Okay…finally got this posted!
Thanks to all to read and reviewed chapter 1 and those who read and reviewed the preview of chapter 2 I posted a few weeks ago. Sorry to keep you waiting for the rest of it--life kept getting in the way, and then this chapter seemed to take on a life of it's own and kept getting longer and longer. Hope it was worth the wait. If not, I'm sure you will let me know. J
Please let me know if I got any of the details wrong (ie: does the canon refer to Kurama's stepfather as "Kazuya" or "Hatanaka?"). I decided to nix any use of honorifics or popular Japanese reference phrases, simply because I wouldn't want to screw them up. I also nixed different spellings for Kurama as Shuichi and his stepbrother Shuichi because you're all pretty intelligent and can figure it out for yourselves. And, if you can't, that means I've done a lousy job as a writer distinguishing between the two. J
It was the most primal, gut-wrenching scream Hiei had ever heard escape from Kurama's lips, save the ones that ripped through him as Karasu ripped him apart. The pitiful cry, combined with the spiritual energy emanating from Kurama tore through Hiei with a chilling, cringe-inducing jolt. In the past, Kurama had once described a similar feeling as "fingernails on a chalkboard." Hiei didn't know exactly what that meant—merely that it was vaguely uncomfortable, creating a feeling of someone running a claw down his spinal column and causing his flesh to prickle.
Kurama's hands flew to his mouth to stifle the sound as his scream gave way to heavy gasping, and, finally, guttural sobs welling up from deep within him. He was trembling from head to toe and drew his knees to his chest. Through the tears, Hiei thought he saw Kurama's pained eyes flash gold, only intensifying his distress. His youko soul was fighting to regain some control and composure. But, apparently, demon pride and years of experience were not enough to soothe the terror in a 15 year-old human heart. For the first time, Hiei actually saw Kurama for the human child he was. Kurama was so…young… They all were. Hiei would have snorted in disgust had he not been so…concerned.
After all, Kurama was the cool intellect of the team, the stoic strategist…he was the pillar of the group. And that pillar was crumbling. Would the rest of the structure come crashing down around them as a result? If Kurama couldn't handle his nightmares and flashbacks, what would happen to the rest of them as their own nightmares threatened to overtake them?
I should go…Kurama wouldn't want to be seen like this… Hiei's mind was willing to retreat and give Kurama some privacy; his feet, however, disobeyed, curiosity overriding his rationale. Even worse, they were leading him closer to the window instead of away from it.
A light flickered on in the hallway outside of Kurama's room. Finally, Hiei's feet came to their senses and swiftly returned him to his hiding place. Hiei had just nestled in among the leaves and Kurama was still struggling to control his tears—futilely wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his pajamas—when a silhouette darkened his door.
"Shuichi!" his mother gasped. She rushed into the room, her bathrobe fluttering behind her like a giant gossamer butterfly. "Oh, Shuichi…" she sighed, cradling his face in her hands, "you're shaking like a leaf!" Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shiori tenderly brushed Kurama's hair out of his face. "Another nightmare?"
By now, Kurama had restrained himself enough that his sobs were tapering off into spastic sniffles. The blood rose to his ashy cheeks as his glassy green eyes dropped in shame, unable to meet Shiori's prying gaze. He nodded weakly. "S-sorry," he stammered through sniffles, "I-I d-didn't m-mean to w-wake you…"
"Shhhh…." Shiori whispered, "I was still up anyway." She kissed the top of his head, pulling him into a tight embrace. Kurama's head dropped against her shoulder, wetting it with fresh, silent tears. "Shhhh…" she repeated reassuringly, stroking his hair and gently rocking him. Kurama relented and melted into her embrace. He wrapped his arms around his mother, clinging to her as if his life depended on it.
Hiei scoffed. How easily Kurama had fallen into his mother's arms. It was almost like she had cast some sort of magical enchantment over him. Did she? Humans did not usually possess such abilities. Kurama had explained that it was love that bound him so intrinsically to his mother. Hiei sneered. Love was not compelling magic…was it? No, he reasoned, it was an emotion. Emotions were for the weak. Though certainly not weak, Kurama had allowed this…hug…to happen. He welcomed it, even. He would need to harden his heart in preparation for his eventual return to the Makai. Wearing one's heart on one's sleeve was a liability—usually a fatal one.
And yet, Hiei's own heart felt an unfamiliar stab while watching the scene unfold before him. Shiori holding her son…it seemed to calm Kurama somewhat…a mother's touch…that pang again…a yearning…was that jealousy? Longing?
Quickly pushing such worthless thoughts from his mind, Hiei turned his attention, instead, to the new shadow that eclipsed Kurama's doorway. He was just beginning to make out its features when said shadow flipped on the light switch, assaulting his eyes with sudden blinding brightness. Hiei recoiled from the burning artificial daylight, losing his balance and nearly falling out of the tree as a result. Stifling a curse, he remounted his branch, rubbing his watering, stinging eyes. Damn humans and their feeble, light-craving eyesight…
"Shiori?" Kurama's stepfather—Hatanaka Kazuya—asked from the door, hedging into the room, "Is everything alright?"
"Another nightmare," she quietly explained as he gingerly stepped over the broken glass on the floor. Pausing briefly, he stooped over and plucked something off the ground. Hiei craned his neck to see. Kazuya set a wilting rose on the nightstand. The rose's vase must have been the object Kurama knocked over moments ago.
"I see…" Kazuya sat next to Shiori on the bed. He placed one reassuring hand on his stepson's back and wrapped the other around his wife. "He's still shaking…must have been bad…" He rubbed Kurama's back comfortingly.
Shiori only sighed in response, burying another kiss in Kurama's hair. She looked like she was about to cry herself. A certain weariness settled upon her—apparently, this had been going on for some time. Probably several weeks—since the tournament ended, Hiei surmised.
"I'd have nightmares, too, if the dark man hung outside my window every night."
Four heads—three inside the room, one outside—snapped to stare at the young man perched in the doorway. Kurama's younger stepbrother—Shuichi…just like Kurama's human name…right?—looked slightly disheveled, as if he had just crawled out of bed, appearing more curiously annoyed than scared at the thought of the "dark man."
"Dark man?" Shiori blinked, dumbfounded, still keeping her arms circled tightly around her son.
The younger teen frowned. "Yeah…he's short…spiky hair…wears all black…with red eyes. I've seen him."
Kurama's eyes flitted nervously to the window. Hiei was pretty sure Kurama couldn't see him, but he might have sensed him by now. He quickly tried to mask his spirit energy—he didn't want his presence known. "Voyeur" was one thing he didn't need to add to his already lengthy list of faults. Yet he stayed…
The glassy orbs flickered with recognition, then dulled as a puzzled expression crossed Kurama's face. He had sensed him—if only briefly. Hiei could feel Kurama reaching out with his mind, blindly groping for the presence of the fire demon, checking to see if it had been a figment of his imagination.
"…right Shuichi?" his stepbrother finished, interrupting the fox's search.
"Huh?"
"The little dark guy—at your window—you had to have seen him. You know what I'm talking about, right?"
"No…I'm sorry…I don't know what you're talking about," Kurama lied, his usual veil of youko calm finally descending over his features and masking the turbulent storm brewing behind his emerald eyes. The change didn't go unnoticed by his mother, who tensed as her son withdrew into himself.
"His name is Karasu," Shuichi pressed, unconvinced, "I've heard that name. You cry it out in your sleep…"
Hiei growled. He wasn't sure whether he should be impressed by the young man's perceptiveness or insulted that he had been mistaken for that…that demonic bastard. Insulted…definitely insulted.
"He frightens you." Completely tactless and naïve. Nonetheless, his voice brimmed with concern.
Kurama's composure fractured. He visibly blanched several shades at the mention of that name and his eyes clouded over. Slender fingers reflexively clenched the folds of Shiori's bathrobe as his hands began trembling again and his voice faltered. "I…"
"Enough," Kazuya gently rebuked, rising and approaching his son, "you're upsetting your brother." He chuckled, "Your imagination these days. Really. C'mon…back to bed with you." He placed his hands on Shuichi's shoulders and began steering the boy back to his room.
"But…"
"No butts," Kazuya playfully swatted the teen's behind for emphasis, propelling the boy towards his room, "Back to bed. Now."
"Dad!"
Ah…the exasperated, melodramatic sign of teenage disgust… Hiei had heard that tone of voice from Yusuke and Kuwabara enough times to…really…loathe…it. It was grating.
Their father/son banter continued down the hall, out of earshot. Moments later, Kazuya reappeared in the door. "I…uh…hmm…perhaps I should get Shuichi something do drink. Juice?" The question, oddly enough, was directed at Shiori, not Kurama. Meaningful glances passed between the two adults, followed by a slight nod of Shiori's head. Parental concern? Or something more?
"No, thank y—"
"It'll do you some good," Shiori coaxed, "I can tell your throat is sore."
Kurama glanced uncertainly between his mother and stepfather. Good…he knows they may be up to something… Hiei mused.
"Um…o-okay…" he hesitantly agreed.
Or maybe not. Stupid fox. Then again, Kurama probably knew his parents better then Hiei did.
Kazuya disappeared again, his heavy footfalls thudding down the stairs. An awkward silence settled between mother and son. So awkward, in fact, that it even made Hiei feel vaguely unsettled. No…this feeling was something else. Something that always made the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end.
He was being watched.
Hiei's head snapped in the direction of the other window on the second floor—Shuichi's bedroom.
Hands parted the blinds, revealing nothing but a set of inquisitive eyes peering into the darkness outside. They eyes narrowed, focusing on Hiei's tree.
Damn! Hiei's heart skipped a beat and landed squarely in the pit of his stomach. Had he been seen? Sure, he could make his get away fast enough, but there would be questions. He could just envision Kurama's eyes dancing with wry amusement as he asked, "Hiei, have you been spying on me?" Even worse, the questions Kurama might have to answer to his family—or the authorities. "Dark men" were usually not welcome snooping around people's houses at night and often resulted in calls to the police. Questions. Investigations. Stepped up neighborhood patrols. It would be more difficult to visit. Hiei's train of thought abruptly slammed on the brakes. Did he actually feel himself…caring…that he would not be able to visit Kurama? For what seemed like the hundredth time tonight, he found himself cursing this growing weakness his association with humans had spawned in him.
The eyes in the blinds shifted, travelling further up the tree.
Hiei released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Shuichi had not spotted him. At least, not yet.
"Shuichi, go to sleep!"
The blinds clapped shut, followed by the thumping of juvenile feet rushing back to bed. Heavier, slower footfalls replaced the scurrying patter, tracking Kazuya's return down the hall.
"Okay…here we go," he announced his return, drawing Hiei's attention back to Kurama's room. "We only had apple juice. I know it's not your favorite—"
"It's okay," Kurama smiled faintly as he took the glass from his stepfather. His hands were still shaking badly, causing the liquid to splash precariously in the cup. Kazuya sat next to Kurama and wrapped his hands around Kurama's, steadying Kurama's grip and pressing the glass to his lips.
Sipping gingerly, Kurama grimaced. "It's bitter," he complained.
"More so than usual?" his mother asked.
"No…I guess not…" Kurama did not seem to notice their nervous, passing glances—or pretended not to—as he finished off the juice.
But Hiei did notice. And, what's more, he noticed the dregs of juice in Kurama's glass appeared…gritty. Granted, he did not know much about human food, but he understood enough to know that most juice certainly did not contain granules.
Kurama handed the glass back to his stepfather and folded his hands in his lap. Kazuya went to place the glass on the nightstand. Spying the wilting rose and shattered vase on the floor again, he wisely moved the cup to the far side of the table, out of Kurama's reach.
Sighing, Kurama just sat and stared at his hands. After what seemed like an eternity of silence—broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric and the ticking of Kurama's clock—Shiori finally mustered the courage to attempt a conversation about the situation.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No…" Kurama muttered, continuing to stare at his hands and twisting the folds of his sheets. "It's nothing," he added as an afterthought.
"Shuichi…"
"No, really…" he blinked heavily. His eyelids dragged across his glassy eyes, as if it were an effort to open them.
"Shuichi, please…" his stepfather's voice was low, comforting, "your mother and I are worried. You haven't been sleeping well for weeks. Barely eating. Your grades are slipping. It's not like you."
"Even your garden's dying," his mother added, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ears and lovingly running her fingers through his locks. "Please…Shuichi…you can talk to us…"
"No…" he sighed—almost whimpered—"I…can't…" His brows knit together in frustration. Hiei could see the anguish written across Kurama's face as clearly as writing in a book. It was a struggle with which Hiei was all too familiar—a struggle starting to take its toll. The secret. A secret so intrinsic to the very fiber of his being that revealing it would change the foundation of his life—and the lives of those he sought to protect—forever. The desire to reveal everything was often explosively agonizing to contain. And draining. Constantly on guard, lest the wrong words accidentally slip from your lips…the wrong habits manifest themselves in your acts… Vigilantly prohibiting anything that may give your secret the power it needs to shatter your carefully constructed walls—your dam—swamping the floodgates of your life. Barely keeping your head above water, yet drowning all the same.
Only the fear of rejection—the possible torment that awaited—was worse.
Yukina…
Shiori…
Hiei shuddered. He only had to confront these demons on the rare occasion he and the others encountered Yukina. Kurama had to live it. Daily.
"Shuichi…who is Karasu?" his mother pressed, "what did he do to you?"
Kurama's sharp intake of breath startled all of them—even Hiei. "I…can't…" he repeated laboriously, his voice—and possibly his resolve—wavering.
There was something else behind those tumultuous green eyes. Something…"not right…" was the only way Hiei could describe it. More than the nightmares…the memories…his secret life…something more was working against him.
Something unnatural.
Hiei could sense it slowly siphoning off Kurama's energy, dulling his senses, weighing down his limbs. He knew Kurama felt it too—his anxiety flashed across Hiei's consciousness as Kurama attempted to fight off the fatigue slowly overtaking him.
Growling, Hiei scanned the area. He felt no unfamiliar energy—no demonic presence—that could be responsible. Yet something obviously was draining Kurama. If not auras, energy fields or other demons, then what?
"My…head…" Kurama moaned, attempting to raise his hands to his face. He only managed a few centimeters before his limbs flopped uselessly back into his lap. Panic ensued, and his already labored breathing collapsed into ragged, shallow gasps for air. His lively eyes lost their focus, but not before falling on the glass at his bedside. "Wha--?" he whimpered.
"Shhh…" Shiori continued to fawn over him, "it's okay…" Her eyes glistened, betraying the truth. It was her—she was somehow responsible.
Kurama's eyes briefly snapped back into focus. "You…drugged…me…" his speech slurred, but the betrayal in his voice was painfully evident. His eyelids dredged across his orbs once more, scraping away the clarity that had been there only moments earlier. The sorrow remained.
"Shuichi…" The tears spilled from her eyes. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" she cradled his head in her hands and pressed her forehead against his. "You're not sleeping…we didn't know what else to do…I'm—"
"s'o…k…" Kurama's head slumped against his chest in defeat. His eyes blinked slowly twice more, then closed with anti-climatic finality. Kazuya caught Kurama as his body crumpled, his head narrowly avoiding the headboard.
Shiori broke down sobbing. "What have we done?"
Kazuya gently laid Kurama down, adjusting the boy's limp, unresisting form to a more comfortable sleeping position before turning his attention back to his wife. "We did the right thing," he reassured, encircling her in his large arms.
"But…" she wept against his shoulder.
Freeing one arm, but keeping the other wound around Shiori, he reached out and stroked Kurama's hair. "He needs to sleep. So do you." Kazuya smiled at them affectionately. "A good night's sleep will do both of you some good. And then…well, we can cross that bridge tomorrow morning." He rose unexpectedly, "why don't you sleep in here tonight, just in case."
"You don't mind?"
"Of course not," he leaned over and planted a tender kiss on her lips. "He's a good boy, Shiori. And tonight, he needs you more than I do."
Shiori's eyes shone with gratitude; Hiei's flared with disgust. She was staying. He had no hope of getting in there now.
"Goodnight, Shiori," Kazuya called from the door as he paused to flip off the lights. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight." Her eyes lingered on the door a moment then fell on her son. "He's good to us, Shuichi," she murmured, caressing her sleeping son's cheek. Repositioning Kurama on his side, she nestled next to him on the small bed, fondly stroking his arm. Her hand hovered uncertainly above his upper arm.
Hiei knew that spot well—Karasu's bombs had torn through Kurama's arm like buckshot through tissue paper, slashing and searing muscle and tendon, exposing and nearly shattering the bone. To this day, they occasionally witnessed Kurama cradling that arm in his other hand, even though his spirit energy had already sufficiently closed the wound. Whether habit or phantom pain, no one knew for sure. Kurama wouldn't speak of it. And no one dared ask. They all had their own wounds to tend…and their own reasons for remaining reticent.
Tentatively, Shiori rested her hand upon Kurama's arm. Her eyes clouded over and an expression of immense sadness dulled her delicate features.
She knows.
Hiei frowned. How annoying to get caught up in the trifles and dramas of human affairs. Yet this certainly had been a night full of surprises. Kurama's nightmares. Hiei's presence detected and nearly exposed by the younger Shuichi. Kazuya and Shiori conspiring to drug their son "for his own good." Shiori's knowledge of Kurama's wounds.
But nothing prepared him for the words Shiori uttered next. Words tripping lovingly from her lips, ignorant of their own gravity. Words that—as she laid down next to Kurama and enfolded him in the warmth of her arms—would have made the fox demon's blood run cold. Words which had the ability to stop even Hiei's hardened heart.
"Goodnight, Shuichi," she whispered, kissing his head, "sleep well, my little youko."
Okay…that's the end of this chapter (finally). Sorry about the funky spacing between paragraphs--I just can't seem to get Word to convert to html correctly. Technology. Go figure.
So…my next question for you all is: do you actually want to see a Kurama's dream or just leave it up to your own devious little minds? I have an idea, but I'd hate to disappoint, suggestions are always welcome, and I could go either way (dream or no dream), really. Remember, I'm shooting for a PG-13, non-yaoi fiction here.
Additionally, anybody interested in beta- reading this as I complete bits and pieces on it? I feel kind of weird just throwing it up here without a proofreader and some feedback.
Thanks!