Disclaimer: you know how people sometimes say, "She tries so hard…"? And they always mean "…and fails"? I'm her. The one who fails.
Fall
The
game of life is hard to play
I'm
gonna lose it anyway
The
losing card I'll someday lay
So
this is all I have to say
—Mike Altman, "Suicide is Painless"
Chapter Five: Shall I
Botan sighed heavily. This was becoming a "mission," even when it wasn't. Yûsuke could easily get Kurama and Hiei on his own, once Koenma found them, and Kuwabara's appearance was a little too nostalgic for her tastes. "The good old days" had been so much…not easier, but maybe more fun.
"Come on!" Yûsuke said, jostling the oar from where he sat behind Botan.
Well, Botan pondered, some remnants of "the good old days" were less "good" than others.
"I'm going, I'm going," she said irritably, pulling up on the oar and flying out the window. Yûsuke ducked as the frame nearly whacked him over the head.
"Watch it!" he yelped. Botan smirked, even though the near-accident had been, in fact, accidental.
The flew in straight lines, for the most part, and at relatively steady speeds. Very fast speeds, but steady nonetheless, and Yûsuke was vaguely grateful for that. His lunch might be rising up in his throat, but he was sure that with any more jerks in their path, he would have lost it awhile ago.
"Where's Kuwabara's house, again?" Botan asked through the winds screaming past them. Not trusting himself to speak, Yûsuke pointed at a nearby building and made a wild gesture, something like "Land now, you crazy psychopath, and I'll tell you." Rolling her eyes with a certain melodrama, Botan swooped down, turned a violent loop-the-loop, and landed at the indicated lawn.
Yûsuke fell from the oar and retched loudly. Botan grimaced and recoiled.
Staggering to his feet a few moments later, Yûsuke panted a couple of times and shook his head. "Right," he said firmly, "what was I going to tell you?"
Botan slapped a hand to her forehead. "Where," she said thinly, "is Kuwabara's house?"
"Oh, yeah…one train stop away from mine in the opposite direction from where we're going right now."
Botan stared with some incredulity at Yûsuke as this information was processed from her ears to her brain.
"…excuse me?"
"I said, one—"
"I heard you," she interrupted tersely.
"Then why—" Yûsuke marked his speech with a jab at her chest "—did you say 'excuse me'?"
Botan batted him away with an annoyed mutter and hopped back on her oar, slapping the back of it and gesturing for him to get on. Yûsuke sensed that this would not be a particularly pleasant ride, but climbed up anyway.
"Uh…"
Botan smirked devilishly and Yûsuke's sinking feeling sunk lower.
"Hold on tight."
Hiei heard the small disruption in Kurama's breath and smiled with no trace of humor. Kurama really didn't want him to go, then. Most interesting. He would think to exploit that fact in a bitter way if he wasn't bogged down by such utter adoration for the fox.
"Therefore release me," Kurama said, his tone strained but firm, and whether he was quoting from something or speaking metaphysically, Hiei couldn't tell. "And depart on your way."
With that formal dialect, it was almost certainly a quote Hiei didn't know, he thought, or Kurama was sliding back down sanity's ladder. Not only had it been ridiculously old-fashioned wording, but it had been English, of all languages. Hiei was glad to be well versed in the tongue, but it was still strange.
"You want me gone?" Hiei asked, although he knew the answer was "no."
"Maybe I do."
A little startled, Hiei widened his eyes the barest fraction of an inch. He wasn't sure if Kurama noticed or not. He had been so sure Kurama would say he wanted Hiei to stay—but then, he must be losing his mind a little bit again. Or maybe he was just being stubborn. Hiei was certain Kurama wanted him around, absolutely certain. Kurama was just standing by his own choices, refusing to admit he might have been a little rash in his exclamation earlier. That was it, he was being inflexible.
What else could Hiei do but call the bluff?
"Well," he said stiffly, trying to hide his nervousness and not completely succeeding, "if you decide you need me after all, I'll be around. You'll just have to find me."
Kurama sniffed, out of smugness or bottled up tears, but Hiei couldn't tell the difference. "Rest assured, if things become so dire, you'll know."
"I'm sure I will."
"Oh, don't even concern yourself."
"I'm not."
"Fine."
"Good."
"Goodbye, then."
"Goodbye, indeed."
Kurama and Hiei both sensed the terse, awkward, altogether forced nature of the exchange, but neither stepped forward to do anything about it. As Hiei turned his back on the fox, he stepped forward a few times, refraining from flitting away in the hopes that Kurama would stop him at the last second.
He did no such thing.
"Farewell," Kurama called, and Hiei thought he detected the smallest hint of desperation in his voice. Shame, though, that he couldn't go back to the fox unless requested. His pride would simply not allow it. He really did want to protect Kurama—no, not protect him. Merely stand alongside him. Kurama could protect himself, Hiei berated his traitorous thoughts. He noticed that he was sitting in a tree, and hoped that he had leapt into it so quickly that Kurama thought he was long gone. He would trail his partner (were they still partners, he wondered), he was sure, but he didn't need to be broadcasting that fact to anyone.
Kurama stood staring off in the direction Hiei appeared to have gone for some time before he turned and walked away. Having nearly fallen asleep waiting, Hiei had to rouse himself considerably before following. And follow he did—twenty kilometers later, he was started to fret that Kurama had sensed him and was simply ignoring him as an act of hostility. No, he berated himself, Kurama was now distracted by finding Miru, he couldn't sense Hiei because Hiei was keeping his energy suppressed.
Right. Absolutely.
Kurama stopped to take a rest, and Hiei, having nearly leapt to another tree to keep following, had to cling wildly to the branch he had just been about to spring from so as to keep from falling to the ground. Ignoring his severely lacking dignity, Hiei pulled himself back to his perch and watched Kurama sit. The fox didn't seem to have noticed him, and unless he was suddenly being wily, he wasn't just doing a great job pretending.
Hiei let himself rock back against the tree's trunk as his thoughts wandered.
Who, what, when, where, why, how. Kurama, following, now, because he loved him, secretly. That was that, wasn't it? He was certainly following Kurama because he loved him, and it was absolutely happing right then, and he was doing it secretly, so that was all right. But his mind, in its annoying way, decided to overanalyze his answers.
Kurama. Absolutely. That was a solid truth that could not be debated.
Following. Yes, that was what he said, but really? Was he following Kurama or was he watching over him? Trying to protect him? Hanging around in case Kurama decided to go back and look for him? Hoping Kurama really did know he was being tracked and letting it slide because it was Hiei? All of the above?
Now. Another absolute truth.
Because he loved him. Eh…maybe. Or was it because he wished to be loved? Waiting for Kurama to notice him, he waited in close proximity so that Kurama could, if he so desired, turn around and fling himself at Hiei with sappy proclamations of affection and ask him to stay.
Secretly. In character, probably, but how in character was he being? His energy was masked, that was for sure, but was it masked well? Yes…but maybe not as well as it could have been. From time to time, little trickles leaked out, easily sensed by anyone with spiritual awareness as strong as, say, Kurama's.
He should have foreseen such technicalities.
Kurama was lying on his side now, staring off into the forest bordering his path with sad eyes. Hiei watched curiously as Kurama trailed an intricate but random path in the dirt with his fingernails. The line was full of sharp corners and jagged edges, and Hiei wondered why it was there. Surely Kurama couldn't be so distraught by his leaving for it to come forth in his subconscious like that. Maybe he should go back—
No. He couldn't recall his principles like that, specifically his principle of standing his ground. One couldn't survive in Makai without such principles, and he wasn't going to change his for anyone, not even Kurama. At least, not right then.
But he did love him, so much. He couldn't help thinking that he had made a mistake letting any emotion at all into his heart, but he loved being in love. Of course, if he wasn't in love at all, he wouldn't love it, which would solve the problem completely.
Was it even worth being in love if the feeling wasn't reciprocated? Would it matter how much he enjoyed feeling that way if Kurama felt differently and his emotion would never amount to anything? The resulting torment couldn't be worth the feeling, could it? Nah…torment was never worth anything.
But a soft, lilting voice…shiny yet slightly damaged hair…glittering, saddened eyes…Hiei couldn't stand to see Kurama suffer, much less suffer for him. He started to swing down from the branch when he heard Kurama begin muttering to himself. Pulling himself back up, Hiei settled down to listen.
"I don't even know anymore…" Kurama began morosely, and Hiei wondered what he had missed.
"I don't know if I'm still sane…"
Hiei thought he knew, but he didn't want to say it for fear he was wrong.
"I don't know if I know what I want…"
Hiei didn't dare to hope that Kurama even thought he wanted him.
"Being wanted became a thrill I never knew…"
So then Kurama didn't know Hiei was crazy for him?
"Shall I continue this bitter farewell?"
Bitter farewell…?
Kurama fell silent once more, and Hiei turned that last phrase over in his mind. Shall I continue this bitter farewell? One did not usually continue farewells, but made them and then ended the situation. Was this journey—nay, even Kurama's life simply a lengthy farewell? But that could only mean death. Kurama's life was a long prelude to death. Well, that was all right, everyone was in the same fix.
Shall I…
Hiei peered through the branches to watch Kurama as he continued to twirl the lines in the dirt.
Continue.
The alternative, what Kurama seemed to be considering, would be the ceasing of his life. Death.
Shall I continue this bitter farewell?
Shall I end this life?
This life…
His eyes suddenly snapping open, Hiei catapulted himself from the tree and landed right beside Kurama. Rolling him over onto his back with a forceful jerk, Hiei raised his fist to punch Kurama's face.
The fox's eyes were closed, and his breathing slow. The color drained from Hiei's face.
"You're not hurt, Kurama," he said firmly, his wide eyes badly betraying his hardened tone. "You're not hurt. Get up, this is a stupid game."
Kurama still didn't move, and Hiei grabbed his collar to pull him up into a seated position.
"Kurama," he said scathingly, "you're being an idiot. You're not an idiot, so get up and stop faking stupid injuries."
Nothing. Hiei's fright grew exponentially.
"Kurama," he said with a hint of panic. "This is the part where your eyes open and you tell me you tricked me, got that? Come on. I haven't got time for this!"
Finally, with a tiny tremor, Kurama's eyelids fluttered, but did not open. Taking it as a positive sign nonetheless, Hiei shoved him a little more and slapped his face. Looking down at his hand (what a strangely feminine action, he berated it), he shook it off and yanked Kurama's shirt from side to side, dragging his body along.
"Come on!" he shouted. "What have you done to yourself?"
More fluttering; Hiei could call it twitching now, and Kurama seemed to be trying to awaken. Odd…but good, regardless. Hiei shook him a little more until his eyes opened a tiny crack.
Kurama mouthed a word or two, and Hiei nearly throttled him.
"What was that?" he said, not completely harsh.
"What are you doing?" Kurama said in a low whisper. Hiei raised one eyebrow as he crossed the other, creating a look of pure perplexity.
"Trying to wake you, stupid," he said flatly. "What are you doing?"
Kurama gave a tinny laugh that would have sounded hollow if he'd had more of a voice. "Trying to kill me, stupid."
Put out at being called "stupid," Hiei filed that information away for later berating as he shook his head firmly. "I won't let you."
"You can't do anything," Kurama said. "The plants are already entering my bloodstream, and once—"
In a rash movement, Hiei violently turned Kurama over and saw a thin vine growing out of the back of his neck. Successfully ignoring the amount of pain he was sure to cause, Hiei yanked the vine out, roots and all, and watched Kurama's blood drip from them with morbid fascination as the fox hacked a violent cough.
"What did you do?" Kurama choked, grasping at his neck. He felt as though all the muscles and veins in his throat were being shoved against his skin and trying to break free. Hiei helped Kurama sit up again and showed him the vines, with an expression so innocent he might have been a child showing his mother a worm he found in the garden.
Kurama took the vines with shaking fingers and his eyes narrowed as the blood dripped down his wrist. "You pulled these out of me."
"Out of your neck," Hiei confirmed. "How did you get them in there without my noticing?"
Turning his head aside, Kurama made a point of not looking at Hiei. "It's not your concern."
Grasping Kurama's chin, Hiei forced his face up so as to lock their gazes. "Oh, but I think it is. In fact, I think I know how you did it, Plant Master."
"Then why bother asking?"
Hiei smiled thinly. "I want to hear you say it."
"Define 'tight,'" Yûsuke said as Botan landed her oar right in Kuwabara's front yard. "There's no way any tightness of grip could have kept me on that stick without a harness."
"Oh, come now," Botan said playfully. "You only fell off twice. And it's not a stick, it's an oar."
"Whatever."
Giggling in schoolgirl-ish manner, Botan "pocketed" her oar. Waving Yûsuke on, she walked up to Kuwabara's door as though she owned the place, her hips swinging just slightly. Rolling his eyes, Yûsuke followed and tried to pretend he wasn't associated with her.
She rapped her knuckles loudly on the door, her other hand on her hip. No one came for a minute or so, and Botan knocked again.
"Kuwabara!" she shouted. "Shizuru! Anyone home?"
Yûsuke looked up to Kuwabara's window and squinted against the sun. A figure, or at least the shadow of one, seemed to be lurking in his friend's room. Being upstairs with the window closed, and probably the door as well, Kuwabara wouldn't be able to hear anyone shouting at the front stoop, no matter how loud.
Putting a hand on Botan's shoulder to shut her up for a moment, Yûsuke focused on his energies and his aura spiked dramatically. Kuwabara's window was open in a flash, the distinctly distraught man peering out warily.
Kuwabara caught sight of the pair of them almost at once. "Hey, Urameshi! Botan! What're you two doing here?"
"Waiting to be let in, dumbass!" Yûsuke shouted back. "Is your sister home?"
Kuwabara thought for a moment before answering. "No, I don't think so! I'll be down in a sec!"
Botan was rubbing her ears when Yûsuke wandered back to the front door, her eyes tightly shut as she tried to focus on getting her hearing back to where it had been a minute ago. He suppressed a snicker just as the door opened and Kuwabara greeted them with a small wave.
"Come on in, guys. Sorry I didn't hear you knock, but my door was shut and it's so thick I can't hear all the way downstairs."
Yûsuke nodded as he slid off his shoes. "Thought so."
Kuwabara walked back into the house and waited for his guests to get their shoes off and come into the hall. He moved instinctively to the den and Botan followed right away, Yûsuke taking a little more time to look around. He hadn't been into Kuwabara's house that he could remember; it was nice and simple. Pleasantly homey.
"So, Kuwabara," Botan said cheerfully as she plopped herself down on a comfortable sofa. "How've you been?"
"Fine, until right now," he said, equally cheerful. "What're you guys up to?"
Botan smiled awkwardly and Yûsuke rolled his eyes.
"Long version or short version?" he asked flatly. Kuwabara cocked his head.
"Short version."
"We're trying to find Hiei and Kurama and we can't."
"…long version."
"Thought so."
And so Yûsuke made himself comfortable in a smallish armchair and explained everything he knew, or thought he knew, about Hiei's and Kurama's predicament, and Kuwabara listened with rapt interest and growing disapproval. By the end of the tale, his face was screwed up in a dark scowl and he looked about ready to leap from his seat and charge after them himself.
"How could they do something so stupid?" he asked rhetorically. Botan was about to answer when Yûsuke nudged her and shook his head. Kuwabara needed to get some ranting out of his system before they took him on their journey, and it was better to get it done here, before they left.
By the time Kuwabara was, in fact, finished complaining, a good five minutes had passed and Botan had become fascinated with his words. He was right, of course—the pair of them had been ridiculous and foolhardy, going off on their own, but it was most interesting to hear it all in rant-form. Botan grinned widely and twirled her fingers through the air, coming up with her oar.
"All right, then!" she cried, leaping on. "Come along, we've got quite a trip ahead of us!"
Yûsuke and Kuwabara gave her identical dull glares.
"No shit."
Botan sweatdropped.
"Therefore release me, and depart on your way": in fact, Kurama is quoting something. Whitman, in fact. I don't recall if the poem has a formal title or not, but rest assured, it exists. I could give the full text, but…that would be kinda pointless.
"Being wanted became a thrill I never knew": a line from Nightwish's "Dead Boy's Poem." Great song. You should listen to it sometime.
