PreAuthor's Ramblings: This is the sequel to A Glass Rose, and I'd like to dedicate it to all of my faithful reviewers who stuck with me through the production of the fanfic despite all of the context.
As always, I do not own YuYu Hakusho, it is sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi and all third parties (not me)holding legal rights to the context.
Enjoy.
Closure
---
Time heals what reason cannot.
---
What's done is done.
I know this all-too-well. I knew this as I took up the ancient art of blood letting as my hobby; I knew this as I lay confined to the hospital bed as a result; I knew it as I dealt with the shattering truth that was my diagnosis; and ultimately, I knew this as I took it upon myself to end everything in a final act of repentance.
Yet now, after all is said and done, although I know the fact well, it's infinitely harder to accept.
In the wake of my suicide, for the night truly is long in the face of death, I have had much to think about. From the time my soul slipped seamlessly into this World to the present time, thoughts I never thought to confront have come to mind, and I know that I must face up to them eventually. These past hours in Reikai have slipped by slowly, yet assuredly, just as sand through the hourglass. And, while I await Koenma's summons, what have I to do but reflect upon the foregone hours?
In the long run, I never thought I would regret what I did, when it came down to it. As much of a moral dilemma as my action is, I never thought to regret. To live or to die? As much as people dispute the right of a person to choose death by their own hands, it is just that: Their right. My right. My life. I did as I chose. And while I cannot say I regret it, outright, given the circumstances surrounding the suicide, there are some things about how I carried myself during the time, which I do regret.
And there is little I can do to change that, given the present circumstance. Which, in and of itself, is another thing I regret; that there is nothing I can do to change the fact.
---
Truth never perishes.
---
"Minamino, Shuichi? Or, do you go by your alias, Kurama?"
Casting a wary glance at the girl whom had addressed me, I offer a small smile. "You must be an apprentice to one of the Ferry Women?" I inquire lightly, assuming the fact on the grounds that she did not already know me well enough to know my answer beforehand.
The girl nods vigorously, sending her frizzy auburn hair cascading down about her shoulders messily. Her eyes, the most curious shade of periwinkle, shimmer in happiness. "Yes, sir!" She grins.
I nod, feeling the corners of my lips twitching into a wider smile. Her happiness is contagious, and her bright ear-to-ear grin indulgent. "Best of luck with that," I offer. "And… Kurama is fine."
"Right!" She nods again, her hair bouncing about her shoulders. "So, Lord Koenma wants to see you now, Kurama."
"I suppose he does," I reply, hoping she hadn't taken note of the cynicism in my voice.
As I stand, stretching tiredly, I see her spring up beside me. "Well, come—"
"It's quite all right," I utter quickly, a laugh rising in the back of my throat at the sight of her so eager and ready to do her job. "I don't need an escort. I know the way well enough."
She stops, wide-eyed and curious. "You've been here that much?"
"You could say that," I chuckle, amazed at her innocence.
How on earth had she gotten on as one of Reikai's apprentices, I wonder. She looks, at least to my eyes, no older than 13 at best. And, age and appearance aside, she seems almost too naïve to be cut out for the kind of job she would eventually be doing. But, then again, looking at Botan and Hinageshi, I suppose it makes sense.
She looks slightly crestfallen at my reply, and fidgets nervously with the large, leather-bound Grade Book that she totes with her. "You're sure?" She asks impishly, eyeing me through upturned lashes.
I nod reassuringly. "Yes, quite sure."
At my response she lets out a winded sigh and casts me a putout look. "Aw, all right," she pouts. And before I can so much as reply, she straightens herself up, clutching the Grade Book to her chest protectively, and scoots off in the far direction of the hall.
I watch her retreat until her mass of russet hair disappears from my line of vision. A few minutes after her departure I catch myself in a sigh. "What a strange young woman."
The sight of her raises some questions within me, however.
For instance, why Koenma had asked that she fetch me instead of one of the regular attendants. Normally, a Ferry Woman would send you on your way; normally, it was the Ferry Woman that escorted you to Reikai in the first place. Considering that Ayame had been my escort, and given the fact that she was Koenma's personal assistant, of course she couldn't be bothered with something so trivial as showing me to Koenma's office. But, that brought forth another question. Why the apprentice? Why not Botan? Or Hinageshi? As much as what I did may have upset them, I know well enough that Botan can work through it, and as a Ferry Woman in her own right, Hinageshi should be able to as well.
"No matter," I assure myself mildly as I wander the Temple halls on my way to answer Koenma's summons. "I'm sure all will be made clear in due time."
---
He will live ill, who does not know how to die well.
---
As I approach his office, George—more affectionately known as Ogre—is already waiting for me. I greet him politely, as my moral upbringing demands, and let him lead me through the main doors. The shift from the quiet halls bordering the temple to the bustle of Koenma's office is rapid. And, as ever, expected.
Having instantly been immersed in a swarm of busybodies, I bid Ogre a quick farewell and wade through the mass clutter alone. A few minutes later, I find myself on the opposite side of the chamber, standing before Koenma's desk. His chair is turned back to me.
"You wanted to see me?" I ask, clearing my throat to announce my arrival.
Slowly, the chair turns around until I find myself looking at the Junior Ruler himself. His expression, while not completely unwelcoming, is not the most pleasant, either. "Good to see you, Kurama."
Something tells me he said it solely for formality's sake. Nonetheless, I offer a curt nod.
A moment of silence transpires between us. And, in the passing moment, I am made painfully aware of the worn, tired look gracing his young face. He has retained, rather unusually, his teenage form. His eyes, deep chestnut in color and harboring a humorous glint, seem dull—tired, empty, devoid of life. And the air with which he usually held himself had been replaced as well. No longer did he come across as arrogant or cocky, he was merely worn, serious and… agonized?
"Please, sit." He motions towards the chair I am standing beside with a slow wave of his hand.
Lowering myself into the plush seat, I mutter the appropriate thanks, lean back, tuck my legs neatly under me, lace my fingers together atop my knees patiently and wait. "To business, then?"
He sighs and nods listlessly at my brusque, to-the-point-as-ever demeanor. "I suppose we really can't put this off any longer, Kurama."
"I don't suppose we can," I agree quietly.
He nods and pulls a massive file from his cluttered desk—presumably, my file. He casts it a tired, almost scathing look, before he turns to me. "You know, Kurama, my job is never easy. Having to sit here, all high and mighty, condemning or saving a person's soul… When it's one of my own—" He gives me a pointed look, then continues on, his tone full of dull, sorely disguised, pain. "—The job is doubly hard. And, I could only hope that the day I would have to sentence one of you would be years away."
Seeing Koenma in a state like this was a new development. I suppose he had a point, however. People are quick to assume, and I was no different. I don't suppose I ever thought that it might be difficult for him to have to sentence one of us—his very friends.
"You know, I was dying either way." I assure him numbly; well aware of the undertones he made at me for what I had done.
"This didn't have to happen, Kurama. You know that. Sometimes—sometimes remissions just happen. You could have lived." His voice is thick.
"Don't be so naïve, Koenma," I reply sharply. "Was I supposed to wait for a Miracle?" I let out a harsh, biting laugh. "What would you have done?" I suppose I had come off sounding crueler than I had intended.
At my remark her glances up hastily, his russet eyes blazing, though not entirely out of anger. "What would I have done?" He repeats, his voice cracking in annoyance. "Something, Kurama! I don't know what, but I'd have done something… Besides," he shakes his head. "I'd rather do this knowing you died of natural causes. You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy these loopholes?" His voice wavers slightly. "Whether you see it or not, Kurama," he motions sharply towards my file. "You've caused me as much trouble alive, as Youko and yourself presently, as you have in death."
His words whip over me sharply and I reel back in shock, as though having just been slapped upside the face.
He shakes his head muttering incoherently and massages his temples. His eyes bore holes into his paper-laden desktop as he resumes his thread. "I don't know what to tell you, Kurama. I honestly don't. What you did is inexcusable in my eyes; from whichever angle you examine it. What you did, no matter how selfless you thought it was, has hurt a great number of people, my ignorant Kitsune friend."
"You don't think I don't know that?" I snap defensively, suddenly on guard.
He looks up quietly, his eyes speaking worlds. "No, I don't think you do, Kurama. I honestly don't think you do."
Again, his words wash over me sharply, leaving me feeling largely unexposed and vulnerable. He was trying to pick me apart—trying to make me feel guilty.
How dare he?
"I'm here for my sentencing, Koenma," I bark angrily, narrowing my eyes into a steely glare. My fingers have dug themselves into the plushy arm cushions for support. "This isn't what I'm here for. Do your job, you Stupid Toddler, and let me be," I voice scathingly, my tone venomous.
As angry as my words are, he meets my gaze unflinchingly. "No," he voices gently. "Kurama, what you did is unforgivable, and you can't expect to move on when you don't even understand the repercussions of your actions, much less if you won't accept them."
"I understand full-well, Koenma!" By now, Youko is burning in my veins, his essence pulsing through me with each angry palpitation of my heart, and I am careful to keep my emotions in check.
"No, you don't. You don't understand a thing, Kurama. I've seen this too many times, and I know otherwise. And don't tell me you accept what you did either." He gives me a strained smile. "Because you've been running away from every aspect of understanding and acceptance since you did this."
"I haven't run away from a thing!"
"You've run away from everything. Why did you refuse to say good-bye to your family and friends, Kurama? Why did you refuse Ayame's word that you still had a shot at Heaven? Why, even now, are you getting so defensive over something you claim to understand and accept?"
"Because—" I stop short. Why? "—Because… I…"
"You can't expect to move on until you come to grips with what you did, Kurama," he adds gently, looking more tired than I ever remember seeing him. "Running away won't help you, and denial isn't going to shield you. You've sealed your own Fate, and you should know better than any than trying to run from it."
"I told you," I level with him, unyielding, as ever, "I haven't run from anything."
"Denying it isn't going to help, Kurama. You did what you did and you can't change that. You can't go back. You've got to live with the choice you made, and I have to be the one to sentence you. That's just how it is."
"I'm not in denial. I know what I did."
"But you don't accept it," he points out in an all-knowing sense that gets readily annoying. "Kurama, it's all right to feel regretful and it's all right that you hurt. But, you can't expect me to sentence you until you come to grips with it."
"What's there to 'come to grips' with?" I snap impatiently.
"Your feelings, you Great Fool," he answers flatly, shaking his head slowly. "Being emotionless and cold in life may have gotten you far, Kurama, but here it's keeping you locked in a standstill. This indifference you exude is dangerous. And until you can come to grips with the situation and make amends—with your family and friends, and foremost with yourself—for what you did, I can't grant you ascension."
---
The first step towards amendment is the recognition of error.
---
This was foolish. Preposterous. How could Koenma possibly believe that I hadn't come to grips with what I had done? How could he know? And, even if he did, what did it matter? What business did he have to tell me to make amends? Amends for what? I made my choice, and I'm living with it. That's all that matters. Where does he get off on telling me how to go about running the rest of my existence? What right did he have to admonish me?
"Kurama?" The breezy tone draws me from my reprieve with a start as I realize that I had, once again, allowed my thoughts to run away with me.
"What is it, Botan?" I ask, careful to remove the bite from my tone as I address her.
"It's time to go…" she lets her voice trail off into the thick night sky and falls silent. I watch her intently for a moment, waiting to see if she would continue. She does not, however. Merely continues to play absently with her hair, twirling idle cobalt strands around her fingers with little intent.
This must surely be awkward for her, I reason. After all, the last time she had seen me, we had departed on less-than-friendly terms. And now, seeing me for the first time since that night, given the circumstances of our present meeting, it must be difficult for her. Which is understandable.
Given our present situation, I can understand her hesitance fully. Koenma had all but thrown me out of his office with the orders to "make amends with the life and the people you decided to throw out the window". And, to see to it that I did just that, he had ordered Botan to escort me to Ningenkai to see to it that the job was accomplished. And yes, I say he ordered Botan to, because that's just what he did. Botan did not volunteer for the job. In fact, she had adamantly refused outright. Yet, in the end, Koenma coaxed her into it.
"Botan?" Her name slips past my lips before I can catch myself.
She turns to look at me, her countenance rigid, expression guarded. "Yes?"
"I know this must be difficult for you—escorting me, I mean…" Suddenly I find myself unsure of what to say. Curious, I note. After all, I owed her no explanations. So why am I struggling?
She sniffs loudly in response, swatting listlessly at a loose strand of billowy hair that had blown into her amethyst eyes. "Just a bit," she mumbles thickly. "But, I'll live," she adds in a frosty undertone.
The iciness of her tone takes me aback slightly. "Yes… well. I'm—sorry, Botan."
"It's a bit too late for that now, Kurama," she whispers dryly, glancing at me with a hardened gaze.
Somehow this was not the response I had anticipated. Least of all from her. "I'm just trying to set things right between us, Botan. Won't you help me?" I inquire, the words coming out sounding cropped and painful.
"Kurama," she lets out a hollow laugh that echoes painfully in the still, clear, night air. "I tried so much to help you when you were alive; when my help would have made a difference. It's too late for that. It makes no difference now." She crosses her arms before her defensively; the long treads of her kimono sleeves billowing out before her in a tangled mess of roan-tinted fabric.
"Botan," I implore, reeling from her animosity towards me. "But, we're friends, aren't we?"
At this, she turns away from me altogether, leaving me staring at the knot of her obi. Her hair, pulled into its trademark ponytail, whips about her shoulders on the breeze and sprays about wildly. Her voice, when she speaks, is almost inaudible. "We were friends, Kurama. When it counted. And you didn't want me there. It didn't count when it would've made a difference; and now when it doesn't, it won't."
Her answer leaves me speechless. This was not at all what I had expected. Yes, of course, I knew she was angry with me. She had every right to be angry and upset, who was I to deny her that? But, this was Botan. Sweet, bubbly, happy-go-lucky, "never going to hate you unless you really, really give me a reason to," Botan. She could never stay angry with a person. Holding grudges just went against her nature. And yet, here she was, telling me pointblank that we were not friends. And, from the sounds of it, never would be again.
Somehow, it's no less than I should have expected. And yet, hearing it still takes me by surprise.
When she says no more to take back her sentiments, I stay silent as well. It is obvious that she does not wish to speak with me; she does not wish to be here at all. So, I shall not broach my presence on her. She wants nothing more than to do her job—that is, escort me to the houses of my friends so that I can make amends for my actions—and so I shall let her do her job in peace.
---
Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief is the blunder of life.
---
His house has changed little since the last time I had visited, I notice mindlessly as I take in my surroundings. In the darkness, thick with the bitter scent of alcohol, I can see the misshapen silhouettes of crushed aluminum cans glowing eerily silver from idle rays of moonlight permeating the room. And the painful, jagged edges of broken glass from shattered beer bottles glitter dangerously from their bedding in the thin carpet.
I make my way from the room quickly to escape the nauseating smell, and wander listlessly down the corridor leading to Yuusuke's room. I still do not wish to be here, but with Botan trailing behind me, her demeanor truly cold as death itself, I have little choice but to do what I was sent out to do.
The cramped hall empties into his room, and I am shocked to see that state that it is in. The last time I had come to call, it had been tidy—or at least more so than the rest of the house. Now it had taken a drastic turn for the worst. Dirty clothes lined the floor like a second carpet, and to each article clung the acidic smell of cigarette smoke. A mess of empty bottles—beer bottles—filled the trashcan and occupied the dresser top.
"Yuusuke, you fool," I sigh quietly, shaking my head in disarray. How could he have let this happen to himself? Behind me, I here Botan let out a stifled sob, and I turn to her slowly. "Botan, I'm—"
"Don't!" she snaps defensively, swiping at the tears forming on her thick lashes angrily. "Don't say it, Kurama. I don't want to hear it. He's like this because of you," she enunciates the word drastically. "Ever since your wake, this is how he's been," she adds in a bitter undertone, not trying in the slightest to hide the frigid, accusatory tone in her voice.
I flinch at the tone of her words, and the countless truths she speaks. Turning away from her again, I draw myself over to Yuusuke's futon instead, only to find him sprawled beneath the covers uneasily. His face is damp and his untamed raven hair clings to his forehead, and he is breathing raggedly through his mouth. Each shuddering exhaled breath he makes is laced with the bittersweet odor of stale alcohol.
"Yuusuke…" I spare a glance at his sleeping form and cast a sidelong glance at Botan behind me, who is standing stoically in the far corner, eyeing me with pained distrust. I turn back to my sleeping comrade and take a steadying breath in an attempt to find my voice.
"…I know you've already seen countless people die, my friend… And, I'm sorry that I must now add myself to those ranks," I begin uneasily, wondering just what I should say to him in regards to what occurred. "I do not expect you to understand my final act at repentance, Yuusuke… Please, don't think this was somehow your fault; that you could have prevented it. You couldn't have. It doesn't make you any less of a man, or a bad person. You've got a good head on your shoulders, Yuusuke, and a strong sense of value. Don't let it all go to waste just on my account. Make something of yourself; do something with your life—Don't let this incident stop you…"
In the run of my impassioned monologue, I catch my eyes drifting uneasily over to his desktop. Amid the clutter of deep brown and green bottles, one thing stands out—one thing that seems to have been largely spared in the complete ruination of his room.
A single, framed photograph of Keiko and himself standing in front of the Yukimura Ramen-ya.
I trace my forefinger along the smooth glass idly, my throat suddenly tight in unbidden emotion. Drawing my finger away, I leave a dust-free streak of glass in its wake that catches lingering moonbeams and sends them dancing across the white-washed walls.
"…And, Keiko…" I find myself continuing, speaking more to the photograph than to Yuusuke. "Tell her how you feel, won't you? She loves you, you know." I stop briefly in reminiscence, wondering just how love could have ever stemmed from their dysfunctional relationship. The thought elicits a hollow chuckle. "Just tell her, Yuusuke. It's high time you did. She can't wait forever, and you should know better than most that tomorrows aren't guaranteed for anyone."
I turn back to Yuusuke reluctantly. He is asleep, though his rest seems fitful. Part of me wishes to rage at him for letting himself go so horribly astray. Yet, the larger part of me feels guilty. Unbearably guilty at what I've driven him to do… The alcohol, the chain smoking, undoubtedly skipping even more of his classes…
"You need to stop what you're doing, Yuusuke," I tell him flatly, my voice restricted and stony. "My death is no reason to start down this road. Stop smoking. Stop the binge drinking… Stop this self-destructive streak you're on. You owe it to yourself and to Keiko to straighten up. She needs you, Yuusuke, and you can't be there for her if you're in a state like this. Clean yourself up, my friend, and go to Keiko… I'm sorry I won't be at your wedding." The beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of my lips at the mere thought of marriage in their future. Though, knowing there may well be, brings with it a wave of wistfulness in knowing that I shall never be there to see the new chapter in their lives unfolding. "But, please, Yuusuke, move on. Be happy. Keep on living…"
My voice fades off quietly, and I watch him for a long moment, half-wishing for him to wake, and half-wishing I were alive to say these things in person. Yet, I know neither will occur. I did all that I could, and all that remained was to hope that he heard me in his dreams and accepted my parting words.
A hand closing around my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts, and I stiffen instinctively. Turning numbly, I see Botan beside me, with her hand on my shoulder. For a moment I am in awe at the simplicity of her gesture, and amazed that, after not wanting to have anything to do with me, that she should do something such as this.
As small as the token-gesture is, it is a comforting motion, and I smile thinly at her, not wanting to push too far into delicate territory.
Her head is bowed, so all I find myself looking at is a crown of spectacularly azure hair before she turns her face upwards to look at me. Tears shimmer in her amethyst eyes and she blinks them back slowly, a shaky whisper falling off her lips before she lets her hand fall to her side and is gone from my side once again. "I-it's time to go, Kurama. It's time to go."
---
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
---
Standing numbly in my spot, a glance around with a sort of detached curiosity. Having never been in the household, as I had in Yuusuke's, I had no idea of what to expect. I suppose I had expected nothing short of anything better than the war zone Yuusuke had instilled upon his own house. Yet, standing here, as I am, I can see that the place is quite different.
His bedroom isn't atypicalof a high school boy's room. There is little more than a desk and chair in the corner, a dresser, a television stand harboring a small TV, and futon, as far as furnishings go. Strewn across the floor are old baseball magazines. I am happy to see that, also unlike his best friend, Kuwabara hasn't turned his place into a dumping ground for beer bottles, and that everything looks fairly in order as far as order goes when being used to describe a guy's room.
One thing strikes me as unusual, however. The curtains that should be covering the window facing his desk have been taken down, and are hanging limply over the back of his computer chair. Hung in place of them is a simple white cloth, fluttering lightly from night air leaking through the sill.
White. The color of mourning.
It is a simple gesture. And compared to the extremes Yuusuke resorted to, to show his mourning, it pales in comparison. However, it is a token, and one that still manages to raise a painful lump in the back of my throat. I look away quickly.
Kuwabara, I see, is also asleep. And, by all appearances, he seems to be sleeping at least somewhat soundly. He's snoring softly, and one of his hands is subconsciously petting the kitten curled into a tiny ball of fluff on his stomach.
"Botan," I mumble, not sparing her a glance, lest I be shot down. "We should go. He doesn't seem to be grieving—"
"Mmg… Kurama… Stupid fox…Why I outta…"
I stop abruptly and raise an inquiring eyebrow at him. He's still asleep. "Talking about me… in his sleep?" I ask quietly, surprised. He turns in the bed, sending the kitten off with a reproaching mew as it skitters down the bed to lie, instead, at his feet.
His face contorts shrewdly, eyes scrunching up and his mouth forming a thin line and then he lets out a haggard breath. "Why, you damn fox? Why?" His mouth twitches and he falls into another bout of soft snoring.
"Still think you should go without saying anything, Kurama?" Botan asks after an elongated moment of silence. There's something like knowing-amusement in her tone.
I sigh in resignation. "You're right, Botan…" I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts. As with Yuusuke, I haven't the slightest idea of what I should say, or of what even needs to be said. I don't know where to start. Finally, I settle on the same route I took with his friend.
"Kuwabara, my noble friend, you are another who has seen more than his fair share of suffering and death in your life. Forgive me, for now I am another to add to the roster…" I stop, finding mild amusement in the fact that I had used the term 'roster' in my explanation, knowing full well of his love for baseball.
"But… I know that this has probably upset you, for I know that you are, of us all, still the most innocent, and by far the most sensitive." I pause to wonder if, since he is also the most spiritually inclined of us, perhaps this could have waited until a better time. "In spite of everything, though, I ask you not to dwell on this and go forward with your life."
My eyes wander over to his desk, where several schoolbooks are propped open, filled with notes and memos. A stack of college ruled notebook paper and an uncapped highlighter sit beside them. "Work hard in your studies, Kuwabara… You'll go far…"
I stop, running out of words to say, and glance listlessly around his room for a few minutes. Perhaps something in here will trigger a reaction in me. But, as far as such items go, there is nothing overly unique about anything in the room. Magazines, school supplies, books, dirty laundry, a headband… Wait. A headband.
"And, remember to take care of Yukina, Kuwabara," I add softly, smiling weakly at the 'headband of love' dangling cumbersomely across his headboard. "She's young, but you can win her over. I know you'll make a find husband to her one day soon…" At the mention of another possible future for my friend, another wave of regret floods my soul. "And… help her find her brother. He's… nearer at hand… than you think."
"And, don't forget Yuusuke, all right?" I add hesitantly, with a pang of guilt as I remember the state he was in when I had last seen him. "Look after him. I know this has upset him… a great deal, actually, and he shouldn't go through this alone. None of you should. Friendship is a valuable key, so be careful to maintain it. Look out for each other, and take care of yourself… Kazuma."
I fall silent, casting my friend one good, long look before turning. "This is goodbye, my friend," I breathe out tiredly, as Botan joins me. The look she grants me as she nears is a soft one. Softer than what I've been graced with today at any rate.
I give an imploring look; tired and weary. She knows as well as I what remains. She nods in quiet understanding; a quiet agreement that it must be done, and that I needn't say the words. Yet, I know better, as they weight heavy and burdensome on my heart.
"Botan—" I whisper thickly, my throat tight.
"Kurama," she soothes, her voice still somewhat rigid, though her anger towards me is obviously beginning to melt away. "You don't need to say it."
I shake my head to disagree with her and stare long and hard at the carpet before responding. It needs to be said. "—I want to go home."
---
Our lives improve only when we take chances—and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves
---
Somehow, I guess I had half-expected things to be different. I don't know why per se that thought entered my mind, but it did. And, in light of it, I'm surprised to find that, for all my expectations, in the week since my passing, little has changed. I'm not exactly sure as to how I should feel about the fact, either.
"Kurama, you know… you don't have to do this right now. I'm sure Lord Koenma can make some arrangements for you to see Shiori after your sentencing…" Botan reasoned quietly from my side. Her frigid animosity towards me had all but vanished in the last few hours.
"I don't doubt that he could, Botan," I agree with a curt nod. "But, it's high time I laid things to rest. Koenma was right… I can't go on without offering proper closure to the people who've come to mean something to me over these past few mortal years."
"It's not about 'closure,' Kurama. That's not all that Lord Koenma wanted out of you." She shook her head hastily. "There's more to it than that, you know."
I stop abruptly. "I know that, Botan. Believe me, I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were—!" She cuts across me indignantly. "Honestly—"
"No. Listen to me, Botan, and listen to me well." She falls automatically silent at my tone of voice and gazes at me with wide, startled eyes. "I know what Koenma wants from me, Botan… He wants me to do exactly what I am now—going around and offering my farewells to everyone—and to realize that I made a mistake."
"Oh—But—"
"Let me finish," I interrupt her, shaking my head. "Botan, I'll do this, if it's what Koenma wants. He was right in that respect, I do owe explanations to a few people… But, I draw the line there. He wants me to come back to the Temple and tell him that I made a mistake… that I was wrong. Do you understand, Botan? I cannot say I made a mistake. I don't see it as one."
"Kurama… Really… I-it's…" She stumbles haphazardly over the words, her voice a mess of unbidden tears that threaten her eyes at the slightest provocation.
"Botan," I sigh breathily, my eyes focusing on her idly, "Please, don't make this any harder for yourself."
"I-I don't know what y-you're talking about, Kurama," she chokes out quickly, her composure crumbling steadily as a few crystalline tears bead at the corners of her bright eyes and slip slowly down her alabaster cheeks.
"I know full-well that you see what I did as a mistake. Just like Koenma, Botan," I begin gently, my eyes never once wavering from her face. "I can't deter you from how you feel, nor can I make you understand my decision… I know that it's hurt people, Botan, as much as Koenma doesn't seem to think so, I do know."
"So, why are you so guarded about everything if you do know it, Kurama?" Her voice is shaky and hoarse from tears. "Why do you act so indifferently?"
"Because caring will not change the fact, Botan."
At this, the last bit of composure she had clung to so tenaciously fell away and she gave in to the tears that welled un-checked behind her heavy lashes.
"Oh, Kurama," she sobs quietly, as though hearing the words spoken had just shattered her world. I think that, at my saying it, she must have had to realize and accept the truth that she'd been adamantly refusing until now.
"Stop this," I command softly, reaching out to grab her hand as she raises it, poised to wipe away the tears dripping down her cheeks. "It brings no good, Botan." I tighten my hold on her hand and bring the other up to her cheek, swiping my thumb across the damp flesh wordlessly. "I'm sorry," I whisper quietly, sincerely.
She lets out a quiet sob, nodding her head in a slow motion, "I-I know," she chokes out thickly.
Using my ever-present grip on her hand as my incentive, I gently tug her forward, guiding her towards my shoulder. She allows herself to fall against me and buries her head in the crook of my neck, sobs silently wracking her body. "Believe me, Botan… So do I," I mumble between her sobs, as I stroke back her hair in deft reassurance. "So do I…"
---
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.
---
"Mother," the word falls heavily from my lips, my tone carrying it along the still, bedroom-air like a hollow echo.
She looks so frail in bed. Her thin figure, framed crudely by a mess of thick, cluttering bed sheets, makes her look fragile next to the turned form of her sleeping husband. As though the slightest gust of wind could break her. And her face, once so young and radiant with health has become gaunt, the hollows around her angular cheeks becoming more pronounced. And, it is the first time that I can see truly how old she really is. The crows' feet set around her eyes, the laugh lines…
"I…" The words form blurrily in my mind and I struggle to make sense of them. Each new word is hard to pull from the recesses of my hazy mind, so the prospect of stringing together entire sentences is almost ominous. "Mother, I…"
"I love you, Mother… I know you don't understand. Why I would do this. Why me? How could I?" I stop to re-check my thoughts. The words coming from my lips sound bitter, resentful even. She doesn't deserve to be spoken to as such.
"There's so much that I could say to you, Mother. Innumerable reasons I could give. Yet, you would never understand how it could lead to this. I've left you hurting, and I've left you not truly knowing just who your son is, Mother, and for that, I am sorry. But, I never was the child you thought me to be… And, perhaps that is what drove me to do what I did…"
"There were several factors, really…" I stop, clearly recalling each and every thing that could have possibly built up the climactic point at which I decided to end my life. "Depression… Genkai-obaasan's death… I started cutting… Ending up in the hospital as a result—" I neglect to mention what drove me to the escapade that had landed me there in the first place. "—Leukemia… Financial Problems…"
As I recount the things that lead to my undoing, Botan, beside me, stifles another sob. I don't suppose she, nor anyone, truly grasped just how awry my life had gotten before the initial end of it.
"It's really no excuse," I nod to myself, thinking of what she would be saying to me right now. "I know that. I've always known that, Mother. But, I cannot change what was done. And, neither, I'm afraid, can you."
I cast a sidelong glance at Hatanaka sleeping beside her and turn once more towards her. "I want you to be happy, Mother. You still have Hatanaka and Shuuichi. They still need you."
She takes a shuddering breath, and I stop in my monologue long enough to glance down at her to see a single tear slipping from her eyes.
"It's okay for you to cry, Mother… And it's alright to grieve… But, please, you have to continue living for the sake of your family."
I bend down, carefully brushing pale wisps of her auburn hair from her eyes, and kiss her gently on the forehead. "You have to continue living for me."
---
To all, death is release; to some, it is a gift; to most, it is a favor.
---
"That's just about everyone, then, Kurama," Botan informs me slowly, as we leave my house. I notice the tightness of her voice and the hesitance in her tone.
"Just about, yes," I comply, nodding listlessly, deciding to pay no mind to her reluctance. "What of Hiei?"
She stiffens visibly, her voice faltering. I hit a nerve. "Well, um… yes," she begins shakily, her countenance suddenly nervous. "I'm not so sure you should, Kurama…"
"Why not?" I inquire, suddenly suspicious. His youki was scattered about the vicinity thickly; he was no doubt near by. Very near by.
"I'm just not so sure you'll want to see him," she replies meekly, her tone suddenly drawn. She hugs her arms around herself, as though cold, and shakes her head. "He's takenyour deatheven harder than Yuusuke, that's all."
My heart stalls. This was news. Of course, I had expected that he might be upset. Perhaps even truly saddened. But, the news that he had taken my death worse than Yuusuke… That was surprising.
"I want to see him, Botan." Part of meis curious as to the state I'd find him in, and the otherhalf of me isalmost terrified of the prospect.
"Of course," she agrees reluctantly, her eyes misted with tears again. "He's… just over there." We drift slowly over to where she points—the Sakura tree in the front yard—on her oar. I fidget in anticipation, trying to find comfortable seating on my small amount of allotted space behind her.
As we draw nearer, she urges the oar gently upwards, guiding us to the upper canopy of the tree. In the week since my departure, the blooms had filled-out, and had brought the tree back to life magnificently with their lush and brilliantly roan-tinted blossoming flowers.
And there, on one of the larger upper branches, is Hiei. He's resting stoically, his back against the trunk, his form rigid and unsettled. Yet, his unchanged demeanor draws my attention little, as I find myself gazing morosely at the large crimson spatter adorning his un-clothed chest. As well, his hands, curled protectively around the sheath of his blade and himself, are torn, the raw flesh bleeding steadily, tracing ominous paths down his forearms. The exposed portion of trunk behind him bares traces of his dried blood, and harbors painfully deep scars where his blade had, no doubt, carved out his anguish.
"He's always had a violent temper…" I begin evenly, shaking my head, unwilling to take in what I saw.
"That's not the worst of it, Kurama," Botan shakes her head sadly, fishing through the long trail of her Kimono sleeves. After a moment, she withdraws a small, ornately folded piece of paper, bearing the official wax seal of Reikai.
I stare at the paper as she attempts to hand it to me. Having seen one so often myself, I know well what it is, and I can't believe it. Yet, here it is, plain as day.
An arrest warrant.
"He… didn't, did he?" I ask, my throat constricting, causing my words to come out coarsely. I take the paper and unfurl it, scanning the length of the official parchment myself, eyes wide.
Botan nods slowly, her voice cracking as she answers. "He went after two humans, Kurama. One of them, the Doctor assigned to you in the hospital… The other, a random civilian."
I bite my lip, sparing a sad glance towards Hiei. How could you do this Hiei? You've ruined your own chances, you fool! I seethe quietly until Botan's words pull me back to the present reality.
"One of them, I believe your Doctor, the one who managed to wound Hiei, died after a thirty hour period in critical condition from massive flesh wounds and internal bleeding… The other got away with minor lacerations. Probably because the attack occurred in broad daylight amid a street full of bystanders."
"When will he be arrested?" I ask, my voice coming out sounding impossibly hollow.
"Lord Koenma wanted to wait until you spoke to him, Kurama. After tonight, he's to be returned to Reikai prison until his trail…"
"Does he know?" I motion numbly towards Hiei's sleeping figure.
"He's accepted what he's done. He knows the penalty," Botan nods sadly.
His penalty… Killing two humans… Death…
"You fool," I hiss, turning sharply in his direction, my senses on fire, heart racing. "How could you do something like this, Hiei!" I snap, my veins searing as though venom were being pumped through my body. "How could you be so utterly foolish?"
I take a steadying breath, shaking as I exhale. "How?" I repeat numbly, turning to face him head-on. "My death was no reason to do this to yourself, Hiei. It didn't give you the right! You had so much going for you, you impossible fool! Koenma had you pardoned; in a few more months you would have been free to leave Tokyo! Free to leave Ningenkai forever! Now you've condemned yourself. You bloody fool..."
"Kurama," Botan interrupts quietly, "Maybe this wasn't the best idea? Maybe we should go?"
"No," I reply flatly, my eyes never once leaving Hiei's curled-in form. "Not until I've had my say."
Hesitantly, she backs away. "I understand."
"Hiei, mypassing wasn't an incentive for you to disappear from everyone's lives. I wasn't your only friend, you know… You'd have realized that Yuusuke and Kuwabarawere yourfriends if you'd ever have given them half-a-chance. And, what about Yukina?" I ask icily, sadness lancing through me for the realization that nowshe would never hear from Hiei that he was her half-brother. "What about her? You were supposed to look after her, you know. But, I guess you can't even look after yourself, can you, you grieving fool."
"Is this what you really wanted, Hiei? A meaningless death? I was dying either way, you know. It's no one's fault but my own, and your death atop it isn't going to make it any more right!"
I stop, taking a deep, steadying breath of the cool night air, reveling in the feeling as it sears my lungs. "I can't say I condone what you did, Hiei, any more than I know you can condone what I myself did… But, you really, really shouldn't have, my friend. What good is another death going to do anyone?"
I run a tired hand over my face, ruffling my hair slightly as I go on. "Lord knows Koenma's had enough of this… First me, now you? As arrogant as the Toddler is, Hiei, not even he deserves having to ship off two of his own acquaintances. And—" I let out a heated breath, "what good is it going to do you? Or anyone, for that matter?"
I take in the large, blood-adorned wound on his chest with glazed eyes. "Was your life really so unimportant to you, Hiei?" My voice cracks, and I stop, my gaze lingering on the pained expression etched upon Hiei's face.
"Kurama?" Botan asks soothingly, her voice gentle. "Are you sure you don't want to go?"
I nod deliberately. "Yes, Botan. There's just… one more thing… that I need to do. Then, I'll be ready."
She falls silent, and I take this to mean that she wasn't arguing my choice to remain for a moment longer. I glance dryly at Hiei, my throat burning.
I draw myself nearer to him slowly, my voice measured. "Hiei, only now… now that I have, quite literally, nothing left to lose, can I bring myself to say this… Whether you feel it or not, Hiei, I have no reason to hide it from you in death..."
Slowly, I raise a hand, placing it gently against his cheek. Tracing it along his smooth jaw line, I rest my fingers beneath his chin and tilt his head upwards. "There's actually more I trust myself to do in death than life, Hiei…"
I bring my head down to meet his soft lips in a longing kiss.
"It's the first time I've dared do it, Hiei… and it's the last opportunity I shall have as Kurama… Thank you…" My voice drops an octave as I pull away from him, into a slow retreat to Botan's side. "And, don't let this ordeal keep you from shining… Firefly."
"Are you ready?" Botan asks as I sit myself upon the oar, once more, behind her.
"Yes," I whisper thickly, my voice cracking from emotion. "Good bye…"
It's finally over.
---
Author's Ramblings: So, here you have it. The sequel to A Glass Rose, and a proper bit of Closure for the storyline. I guess.
So, how'd I do? Honestly, now. Personally, I'm a bit displeased myself, but only a bit. I think I successfully managed to throw each and every one of them out-of-character. Don't you?
I don't rightfully know, so your feedback would beof great help. And, maybe it's just me, but if you didn't catch it from the reading (in which case I suggest you go to re-read it), since I have Hiei dying as well, it feels as though I've left another opening for a part 3. For our dear demons in the afterlife. I don't know. Again. Whadda you think?
Any and all comments are welcome. Constructive Criticism, Praise, Critiques, Flames (will be used to make s'mores) and anything your heart desires, so long as it's the truth and your HONEST opinion. Leave 'em at the door, ne?
Blackrose