(See Chapter 1 for the actual disclaimer. Standard disclaimer here: Sadly, I own neither YYH or its characters; they are the sole property of Togashi-san. The only thing I own is the plot and OCs of this convuluted piece of drivel... and oh yeah: a Kurama and Hiei plushie and keyrings, some manga, and the series DVDs.)

AN: Italic type indicates a flashback sequence.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update and hope the you don't think I'd abandoned it, because I won't! This chapter is my first attempt at writing from a character's (other than one I've created) POV; so I hope that I got it right. I have to say, I am pleased with the way this chapter turned out, and I hope that you will be as well.

As Blackrose Kitsune is fond of saying, leave a review at the door. It would be much appreciated.

Chapter 2 – Revelation and Remorse

Kurama's POV

"Kasumi…" Her name is no more than a breath upon my lips as I open my eyes; the dream fading into the mists of sleep now ended – the same mist for which she had been named.

Fully awake now, and careful not to wake the slumbering figure beside me, I sit up. Leaning back against the headboard, I draw my knees to my chest, clasping my arms around them and resting my chin on top.

It has been nearly 30 years since I locked away all memory of my sister, burying them as I had buried her mutilated corpse. And yet, for the past few days, my dreams have been inexplicably haunted by those self-same memories. 'Why now', I wonder, and having no answer, sigh softly, ever mindful of the small demon still wrapped within the cocoon of sleep beside me.

I look over at him – my mate; he who is the other half of my soul – and am startled to find half-lidded ruby eyes regarding me thoughtfully.

"Good morning, Hiei," I whisper with a small smile.

"Hn," is his only response as he sits up. He shifts so that he is facing me, sitting up on his knees; crimson orbs, now fully opened, still observing me with that same pensive expression. I, in turn, shift my eyes downward, suddenly quite interested in the red silk that covers my knees. Hiei leans forward, a small, sword-calloused hand gently cupping my chin; raising my eyes to meet his.

"Another dream." It isn't a question, yet I nod as though he'd asked.

"I don't understand," I tell him, my eyes meeting his; the image of his beautiful face shimmering in the tears that fill my eyes. Hastily I duck my head, blinking them away. I shed no tears all those years ago, and I adamantly refuse to let them fall now. I deserve neither the luxury of grief nor the solace those tears would afford me; for although another may have been the instrument of my sister's death, I was its cause… the blame mine, and mine alone.

Looking up, I gaze again into the crimson eyes of my love. "Why, Hiei?" I murmur, "why?"

He reaches out; tiny hand softly caressing my cheek. "I cannot answer that, Kurama," he replies with a shake of his raven-haired head. "You have never spoken of her to me; other than to tell me you once had a sibling. I know not who she was or why you refuse to speak of her – even to me." He is silent for a moment, choosing his next words with great care. "Perhaps," he finishes, eyes never leaving mine, "it is time you did."

Now it is my turn to be silent… my turn to study him. It does not take me long to come to my decision; the merest span of a few moments only.

"Her name was Kasumi," I begin, "though I never called her anything other than 'Wildflower'." I smile briefly at the memory. "For that was what she was… my wildflower."

Although the story is begun somewhat hesitantly, the tale unfolds rapidly; my initial reluctance to speak of her – to renew the pain I'd successfully (or so I thought) buried within myself so long ago – having passed, and my words flow easily as I tell Hiei of my sister and our life together. It is only when I come to the final chapter of that life that I begin to falter, and yet, glancing at him, I know that he understands; that knowledge reinforced by the hands that reach out to clasp mine, silently offering me his strength with his love. Taking a deep breath, my eyes locked upon the warm vermilion ones of my love, I begin…..

:Flashback:

The day had dawned clear and bright; one of those only rarely seen in the Makai. The sun, high in a sky of crystalline blue, was a brilliant lemon yellow; the air, perfumed with the scent of new spring growth, was warm as Youko Kurama made his way along the forest path. His pace quickened as the hours passed; each step bringing him closer to his destination – a small tree-house nestled in a glade hidden deep within the wood he now walked.

More than a year had gone by since he'd last visited; far too long a time without seeing her. And yet, he had to remain cautious. With his reputation, he could not risk endangering her by visiting more often. No one knew of their relationship. In all his long years of thievery, he'd been extremely careful in that regard. She was his most cherished treasure and for her safety, Youko Kurama's sister was also his most closely guarded secret.

Continuing along the path, Kurama soon came to the edge of the glade. He frowned slightly as he stepped into the clearing. It was quiet, but that was not what bothered him as it was always quiet here – 'peaceful', he reflected, the word coming unbidden to his mind. The problem was, he'd normally sense his sister's aura long before he stepped into the glade, yet this time it was noticeably absent. Chiding himself for his foolishness – she was, after all, a healer and had probably just been called away to exercise her skills – he continued on; but suddenly halted, all his senses on alert as the sharply metallic scent of blood reached him.

Raising his head, Kurama sniffed the air, his earlier apprehension turning to outright fear as

his sensitive nose confirmed the blood was new – no more than an hour old, if that, and it was coming from the house. The fox demon remained rooted in place for no more than a hairsbreadth before he took off running toward the house, screaming her name, "KASUMI!" as he ran; his mind begging for her to answer his desperate call, yet a part of him already knowing she would not.

The tree-house stood as it always had – stalwart, unyielding to the ravages of time. It was, in actuality, a massive Makai willow that had been torn asunder; cleaved in two by lightening eons ago. Half of it had come to rest on the floor of the glade and long since petrified; the other half still stood tall and proud, its gracefully arcing branches, heavy with their green, leafy tendrils, providing not only natural shade for the house on warmer days, but perfect concealment from potential enemies as well.

He'd found it as he'd hunted for food for them – both of them then in their teens, though Kurama just barely so. Kasumi had been enchanted when he'd brought her to the glade and shown her the tree. They'd decided to claim the clearing as their own and built a small, but sturdy house on the lower half. His sister loved this place and the home they'd built together. She had remained long after Kurama had left to start a life of his own – a life as the legendary Youko Kurama, King of Thieves.

Kurama wasted no time as he got to the house. Racing up the lower trunk upon which the house had been built, he paused only for the moment it took to reach his hand out and wrap slender fingers around the small iron ring set within the door. Chest heaving and breath coming in smothered gasps, he slowly pulled the ring up; the smell of blood overwhelming as he pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

Late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the small mullioned windows, diffused by the willow's new green strands. Sharp, amber eyes adjusted quickly to this soft light as Kurama carefully scanned the room. Silver-furred ears flicked slowly back and forth as he walked farther into the room, trying to isolate any unnatural sounds not only within the place where he now stood but the rest of the house as well.

The living area itself was not large; the dominant feature, the low mahogany table in the very center of the room. Scattered around the table, and throughout the room itself, were large pillows filled with the finest goose down and covered in the richest silks; their jewel-toned hues of eggplant and sage adding elegance to the simplicity of the table. Beyond this, an arched doorway led to the kitchen area; a short set of stairs there leading up to the sleeping quarters that had been built into the low branches of the massive willow's other half.

Kurama's eyes saw none of this, however. They were focused solely on the table – its top littered with rolls of pristine white bandages; a bowl of water and used, bloodied cloths; and a few jars of herbal salves and ointments.

His sister was a 'touch empath', meaning that she had the ability not only to feel others' emotions through touch, but also to heal through that same touch – the wound transferring from the injured to her own body, which would then heal itself. This type of healing, though, required a great deal of energy and left her weakened for a time. Thus, she never used it except in the most dire of circumstances; preferring instead, to utilize more conventional means for any non-lethal wounds or illnesses.

Yet, as he continued to look at the table, he did not see the remnants of his sister's work; his mind registered them at the periphery of his field of vision only. Instead, his golden eyes were fixed upon a small piece of rolled parchment, carefully set apart from the other items that adorned the table top, and beyond that, to the figure that lay supine in a pool of its own blood.

Time seemed to stop as Kurama moved slowly around the table, never taking his eyes from the body on the floor. Pain – the same searing pain he'd felt years ago when Kuronue had forced him to run, leaving the bat demon to die alone – wrapped around his heart as he sank to the floor beside the body of his sister. Reaching out, he closed her sightless eyes. 'Never again', he thought, the pain tightening around his heart, 'will these eyes marvel at the stars'. Leaning over, he gently wrapped his arms around the still form and lifted her. Cradling her in his embrace, he laid his cheek against the silky silver of her head and began to rock her.

"My Wildflower… My Wildflower… ai shiteru," he whispered over and over as he continued rocking the body he held.

It had been a slow death. She had, literally, been ripped open – gutted like a fish – the knife entering at her abdomen then pulled upwards to stop just below her heart. She had suffered; whoever had done this to her had made sure of that.

Through the haze of his pain, Kurama suddenly remembered the small parchment roll sitting on the table. It had not been part of the healing paraphernalia his sister used. Rather, it had been set apart; deliberately placed away from the other items… and it had been done for a reason.

Carefully laying the body in his arms back onto the floor, cradling the head with one of the pillows, Kurama reached over, snatching the parchment off the table. Opening it, he read the words contained within…..

To the Youko, it said. Years ago, you took something precious from me. Now, I return the favor.

:End Flashback:

A gentle squeeze of the hands holding mine brings me back from my nightmare, and I look again into the crimson eyes of my love.

"I buried her beneath the willow, on the other side of the house she so loved," I tell him, "then I left, sealing the glade behind me so that no one could find and disturb her resting place. After that, I set out, searching for the one who had taken her life. A month later, and quite by accident, I found him in a tavern, bragging about how easy it had been to trick a kitsune healer and take her life. He even had the sapphire pendant I'd gifted her with on her last birthday." I stop a moment, taking a deep breath. When I continue, it is with ice in my voice.

"I took his life – as slowly and as painfully as he had hers; torturing him until at last, just before his death, he confessed the name of the one who'd hired him to exact revenge upon the legendary Youko Kurama."

My story finally at an end, I again lower my gaze, staring at the small hands; tiny fingers interlaced with my own. Silence pervades the room; each of us busy with our own thoughts. I cannot look at him; cannot bear to see the outrage, the disgust I'm sure he must feel toward me.

Slowly, he extricates one hand from mine. I feel a single finger beneath my chin and then he tips my head up so that our eyes meet. In his, I see nothing but sorrow and his overwhelming love for me.

"What was it, Fox?" Hiei asks softly. "Will you tell me what could possibly have been so precious that it would cause someone to demand such retribution?"

The questions are tentative; almost as if he fears to ask them or, perhaps, it's that he's afraid of what my answer will be. I do not answer him right away, and in that brief moment of silence, his hand leaves my face. Returning it to mine, he again entwines our fingers, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as he does so. I return the caress, my eyes locked on the ruby orbs of my love.

"You've heard of the 'Light of Evermore', haven't you?" I ask, my voice a mere whisper of sound in the quiet of our bedroom.

Widened crimson eyes and a sharp intake of breath assure me that he has. "Sadoku!" He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. "Baka kitsune!" he smirks slightly. "Only you would be so bold as to challenge that soul-less tyrant!"

"It was not audacity," I reply, "nor did I mean to challenge him in any way. In fact, I had no desire for the 'Light' at all."

"Then… why?"

"Vanity, Blackfire," I sigh, "nothing more." A small, mirthless smile graces my lips before I hasten on with my explanation. "You know the stories – Sadoku the Cyclops, ruler of the Dark Mountains and lord of the supposedly impregnable, Castle Obsidian."

Castle Obsidian – so named because, in fact, that is exactly what it was. Built into the side of Mount Kurokumo in the Dark Mountain range of the western Makai, it was fashioned entirely from black obsidian. Stories abounded within the Makai of this black jewel… how none had dared to breech its walls, to penetrate that which was thought to be impenetrable – that is until…..

"It was a temptation Youko could not resist… to do that which was thought to be impossible. And so I made my way to the Dark Mountains. For weeks I did nothing but watch… and wait… learning all I could about the castle and its occupants. Finally, after more than two months, I was ready to make my move. I'd discovered a breech, albeit a tiny one, in the western wall – nothing more than a small sewer tunnel, covered by a rusting grate. It was all I needed. I made my way inside, and keeping to the shadows within the castle, found my way to the treasure room."

Here I drop my eyes, fixing them on the hands in mine. I had said that vanity had been the sole reason for what I'd done; yet in reality, there was another reason as well… one for which Youko Kurama was well known, and for which years later, his sister would pay with her life. That reason was nothing more than pure, unmitigated greed.

"Kurama?" Hiei's quiet baritone rouses me from my thoughts, and I gift him with another sad smile.

"I told you that I hadn't meant to take the 'Light', and I hadn't. I'd only planned to break into the vault, take a few meaningless baubles, leave the usual 'clue' so they'd know who'd been there, and go."

"But you changed your mind?"

Another nod, this one accompanied by a soft sigh. "I was about to leave, when a small cherry wood box, intricately carved, caught my eye. Intrigued, I walked over to the shelf upon which it lay and picked it up. Upon opening it, I saw it contained an exquisitely carved vial of Makai crystal; and contained within that vial, an iridescent flame that burned brighter than any star in the heavens. I knew, of course, immediately what it was. I also knew that I would not leave without it. And so I took it; leaving a rose upon the shelf in its stead."

I raise my face to my lover's, feeling the mist of the tears I will not shed once more. "It was my greed that murdered her, Hiei," I murmur, shaking my head to rid myself of the wetness in my eyes. "I killed her… her death is my fault… my fault!"

"No, Fox," he replies, his voice gentle, "it is not. You must stop blaming yourself. She would not want you to continue to do so." He pauses a moment, looking down at our hands as if to gather his thoughts. "Maybe," he continues, raising his head to look over at me, "that is what these dreams mean. Perhaps it's her way of telling you that you need to let yourself grieve for her death and to remember her, not with guilt and remorse but the joy and love you two once shared."

He gifts me with one of his rare smiles. "After all, wasn't it you who once told me that there is nothing to be gained by dwelling on the past and that which cannot be changed?" he asks.

"I did," I agree, "and I... I know you're right….."

"But….."

I raise an eyebrow, and he smirks, "don't look at me like that, Fox. I know there's a 'but' in there somewhere."

I can't hide my smile. He is my mate… the other half of my soul; and he knows me – perhaps better than I know myself. Taking my hands from his, I reach out, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close.

I chuckle as I feel small arms encircle my waist, and a small head rest lightly against my chest.

"You're right, as usual, Blackfire," I concede. "What I was going to say, though, was that I suppose I've always been much more adept at giving advice than taking it."

"Hn… stupid Fox," he mutters affectionately, and I smile, knowing that he is right… about everything.

Reaching down, I place my fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up. Leaning down slightly I capture his soft lips in a deep, passionate kiss; the world around us fading away as I lose myself in the wonder that is my love.