July 3, 2005 – Wow! I am so, sooo sorry it has taken so long to continue this fic! My world kinda fell apart a little in the middle of the Christmas season and I found myself facing a cross-country move. However, I'm back on track and stronger than ever! Still, thank you, Meiroh, for reminding me that there are people out there who are reading my stuff even if I don't know it. However, it does help if y'all let me know! Heh, otherwise I sit here wondering sometimes if I'm just talking to myself! LOL Contact me! Lemme know you're out there! I don't bite, I promise! ((big grin))
Anyway, while I had said that I would reveal the source for this story in this chapter, I'm gonna make y'all wait (heh, "y'all" – can you tell that I've moved from California to Georgia? Or as they say around here, "Ge-AW-gia" heehee). Again, I've decided to wait until the next chapter because there are tidbits of info I want to finish doling out before I do that. However, I PROMISE it's not going to be another five months before the next chapter is posted!
("The Disclaimer") "Yu Yu Hakusho" and all known related characters do not belong to me. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.
" . . . For I Have Sinned"
by DragonDancer5150
Chapter 1 - Betrayal
Right foot . . .left foot . . . right foot . . . left -
"Too slow! I said move!" The hand struck the back of his shoulder again, further angering the already-protesting whiplashes.
He obeyed silently, blood pounding in his ears along with the cries of the crowd. The only way to ignore them was to focus straight ahead . . . but the dais awaiting him was even more fearful.
8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8
Kurama had lost all track of time. At least an hour, maybe two, had passed since Hatanaka Katsuyoshi had slammed the door on his inhuman stepson, a stepson whom just that morning he had greeted with a warm grin and a pat on the shoulder before leaving with his wife for work. What had changed that the same stepson should be met with such violent anger and rejection now?
He paused a moment and took stock of his surroundings, numbly pushing his soaked bangs from his eyes. Things were as much in place as they were out. There was the café on the corner between Sunrise Way and Harvest Avenue – again, the signs were in English – with the Korean market next to it and a Chinese restaurant. Across the street from these stood a theater and a game store. He looked more closely. Besides the new architecture, the theater exhibited painted hanging scrolls for a live production rather than paper posters for movies. Gone from the windows of the game store were its customary neon lights and, instead of cardboard cut-outs of video game characters, wooden boxes and leather draw-string bags of nothing more technologically advanced than chess, go, and shogi lay in displays on the counters. Again, everything was in English. But . . . where was the American food market? It seemed to have been replaced by some kind of office front. And he still had yet to see a car or any people walking the sidewalks.
In spite of the differences, Kurama recognized where he was. Yusuke's apartment building was not far from here . . . if the building itself stood at all. Kurama had yet to see anything taller than three stories. In that moment, he could not bring to mind just how tall Yusuke's building was, but it was easily more than that. He sighed softly. Well, nothing for it, he told himself. Mom, Hatanaka-san, and Shuichi-kun are here – wherever or whenever "here" is – so Yusuke and Kuwabara must be here, too. And Hiei. Kurama was all but certain that it had been Hiei he had sensed earlier. What he could not fathom was why the youkai would have hidden from him and remained so.
Hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the driving rain, Kurama shook his head. Nothing has been right since that flash of energy. What happened? It occurred to him then that he still had his periphery key. Perhaps I should be seeking out Lord Koenma rather than Yusuke.
Just as the thought passed through his mind, he rounded a corner only to stop in his tracks at the sight. Where Yusuke's apartment building should have been stood a two-story building that reminded him for all the world of a military barrack. He approached cautiously, horror and curiosity warring for expression. He was halfway to the oaken double doors when a flash of movement left a black clad figure blocking his path. "You're out past curfew, Kurama." The words dripped with palpable contempt.
"H-Hiei . . . ?" Kurama had seen such hot fury in those ruby eyes before but never directed at him, not since the misunderstanding by which they had first made one another's acquaintance years before.
"You have a lot of nerve showing your face again, youko bastard," Hiei snarled, reaching for his sword. "You're even more arrogant than I thought . . . or more stupid."
Nearly gaping in stunned silence, Kurama's first coherent thought was the realization that Hiei was speaking in English, just as Hatanaka had. But . . . Hiei doesn't even know English!
It was almost too late before his shocked mind registered the sixth sense warning that jolted through the rest of him. By then, he could not react fast enough. Something solid whacked the base of his skull with an audible crack, and he crumpled down across the cobbled stones. He rolled to face his attacker just as he heard, "Freeze! Don't move!" The voice was both familiar and alien by its quality of tone. "Hands up over your head where I can see them. Now!"
Before he obeyed, Kurama had twisted enough to see whom it was who stood over him, his suspicion confirmed with a dropping sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was indeed Yusuke. He was dressed in a very strange but clearly military-style uniform, braced expertly with a gun cocked and ready. A real gun, not his Spirit Gun, Kurama noted almost absently.
Yusuke apparently caught the fact that Kurama was staring at his weapon. "Yeah, that's right, fox-face. Because of our last encounter, I finally earned the right to carry a pistol. So I guess I got you to thank for something, huh?"
"Last encounter?" Kurama was shaking his head. "Yusuke, I – What are you talking about? What is going - ?"
Yusuke had advanced closely enough to give him a kick to the ribs. "Don't play dumb on me, youko. And don't you dare use such a familiar tone with me! This pistol's full of Yoki suppressor bullets. Don't give me a reason to empty the clip on your sorry ass." Even as Yusuke spoke, several more soldiers descended on Kurama, two hauling him to his feet with his arms twisted out securely to either side while the rest took up defensives stances with swords and polearms at the ready. Hiei had approached around the group to stand among the gathered soldiers. H-he stands openly among humans . . . ?
"Sergeant?" Kurama heard one of the other soldiers speak up from behind him.
"Yeah, what is it?" Yusuke never took his eyes or his gun off of Kurama.
"Uh, sir, is this . . . ?"
Yusuke's scowl deepened, though Kurama would not have guessed that possible. "Sure is, private. Youkai bandit Youko Kurama, the Silver Fox – hiding among us since Shunjun of Spirit Realm's Special Defense Squad failed to off him some fifteen years ago. Clever bastard."
"Wow. The same, huh? T-the one who . . . " The private's words trailed of in a mixture of awe and horror.
"Yeah," Yusuke growled. "You better believe it. I was there."
"Here he comes," Hiei murmured with a nod to one side.
Kuwabara stepped into view just then. One of the soldiers nodded with a murmur of deference to "Captain Urameshi" as he accepted a set of manacles from Kuwabara. The two soldiers holding Kurama forced his arms out in front of him, offering his wrists for the manacles from which he could feel mystical energies emanating. Kurama was stronger than these normal humans. He knew he could easily break free of their hold. Somehow, he could not bring himself to fight, not with his closest friends staring at him with such hate, anger and judgment. Then the manacles were in place and he could feel their dampening effect, locking his Yoki, his mystical energy, from use.
Kuwabara looked him up and down, his expression as cruel as any Kurama had encountered since the energy surge. "Hey, pretty boy. Nice shade of pink." Kurama glanced down at himself, realizing that he still wore the fuchsia uniform of Meiou Private Academy, his high school. "I don't recognize that branch of the service. Didja steal it offa Spaniard or somethin'?"
"Nah, gotta be French," someone snickered.
Kurama ignored them to meet Yusuke's eye evenly, though inside he could not loosen the tension that knotted his gut. "I do not know what has happened or what you believe I have done but - " The butt of the pistol across his jaw cut off further comment.
"You wanna play like you got amnesia or something, fox-boy? I can arrange that! Enough of a beating to that thick skull of yours might just do the trick. Can't say I wouldn't enjoy it, either."
"Sergeant!" Kuwabara snapped with a tone of authority Kurama had never heard from him. "Don't forget your oath."
"You weren't there, Kazuma," Yusuke growled in a low voice. "You didn't see . . . didn't see . . . " He shook with horror at the memories Kurama could see playing behind his eyes.
Kuwabara put a steadying hand on Yusuke's shoulder. "Yeah, I know. I read your report, an' I remember you tellin' me. Still, if we don't follow protocol, we'll be upholding no more order than the chaos that his kind thrives on. As men, we gotta maintain better honor than that. I'll talk to the magistrate tonight. Calladon will make sure this bastard sees justice by noon tomorrow."
Hiei folded his arms with a dark smirk. "Captain, the rain's let up and your men are restless from being cooped up indoors. They could use an amusement to burn off excess energy." He pointed with his chin at something off Kurama's left shoulder, behind the reach of his periphery vision. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the thief's kept in good enough condition to see the magistrate on time." Yusuke was nodding with a wicked grin.
Kuwabara considered it for a moment, looking over the expressions of the men. Finally, he turned his back on them. "I left before Hiei spoke up. I am only aware that the prisoner has been locked in his cell to await his appointment with the magistrate in the morning." That said, he began to walk away.
Obviously it was Kuwabara and not Yusuke who was in charge in this place and time. It was to him that any imploring was to be done. Kurama did not know what the innuendos meant, but he could guess well enough and did not want to have it confirmed. "Wait, Kuwabara! I – " He stopped at the sudden stiffness of his back as Kuwabara froze before whirling on him.
"Where did you hear that name?" he demanded. Kurama only stared back at him, yet again at a loss for a proper answer. The man searched his face for a long moment. "I don't know where you learned that name, thief," he growled at length, "but it is not mine, not any longer. I am Kazuma Urameshi, captain of the 38th platoon of Tokyo Minor . . . not that you'll care for too much longer if I have anything to say about it." With that, he spun on his heel and strode into the building.
Yusuke's cruel grin widened. "Sounds like Brother gave us a pretty carte blanche 'Yes' to me, guys." He gestured for the prisoner to be moved.
"That really should be 'Captain' Brother to you, Yusuke," Hiei commented with a long-suffering shake of his head.
Kurama was about-faced and dragged to a pole buttressed to the side of the building, where his arms were pulled up and the chain of the manacles looped onto a hook over his head. As soon as he realized their intent, Kurama had begun to struggle in earnest, but the Yoki-dampening shackles had the secondary capability of effectively cutting a youkai's strength in half, making him easily manageable by a normal human. He tried several times to find out, at the very least, of what he was being accused but no one did more than laugh and taunt him. They kicked and cuffed him at first. Then, he felt the cold blade of a dagger slipped down the collar of his shirt, slicing open shirt and jacket in a single long cut to expose his back. With that, injury was added to insult as the triple thongs of a barbed scourge tore into his flesh. The group took turns, each getting his exercise, until Kurama's blood flowed freely. The only one who never actually struck was Hiei, but he stood where he could watch the prisoner's face. Ruby eyes staring in wrathful judgment were the last things Kurama saw before darkness took him, as his body surrendered to unconsciousness from shock, chill, pain, and blood loss.
8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8
Trying to ignore the murmuring and growling crowds around him, Kurama nearly tripped on the first step. Slowly he climbed the stairs, fearful eyes locked on the rough hemp hanging above, waiting for him with terrible and infinite patience.
Author's Notes: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!
Don't worry, guys. I know what I'm doing. All will be explained in good time . . . ((wicked laughter echoes into the darkness – think Vincent Price at the end of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" . . . or am I dating myself?))