he said to the paramedic. "Make sure he gets that."
"Of course," she reassured him. "Who am I giving this to?"
"… To Hiei," he murmured tiredly. "Give it to … Hiei Jaganshi…."
"… I'll bring you back to Makai Estates," the Koorime told him, "and you'll never have to set foot in downtown ever again if you don't want to." He looked at Kurama solemnly, with those lovely red eyes Kurama admired. "Will you let me do that for you?"
Kurama was astonished by such a daring offer. "That could ruin your reputation," he said slowly.
"I don't care about that!" Hiei growled. "I care about you." He grabbed Kurama's wrist so tightly that the cross-dresser winced a little. "I love you—please let me fight for you."
Kurama tensed. Hiei's words sounded so honest and urgent that the redhead's paranoia was ebbing. He felt weird; an emotion came over him that he hadn't experienced in so long that it was almost foreign. This feeling, he kind of liked it.
'Hiei, you have so much potential, if you let go of the past. You saw everything that I was, and could still love me, and want to help me. To want such happiness for me. Now if only you could show your fellow Koorime that same aspiration, perhaps you won't have to go through your life feeling such bitterness and hatred, and feeling so empty because of it. You don't have to follow my path, not when you have another option.'
"All right," he said softly. "I won't run away." He kissed Hiei on the forehead. "I promise."
Relief flooded the billionaire's face. "Good," he sighed. "I love you."
"Now you're just being redundant," Kurama murmured. "I love you too."
"Come on; we're losing him!"
"He's not going to make it."
Kurama heard none of this. The image of the inside of the ambulance had blurred into constant black, and the sounds had faded to silence.
'... And I love you too, Hiei,' he thought.
"Hang in there, Shuichi; we'll be there in a min—Quick! He's not breathing!"
…
…
…
…
…
…
…Oblivion.