A Life of Our Own
Chapter five
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Our lives are hypocritical twisters-
They change direction, opinions so carelessly
They are nothing, completely worthless,
And maybe that is why we can,
So easily take the possessions that aren't ours.
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"What are you talking about?" Hiei growled angrily glaring at a stone-faced Kurama, who was returning the look in a dangerous, yet subtle, way. It had been roughly ten years since the horrible massacre, the events of that day still carved deeply into every person mind left behind, and the demon duo's relationship had all but faltered. More so, Kurama's idea of a breakup was going down the tubes quickly, and being replaced with an all-too-real nightmare
"You heard me," the redhead replied coolly from his perch on a rough wooden bench. The two men were in the central park, deep in the park, away from the prying eyes of a passing ningen—more specifically, a hanyou by the name of Yuusuke (not that he would actually follow them). "It's not working out."
"No shit, Sherlock! Any dumb ass could see that!" the spiky headed fire youkai cried out with more emotion than intended. He was standing rigid as a board, his hands forming small fist beside him. It was sad really, he had been so open when Kuwabara and Yukina had been alive, but after their deaths he had closed back up and reverted to his normal stoic self, completely killing all affection given to him by the kitsune.
"Then why ask?" Kurama snapped in a voice just oozing with venom, and sarcasm, a voice so unlike his usually beautiful silver speech. He was tired, agitated, and a little more hostile than normal, and the way the conversation was going was not helping at all. "Why do you want me to explain myself if you knew so well?"
"Fuck you! Am I just another notch on the bedpost of the Great Seducer Youko? That's all I was, wasn't I?" Hiei snapped back coldly, turning sharply on his heel to leave. "Well fuck you!"
Kurama watched as the black blur of his former lover hopped from tree to tree, unable to move, let alone scream out an angry retort. Even if he had been able to, though, he wouldn't have, for that last comment had hit him with more force than any physical blow would have been able to, and twice as hard as any mental one.
He bowed his head, cradling it tenderly in his slender hands, letting the warm crystalline liquid pour through his slightly parted fingers and onto the mossy ground beneath his feet. He sat like that for well over an hour, the tears never letting up, and his clouded mind never clearing. That was probably why he barely registered soft footsteps as they approached him, or when someone sat next to him. His unawareness of that one person must have been what caused him to jump and fall from his perch in surprise when they lightly touched his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry Shuuichi-Kun!" it was a feminine voice, one that clicked as familiar in his mind, and it was apologizing frantically. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you!"
The fox-gone-human brought the cuff of his sleeves to his eyes and wiped away the remaining tears before looking up at the girl. Recognition was hard pressed in his sorrow-racked mind causing him to stare blankly for several minutes before actually realizing who was sitting in front of him.
"Ayumi-Chan?" It was an uncertain claim at knowledge, but correct all the same.
"You remembered me, Shuuichi-Kun!" She exclaimed happily clapping her pale hands together excitedly. She was a thin girl, barely curvy, and not exactly tall, but nonetheless attractive in a cute sort of way. Her mane of wavy hair was as bright as the healthiest carrot, and pulled up in a tight, high ponytail tied off with a thick red ribbon; bright, lime-green eyes peaked through wild bangs and shined with a childish gleam, but in truth she was in her mid-thirties (not that she looked that old).
"What are you doing here?" once again, uncertainty rang clear in his voice- this couldn't be his old colleague; she didn't look to have aged a day!
"This is a public park, I don't see why I need a reason to be here," she chirped back. There was a second of silence as she looked over the slowly recovering redhead, her feature darkened slightly then relit with a new excitement. "You don't seem to have aged a day!
"I could say the same about you." The stale dread in the pit of his stomach turned to an unexplainable cautiousness that came through in his voice.
"Is it really that noticeable?" So she wasn't the only one who felt that the subject was slightly taboo; her tone was a mite unsure, even nervous, but it quickly changed back to its carefree perkiness. "What have you been up to all these years? I mean, one day you were at work and the next your gone for like…ever!"
"Family issues."
"Ten years of family issues?" Ayumi asked skeptically. Kurama went silent, a sign that he really didn't want to talk about it, he even made a move to get up and leave, but was stopped by the worried and over sympathetic look cast his way by the carrot top. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry."
"Forget about it," he mumbled back. He then turned his attention upward as bright rays of golden sunlight pierced through both grey clouds and green leaves brightly illuminating the bench and its one occupant. Said occupant cringed and jumped up from her spot, eyes cast warily at the sky, and walked closer to the crouching redhead.
It was then that Kurama noticed a strange aura surrounding her body; it curled and snapped in a protective, yet hostile, way around her body.
"I think I will take my leave now." The Youko once again made a move to leave, but he was stopped again, but by a more physical force.
"Hold on." She grabbed the collar of his shirt and he turned around with his mouth open, ready to protest, but he didn't get the chance. Cherry red lips crushed themselves against satin pink ones in a harsh kiss, a sharp pain erupted from the latter as pointed canines pierced through the soft flesh- and then there was nothing but an overwhelming feeling of ecstasy and an unexplainable bliss.
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"Yuusuke, I'm back!" Shizuru announced slamming the door to her apartment behind her. For eleven years she and the hanyou had lived together keeping each other from letting go of their existence, reminding each other day after day that life was worth living, and overall just keeping each other company; so no one should be able to blame the brunette for worrying when she didn't get a reply. "Yuusuke?" Still no reply.
Shizuru quickly toed off her shoes and dropped the bags of groceries she had been holding in an attempt to make it easier to hurry down the hallway. She didn't know why she felt so anxious; the boy could have just gone out for the day, but something in her gut told her otherwise. Her unexplained fear turned into reality as she entered her living room where Yuusuke sat Indian style watching bright, crimson blood pour thickly from a jagged cut across his wrist. A crumpled letter lay to one side of the boy, and on the other a brightly stained kitchen knife gleamed threateningly.
"Aw, shit," Shizuru cursed rushing over to Yuusuke. She yanked the bleeding arm away from his limp grasp and wrapped it tightly with a handkerchief she had in her pant's pocket, before scolding: "What the hell were you thinking Yuusuke? You could have killed yourself!"
"That was the point." Yuusuke's tones were cool and border lining on harsh, but there was a fresh under current of sorrow that warned the female of new heartbreak. The older brunette stood up and disappeared, reappearing only a moment later with a roll of bandages, some towels and what looked like a tube of toothpaste. Without a word, she grabbed the wounded arm and untied the tainted white hanky from around the pale wrist of Yuusuke; he didn't utter a word of protest, but he didn't help either. As soon as the bandage was gone blood began to spurt forth sporadically, but it was a much thinner flow than before, and a lot less serious.
"I guess I should be thanking your demon blood." Shizuru said in a voice that threatened to break at any moment. "That wound would have been fatal, and I don't think I could…" That was as much as she could say with out letting the pent up tension free, and tears soon began the descent down her cheeks in warm rivulets.
She quickly averted her gaze from Yuusuke and caught sight of the crumpled letter by his side. She snatched it up and began to read, but after glancing over the first few words she knew there was no way she would be able to understand the context- but that was what worried her the most. The message short, and written in a foreign language- French, the same language that was carved so brutally into Shiori's chest so many years ago.
Another object caught her attention and she reached out to pick it up; it was a Polaroid snapshot Yuusuke's mom Atsuko, her body in a similar state as Minamino-San's had been, but devoid of the carved warning. Without warning Shizuru was sobbing even harder and had enveloped the raven-locked boy in a bone crushing hug that he returned with almost as much force. That sat like that for several moments, enjoying the other's company.
"I'm so sorry Yuusuke. Here let me help you up." Slowly she stood up balancing the weakened boy on her shoulders and led him over to the couch. He fell heavily against the soft material, and watched almost vacantly as the taller female left for the kitchen. She returned a few seconds later holding a couple of beers and a pack of cigarettes.
"Here, catch." She tossed the vices to Yuusuke who caught them easily. He hit the box against his palm curtly to compact the tobacco before pulling out a thin white stick, placed the butt end against his lips and sighed.
"I'm sorry Shizuru," he murmured scooting over so the girl could fit on the couch as well. "It's just so much shit has been going on, and I'm not sure how much more I can take of it."
"You and me both, I'm just glad I got here when I did- how about some TV?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Preference?
"Anything with music is cool- music videos are usually pretty distracting." Shizuru nodded, switched on the TV, and flipped through a couple of channels before dropping the remote in utter shock.
"What the fuck?" Both occupants of the couch cried completely forgetting anything that might have been going through their head at that moment in time. There on the screen was none other than Kurama, a mike held tight in hand as he began a soft, dark melody in tune with the young looking girl beside him.
"Since when was Fox-boy a singer?"
"And who the hell is that girl?"
"And what the fuck are they wearing?"
Oh yes, the outfits. Kurama was clad in tight black leather jeans, thick-heeled boots, and a sleeveless red turtleneck. The girl in the other hand was wearing something a little more revealing. She wore a tight red tub top, a super mini, black leather skirt, matching thick-heeled boots snaked their way up to about mid thigh.
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Wow, I'm starting to think I might need to rate this Mature 'cause of language- I'm not sure, but I think I might.
Anyways, this chapter moved a little too quickly for my tastes, but hell that shouldn't matter that much.
Anyways, there was a one-year jump between the break up and the suicide attempt- just wanted to clear that up if it happened to be bugging you.
Well anyways, thanks
KyoHana, SnakeDude100 and kit-kit
You are the guys who keep me writing!
Till next time
Catie-brie