9. Between the Desire and the Spasm
--
At the marketplace, Kurama correctly guessed that Karasu was looking for another sealer. While Karasu wasn't exactly wandering aimlessly, he led Bui and Kurama leisurely, with no real sense of direction, scanning the stalls around them through narrowed eyes.
"What are you looking for?" Kurama asked derisively.
"I'll let you know soon enough," Karasu said placidly, though his jaw tightened.
Kurama opened his mouth to make another retort, but he stopped dead in his tracks, visibly jolted. Only after Bui tilted his head significantly did he remember to fall back into step after Karasu.
He'd seen a booth selling fruits, vegetables, and seeds—if the vendor had the seed for the plant he needed, it could be his ticket to freedom.
He'd originally intended on somehow finding one in the nighttime, while they camped in the forest, but such a discovery wasn't guaranteed. In fact, the success of that plan depended on luck much more than he would have like to admit. But Kurama had enough confidence in his intelligence to believe that he would find better opportunities, and now, the likelihood of him being able to buy a Todakidare seed in the marketplace seemed very high.
He briefly entertained the thought of making a break for it in this crowded area, but Karasu walked at his left, and Bui followed closely behind. At best, he'd be able to take five steps before getting caught. Balling his hands into frustrated fists, he allowed himself to be steered away from the vendor in question. His mind raced with schemes for causing distractions; all he needed was a few minutes to check to see whether the vendor had what he wanted.
As anxiety simmered within Kurama, Karasu directed their steps toward an open square in the marketplace, but on the way they crossed the path of a group of rowdy youkai accompanied by several vulgar-looking women. Kurama, sensing in them the distraction that he needed, decided to throw caution to the winds and use his returning youki to create his opening.
Trying his best to look casual, Kurama ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't risk drawing Bui or Karasu's attention with that simple action, because they both knew that he kept his deadliest weapons there. Fortunately, neither of them saw him, and he discreetly pulled out a small golden bud.
As the group of youkai approached, he squeezed the bud between his thumb and forefinger until the flower inside popped open violently; at the same time, he jerked his wrist sharply towards the nearing youkai. The glittering pollen that streamed out of the flower hit them full on, and Karasu and Bui got some as well.
The pollen of the golden iraira blossom acted as an irritant whose psychological effects, once directly inhaled, drove youkai to the brink of fury. Once one had breathed in the pollen, the smallest provocation could push him over the edge. Kurama's intention in all of this was to start a fight between Karasu, Bui, and the nearing youkai.
Bui stuck obstinately to Kurama's back like a burr, as they walked past the others, which meant that he inadvertently trod on the toes of one of the carousing youkai.
"Oi, watch it!" he yelled loudly, stopping short. The rest of his friends paused as well to stare at them.
Bui did not reply, though Karasu cast an irritated look over at the loud, rather reptilian demon.
"Aren't you going to say sorry, pal?" He jabbed a clawed finger forcefully into Bui's armored chest.
Bui turned away disdainfully, while Karasu said, "You'd do well to leave now, before you really provoke Bui."
The reptilian youkai removed his scaly arm from around the shoulders of his scantily-clad companion, whose coquettish giggles had been silenced. She looked upon the impending scene with frightened eyes.
"Oh yeah?" He stepped uncomfortably close to Bui and shoved him. "Are you really provoked now?" He hit the side of Bui's metal helmet hard, so that Bui's head must have been ringing. "What about now?"
His friends abandoned their whores as well, cracking their knuckles in gleeful anticipation. Walking to Bui's side, Karasu removed his mask. He was evidently in a hurry if he was going to pull out his big guns so early in a fight. As Kurama well knew, he liked to take his time with gradated levels of torment. It must be the effect of the iraira pollen.
"You've done it now," he said, sighing, though his expression was less than regretful. His eyes shone out of his pale face with the fire of enthusiasm, like amethysts set in alabaster. He sucked in air at the same time Bui's gigantic axe materialized in his hand. Kurama watched with hopeful fascination, and screamed silently with exultation as the fight began.
With assorted whoops, the others rushed at Karasu and Bui. Kurama smiled faintly as he turned away: they were sacrificing themselves to give him a priceless opportunity.
Karasu and Bui were completely embroiled in the brawl; Kurama slipped unnoticed to the seed vendor's stall. He was counting on the pollen to cloud their minds so that his short absence would go unseen.
"Do you have any Todakidare fruits?" he asked urgently.
The pug-faced demon stared at him, taken aback by both his abrupt manner and the nature of his request. The Fruit of Past Life was a highly esoteric species; anyone asking for it as casually as if they were requesting an over-the-counter medication deserved careful examination. His greedy eyes took in the gold pins and embroidered ribbons in Kurama's hair. Well, at least this customer obviously had money.
"Maybe," he said slowly. "That's a pretty rare plant. Depends what it's worth to you."
No matter what he had deduced about Youko's strength returning to Minamino Shuiichi's body at the tournament, Kurama still needed to resume his past form in order to have any kind of a fighting chance against Karasu. Shuiichi, after all, was too afraid of him. That was why he was resorting more and more to hiding behind Youko's cold façade now. Still, just the façade wasn't enough.
He had been planning this almost immediately after his ki had been sealed. He was ready now to respond to the seller's thinly veiled bid for offers.
"Here," he said, pulling out the tiny silk pouch that Yukina had given him. He opened the drawstring and poured the three hiruiseki into his palm. He looked at the gaping vendor silently, allowing the sparkling turquoise gems to speak for themselves. He found it strangely appropriate that Yukina's tears should buy his salvation.
"Take it or leave it," he said at last. "I don't have time to haggle."
Kurama was bluffing, of course; he could not afford to leave without obtaining the seed of the Fruit of Past Life. But it didn't matter.
"I don't have fruits, but I do have seeds."
"That's fine," Kurama said quickly.
The vendor reached under his counter, fumbled for a minute, and brought out an oblong, caramel-colored seed the size of an almond.
"I think it's a fair trade," he said officiously, seizing the hiruiseki with one hand and holding out the Todakidare seed with the other.
Kurama's lips quirked in a wry smile as he took the seed, placing it inside the silk pouch and tucking the pouch inside his clothes again. One seed was all he needed. As of yet, he didn't have enough youki to make a flowering tree grow from that seed, but he would soon enough. Then, affirming with a glance that Karasu and Bui were still busy, he stole back to them.
"Let that be a lesson to you," Karasu said softly, as the last standing youkai's head exploded. He turned to Kurama. "Did you stay safely out of the way?"
He hadn't noticed, then. Kurama nodded, relief washing over him. His breath caught a little when Bui gave him a sidelong look, but the armored youkai said nothing.
"Good." Karasu's face unwound into a smile. "I don't want you getting hurt right now."
Kurama did not deign to reply. Karasu continued, "I don't think we'll find what we've been looking for here, so after we eat here, we'll be on our way."
Kurama smiled privately. He had found what he'd been looking for.
--
That night, they stopped in a thicket on the side of the road to set up camp.
"We're almost there," Karasu said, looking around at the environment as Bui started a fire. "The foliage has changed—though that's not something I pretend to be an expert at," he said facetiously, inclining his head towards Kurama.
The flora wasn't the only thing that had changed. Kurama hunched into himself miserably and drew closer to the small fire, his breaths billowing in front of him. The temperature was bearable during the day, but nights and early mornings were quickly becoming intolerable. The kimonos he had brought from Karasu's house were not designed to protect their wearer from the bite of frost and wind.
"These are northern plants . . . we've been moving faster than I expected. I'd forgotten how quickly those horses traveled. In fact, I think we will arrive in Mokuzai in several days. At the most."
Several days! Kurama panicked internally. He wouldn't be able to produce a Fruit of Past Life in several days. At best, he'd get a sapling, but certainly not a mature tree capable of bearing fruit. Well, maybe if he slowed the growth of the Makai strawberry following them . . .? He weighed the possibility. He could devote all his ki to the Todakidare, in hopes of gaining the ability to defend himself; or he could stick with the strawberry plant and wait for Hiei to catch up.
I've never needed anyone else, Youko said derisively, but this time, his words offered Kurama no comfort. He did need people . . . his mother, his teammates, and Hiei above anyone else now.
He continued to grapple with the problem as he sat in front of the fire, and his contemplation turned the weightless seed at his neck into a millstone.
Karasu turned toward him, intending to say something more, when there was a sudden whistling sound and a small thud. Stiffly, Karasu reached behind his back and yanked out a small, bronze-tipped arrow covered in his blood. He stared at it furiously for a moment and tossed it aside.
A shape burst out of the shadows, panting with excitement. Kurama regarded the newcomer with utter incomprehension. He was a well-dressed blond with eyes like malachites.
It was Matsuoka.
"I've found you," he hissed exultantly at Karasu, whose eyes narrowed. "I could have poisoned the arrow tip to cause you a slow and painful death, but I want your death to bear the marks of a more . . . personal touch.
"Don't you know who I am?" he taunted, when Karasu's expression remained blank.
Karasu's lip curled underneath his mask. "I have the great pleasure of being able to decline."
"Do you remember Sawashima Kiriyama?"
"Oh." Karasu's tense demeanor slackened. "A tedious case of revenge. Why must you all take everything so personally? I assure you it's purely business on my end."
Bui rose, the quiet menace unmistakable in every line of his rigid form. Karasu motioned to him to back away.
"No, Bui. He wants revenge on me," he said quietly, smiling.
"Come on then," snarled Matsuoka. "Lapdog of the Shikaku."
Karasu turned his palm up, forming a bomb. He was in no hurry this time; he could enjoy himself. He wanted to wait before taking off his mask and delivering the killing blow.
Matsuoka pulled out two curved swords with blades so thin that they looked like the ribs of a giant fish. Whirling them about in a complicated pattern, he created a small force field that repelled Karasu's first bomb.
"You know how to play," Karasu observed with pleasure, waving his hands to create more bombs. "Your brother never had that level of skill."
"Go to hell!" Matsuoka growled unoriginally, rotating his swords with impossibly fluid wrist movements so that they looked like silver pinwheels. Karasu smirked.
Kurama looked upon the fight eagerly. Perhaps with everyone so intent on the battle, he could seize the opportunity to flee and maybe even meet Hiei. He was having incredible luck today.
Heady with this glimpse of freedom, Kurama edged into the shadows outside the firelight; Karasu was certainly too preoccupied to notice. But Bui was not.
BOOM.
An axe with a blade the size of a cow had slammed into the ground in front of Kurama, blocking his way and shooting up a spray of dislodged earth. Kurama turned around to see Bui standing where he had been, holding an axe with a handle long enough so that he could impede Kurama without having to move. It was the first time Kurama had seen Bui with a weapon since the Dark Tournament.
"I've been very lenient with you," Bui said quietly.
Kurama walked stiffly back into the circle of light cast by the fire, brushing dirt from his clothes. Bui's implied words had been, But I can't let you do this.
Karasu and Matsuoka continued to fight, apparently oblivious to what had just occurred. Finally, Karasu said, "Your powers are impressive . . . but in the end, you'd have done better to have stayed at home weeping over your brothers."
A trickle of blood flowed from a wound past his hairline, down his forehead, and over his fingers as he ripped off his mask to take in explosive material from the air. Kurama watched with a nauseated feeling of déjà vu as Karasu's hair changed color and he clasped his hands, laughing maniacally.
"Die!" he shouted, rising into the air at least twenty feet before diving at Matsuoka. With all his agility, Matsuoka managed to escape the worst of the explosion, though a huge gash opened on his shoulder, and left his right arm dangling uselessly at his side.
"Shit!"
The sword in his right hand fell to the ground. He winced, and in a flash, disappeared into the trees.
"Coward," Karasu laughed, wantonly sending several bombs after him into the forest. Despite his laughter, there was anger in his expression—anger, perhaps, at being denied the opportunity of making a kill.
They heard the loud crashes of falling trees in the distance, but no shriek or groan from Matsuoka that would have indicated death from being crushed by a log.
"Come back!" Karasu called.
"We'll be seeing him again," Bui said, picking up the slender blade.
An expression flitted across Karasu's face too quickly for Kurama to follow it, but it seemed as though he had just remembered something. He stepped toward Kurama. "I noticed that he wasn't the only one who wanted to run away."
Kurama backed up and hit the side of a tent, realizing that Karasu had indeed seen him. There was a demonic look in his eyes that frightened him. While those eyes had always glowed with a disturbing light, it had been subdued. Now it was fanned into a blazing inferno.
Even his facial features spoke more strongly of cruelty. The newly uncovered parts of his face—his nose, chin, and mouth—all possessed sinister angles jarring to one accustomed to the round contours of his mask. His lips curled up maliciously, and Kurama shuddered, remembering his horrible "goodnight" routines.
Karasu came closer, his curly blond hair bouncing as he walked. Kurama had always feared Karasu in general, but his blond incarnation inspired exceptional terror.
I never feared him, Youko whispered in the back of his mind, and Kurama reached down for his strength.
One of the greatest similarities Kurama and Karasu shared was their duality of character. The loud, flashy blond was almost unrecognizable in the pensive, more quietly sinister Karasu. Likewise, studious and mild-mannered Minamino Shuiichi had rather effectively buried the dissolute and unfeeling Youko within himself. But Karasu and Kurama were both inextricably linked to their alter egos.
Karasu kept advancing, and Kurama stood his ground now that he was in tune with Youko. Unfortunately, even Youko couldn't save him while trapped inside Shuiichi.
"I haven't disciplined you well enough," Karasu said, leaning in close to Kurama's face. "If I had, you would never have thought of running away."
Kurama looked around wildly. Bui, probably aware of what was going to happen and knowing that his position forbade interference, had disappeared.
"I've been soft with you." Karasu caressed the side of Kurama's face, entangling his fingers in braided hair as he did so. A pin fell out of place. Karasu smiled; knowing that when he was through, all of the pins and ribbons in Kurama's hair would be scattered and unraveled.
"I've been too kind," he murmured. The hand in Kurama's hair descended to stroke his neck; he rested his fingers on Kurama's frantic, fluttering pulse. He smiled as he felt the fear there.
Kurama stepped backwards at the sight of that menacing smile, only to tumble into the tent. That presented the perfect opportunity to Karasu, who was instantly in there with him—in fact, on top of him.
"Don't do this," Kurama shouted, struggling underneath Karasu's weight as he began to tear at Kurama's clothes. "Remember what you said about needing my cooperation, about waiting!"
But in this frenzied state, which Kurama recognized only too well, Karasu was beyond reason. It was like dealing with a drunk, or a child—someone with no self-restraint.
He laughed and said, "Struggle all you like. I've always admired your spirited nature."
He forced the black, fountain spray-patterned kimono that Kurama was wearing down around his knees; the boy's flushed skin glowed palely against the dark silk in the firelight that filtered in through the walls of the tent.
As he ripped Kurama's clothing apart, though, the pouch around his neck containing the Todakidare seed fell innocuously to the side, without drawing Karasu's attention. Though overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation, Kurama noticed that and thanked the gods for small mercies.
But he trembled violently under Karasu's rapacious gaze—and no less insatiable touch.
"Beautiful," Karasu said quietly. "But I knew that already. I've always known it."
He fell upon Kurama.
"Scream and curse all you want," Karasu murmured feverishly against hot skin. "It will all sound like words of love to me." His mouth dipped down busily on Kurama's sensitive flesh, but when he came up for air, he added, "I remember how vocal you were at the Dark Tournament."
During their match, Karasu had viewed Kurama's screams as the magnificent chords and rippling cadences he had produced on a living instrument by manipulating his Quest Class powers. He expected the same results now that he was attacking Kurama again, albeit in a different manner. Kurama did scratch and bite, but his efforts at resistance left him too breathless to rail at Karasu—though his raging eyes spoke eloquently.
Karasu was even more vicious in his frenzy of adoration. Each kiss and thrust tore into Kurama like the bullet that had ripped his soul from his body and sent him into Ningenkai.
Wilting under Karasu like a daisy beset by frost, Kurama thought desperately about exerting a fierce burst of youki to repel the crow youkai. He was paralyzed by his anguished terror; he rationalized frenetically, I'm not strong enough yet and if I expose myself now it will all be over, best to endure this and exact vengeance later, oh what a vengeance it will be! His thoughts raced as unsteadily as his shallow breathing.
"Finally—yes," Karasu muttered fiercely, washing over Kurama like the inexorable tide, drowning him in his passion. "I—yes—Kurama."
He had never hated the sound of his name so much. Karasu's lips blighted it.
Kurama's disgust and horror reached fever pitch, and for a few moments he shut down completely, feeling totally detached as Karasu's ravaging culminated in intensity. He was simply so rattled that his mind could not process any more.
When it was finally over, Kurama slowly came back down. Cold rage, rather than despair or shame, flooded him. Kurama lay there with Karasu's blood drying on his lips and under his fingernails, feeling as though he had just been cast in steel and not shattered into a thousand pieces of china. This violation, which would have been the breaking point of most, was only the final temperance of Kurama's will. What does not kill us makes us stronger, Youko said.
"Yes," Kurama whispered.
--
The next morning, when Kurama opened his eyes, the tent was empty. He stepped out and saw only Bui, who had apparently taken it upon himself the duty of apologizing for Karasu and making excuses for his absence.
Snow had fallen during the night, blanketing the ground and the trees. Bui moved towards Kurama across a white plane, kicking up snow as he did so.
"He really does regret what happened. He was not himself," Bui said quietly. "You have become far more to him than a whore to be used. You have become so important that your happiness is integral to his."
"Careful, Bui," Kurama retorted, secure in his own strength. "You're coming close to calling it love."
"Your beauty inspires his reverence, and reverence is the highest form of love."
"I suppose it excuses even rape," Kurama sneered. His breath came out in ghostlike puffs. "But when Karasu's conduct is ugly, it doesn't mean that he's not himself. I think in his case, ugly conduct is not the exception, but the rule. And you—his lackey." He stared at Bui for a second. "Well, I suppose I expected nothing better of you."
Bui dropped his eyes, though Kurama could not see. Bui's eyes were obscured by the shadow cast by his helmet's visor.
Kurama ate a light breakfast, and afterwards washed thoroughly with water he obtained from boiling snow. His ablutions were not a compulsive, futile act as is most often the case with such victims. He cleaned himself calmly, feeling as if each drop of water that rolled off his body and was absorbed by the snowy ground carried with it the stink of Karasu's touch.
When Karasu returned from wherever he had gone, Kurama noticed he could not bear to meet his eyes for long. Karasu did not mention the events of the previous night, saying only, "We're leaving now."
Even in the carriage, Karasu chose to drive the horses in order to escape Kurama's gaze. Kurama stared at Bui at they sped along, reveling in the uncomfortable silence between them. Bui inwardly marveled at the triumphant light in his green eyes, but there was something petulant about it, as with a child who has scored a petty victory. Bui, whose respect for Kurama's strength had grown into admiration, hated to see the ugliness on Kurama's face that Karasu had wrought.
He had to do something. His previous failed attempts spurred him on to try again.
At that very moment, however, an explosion sounded outside and caused the carriage to reverberate. Bui and Kurama scrambled to the windows to see the source of the disturbance.
Thirty feet distant, a large hollow had been blown into the snow, exposing the gray-brown dirt underneath. Different sized chunks of snow were scattered haphazardly around the explosion site.
As Kurama started to ask about it, another explosion occurred, this time knocking a spindly-branched tree down. It was rapidly followed by another. The horses sped on composedly, however, though a trail of disturbed snow banks and fallen trees marked their violent wake.
"What's happening?"
Bui's hands clenched involuntarily. "Karasu is upset. His emotions . . . have overtaken him so that he can't control his explosive abilities any longer. Even his mask is ineffective in restraining his powers." His explanation was punctuated with more explosions, each louder than the last.
And this incontrovertible piece of evidence replaced Kurama's horribly smug expression with a deeply contemplative, somewhat disturbed look. It did for Bui what he never could have hoped to accomplish with his clumsy words.
Karasu would have done anything to give back what he had taken forcefully from Kurama last night, and now Kurama could not deny it.
--
A/N: It is not my intention to make light of, or otherwise promote rape. Funara, I remember that you expressed distaste at the idea of Karasu taking Kurama by force, and this is your gift fic, but I'd already had this chapter planned out well in advance. I hope I handled the subject tastefully enough for your sensibilities.
But I was thinking it might have been about time to introduce blond!Karasu, and I warned about this indirectly by upping the rating.
And ack! Forgive this horribly late update! Real life got in the way again. --"
But here we are at last, at the brink of chapter ten, which I'd said I was having trouble with a few weeks ago. Well—I'm still having trouble with it. Progress has been made, however, and now I only have to worry about chapter eleven . . .