Disclaimer: romance. Crazy. Not mine, but still. Whoa. I mean a real life romance, not the one in here (which is totally mine, no thieving).
Fall
we
ask forgiveness
the innocent will not be freed
we are the
sinners
the leaders of hypocrisy
we ask forgiveness
but
justice will prevail
—Suicide Commando, "we are the sinners"
Chapter Seventeen: Some Will Ask Forgiveness
"Don't."
Yûsuke looked down at Hiei, who stood several meters to his right. He said nothing, but looked curious, presumably as to the older man's utterance. Kuwabara did not look at either of them, but sat on the ground and watched Kurama, who was apparently doing nothing.
Hiei did not look at Yûsuke, though he must have known the other man was looking at him. Merely shaking his head slowly, Hiei kept his eyes on Kurama. Sooner or later, the fox would make some signal, give some sign that it was all right for them to go to him, and Hiei would be there in the same second. Until then, no one would be permitted to disturb his solitude. The fire demon grimaced.
No one.
Kurama smiled bitterly as he extended his power in infinitesimally small portions, cracking apart the hill sloping from his resting spot to the ground far below. Small stones fell down with waves and flecks of dust, the last surviving remnants of a girl he had promised to kill.
Why had he let her go free? He was not certain. He knew he had intended to kill her from the start. Whatever had stopped him from decapitating her had been a dark sort of force, a malicious one desiring suffering. Her suffering, specifically, for all she had done to him. But to let her run off, merely laden with the knowledge that she had a lot to live up to, had been surprisingly uncharacteristic of him. He had expected her to die. He knew Yûsuke, Kuwabara, and Hiei had expected her to die. Her cockiness had surely been nothing more than a vibrant show of confidence she did not feel; she knew he was her superior in every way.
Yet somehow, naming all of her childish, youthful delusions, her vague desires to continue her reigns of terror and destroy the lives of other infamous, extraordinary thieves and fighters and diplomats, he had come to realize that for her lack of experience and her nearly fatal mistake of going after such a grand target as himself, they were similar. In the way that all fighters and tricksters were similar, their motives and desires might be torn down to the same basic core:
Glory.
The only reason he did not flaunt his brilliance in the humans' world was that the prize was too small. Who cared for those private academy brats, waving about their test papers and their almost perfect scores? Who cared for essays and quizzes, who cared for grades? None of it mattered. Not really. Stealing from the demons' world, however, had given him fame and fortune he could not have acquired any other way, despite its lack of any rewards that mattered. At least, any emotional or sensual rewards, the sorts that humans counted above all else.
And Miru was like him, was she not? She was the same, but younger and more blatantly obvious. With time and experience, she might become so subtle, but until then, she was merely a more flamboyant version of himself.
Perhaps that was why he had let her run away.
But even if anyone thought to ask, it was certain that no one would ever really know.
Hiei nearly slid into Kurama as he leapt to the platform, skidding on the damp grass his friend had grown there. He did not touch Kurama, nor hold him, as he wished to, nor reach out to him, but merely stood, a barrier presence. A demand that Yûsuke and Kuwabara leave them alone, but not shutting Kurama in. He did not speak, respecting the honor of being allowed into Kurama's sanctuary.
For some time, Kurama merely stood, facing away from Hiei, dismantling Miru's escape hill pebble by pebble. Hiei was surprised to find himself not anxious to begin exchanging words, but afraid that Kurama was not, despite his own internal monologue insisting otherwise, going to be all right. He watched the steep slope diminish infinitely slowly and was certain that each small stone, each clump of dirt, represented something precious that he was not privy to. He couldn't bring himself to resent Kurama for that.
Kurama turned his body, only a few degrees, towards Hiei. He smiled, though Hiei could not see.
"Do you hate me?"
Kurama's voice was very small, and Hiei, who was not listening for it, nearly missed the soft question. He shook his head.
"Of course I don't," he said, almost as quiet. He allowed for a moment's pause, in case Kurama wished to speak again.
He did not.
"Kurama, I can't help but be—" Hiei stopped short. He did not like exposing his flaws to others, and he had never divulged a negative trait of his before. But, he thought sternly, if he wanted his proposal to have even a chance of success, he would need to be completely honest with Kurama, even if the fox was not willing to give the same in return.
"Kurama," he began again. "I can't help but be terribly selfish and want you to live as long as possible."
Kurama turned his head this time, looking almost over his shoulder at Hiei. His eyes screamed of a deep-seated sorrow and a deeper regret, but his face remained expressionless. Then he smiled and his eyes became bright, but Hiei saw only another layer of secrets being hidden, shelved somewhere in the furthest recesses of a brilliant mind the world would never understand.
"Darling, darling Hiei…"
Kurama trailed off wistfully and Hiei could not help but think that Kurama had sounded more as though he was talking at him than to him. He sensed that Kurama was not quite finished speaking, and a minute or so later, he discovered he was right.
"Hiei, why do you want me to live?"
Hiei blinked owlishly. Did he really have to say it again? No, he would not admit to the same fault twice; that couldn't be what Kurama was asking.
"Because…" Taking a deep breath, Hiei looked into Kurama's eyes with a fierceness reserved mainly for intimidating powerful opponents. "I love you, and I know you love me as well." It was a gamble, after Kurama's comment to Miru, but it was one Hiei was willing to take. Or if it wasn't, which, he reflected, it might not have been, it was one he had taken on instinct, which was usually a good way to go. "I don't want to lose you."
Suddenly, fiercely, unexpectedly, Kurama grabbed Hiei in a desperate hug, pressing his face into the smaller man's shoulder. Hiei paused a moment, startled at the contact, and hugged Kurama in return. He was not quite sure what to make of the situation, but it seemed to be heading in the right direction.
"Oh," Kurama said then, sounding quite choked, "Hiei, my dear…"
Hiei felt a damp spot on his skin and realized Kurama had started crying. He tightened his hold as much as he could manage.
"My sweet, kind Hiei…"
Even as he heard the words, Hiei was not sure Kurama had spoken them. "Sweet"? "Kind"? Not words he would use to describe himself, and certainly not ones he had ever imagined Kurama using to describe him. Kurama wasn't going crazy, was he? No, he couldn't be!
Kurama raised his head so that their eyes met, his tears still falling steadily. Hiei tilted his head slightly in a show of confusion, but, he realized belatedly, it almost appeared as though he was angling himself to kiss Kurama. That would explain Kurama's gentle, embarrassed laugh.
"I think we need to talk."
"Yes," Kurama replied, still with a hint of laughter in his voice despite the overlying thickness from his tears. "That's exactly what we need. All of us."
"No," Hiei corrected at once, "not all of us. You and I need to talk. You and Yûsuke, you and Kuwabara, you and whomever else you want can talk eventually, but you and I need to talk first. Now."
Kurama smiled, his eyes closed and the tears slowing. He nodded, almost resignedly, and Hiei knew the conversation would be a difficult and probably awkward one. The first problem was how to ditch Yûsuke and Kuwabara, the former of whom had excellent, technically demonic hearing.
"I'll be right back," Hiei said, placing his hands on Kurama's shoulders. "Don't go anywhere."
"Of course not," Kurama said with a surprisingly falsified attitude. "I'm not a beaten puppy, you know."
Hiei nodded uncertainly. "Of course not."
Kuwabara looked over at Yûsuke, who had become strangely subdued. He was sure that Yûsuke wanted, as he did, to go to Kurama and ask what his farewell to Miru had really meant, but neither moved to do such a thing. He looked back at the fox just in time to see him collapse on Hiei's shoulder, holding him tightly.
"We've got to do something."
Kuwabara looked over at Yûsuke again, who was looking back at him. His eyes had a fierceness so terribly intense that Kuwabara nearly didn't recognize them, although they reminded him of their shared youth. Despite the determination his friend showed, Kuwabara shook his head firmly.
"No, I don't think we do."
His eyes no longer hard but wide and startled, Yûsuke turned from his ready-to-spring position and faced Kuwabara. "What are you, crazy? Kurama just burst into tears and you want to sit back here and do nothing?"
"Not quite," Kuwabara said, turning his attention back to their two friends. "We're doing something—"
"Please, enlighten me as to what!"
"—by leaving them to themselves." Kuwabara looked at Yûsuke out of the corner of his half-lidded eye, a picture of superiority. Yûsuke sneered mockingly, a brief jest amidst the seriousness of the situation.
"That's not doing something, that's doing nothing," Yûsuke challenged stubbornly. Kuwabara sighed, exasperated.
"Trust me," he said, nodding towards the two men. "They appreciate it. We can talk to Kurama later—we can talk to Hiei later, if we want to, but now, let's leave them alone, huh?"
Yûsuke frowned. "They're having a couple moment, or something?" he asked, only half serious. Kuwabara shrugged.
"I don't know, but I think they're having the kind of conversation only they can understand. I mean, really understand. Look, it's best if we just let it lie, all right? I promise they'll like us better for it."
"We will talk to him later," Yûsuke asserted. Kuwabara nodded willingly.
"It's to be expected."
Silently, Hiei darted away, deeming his presence unnecessary.
"Shall we go?"
Kurama smiled knowingly, showing his age and wisdom even as he acted like a twenty-something year old. "Yes, let's. Yûsuke and Kuwabara will understand."
Hiei grunted. "Yûsuke?"
"Well," Kurama amended with a small laugh, "perhaps Kuwabara will."
"Mm."
Moments later, Kurama and Hiei leapt down to the base of the cliff—fleeing, in a final act of death defying, Miru had called back the ground to cover the fire spits she had brought forth for her fight with Kurama. The remains of her escape route, the cobblestone cliff, were scattered around, and Kurama reached down to touch the stones reverently. Behind him, Hiei leaned against the cliff itself and watched.
As Kurama picked up a delicate clump of dirt, it began coming apart in his hand and he grasped it, turning it back to dust. Fittingly, a soft wind began to blow over the valley, scattering the sand and stones. Kurama smiled.
"The hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time," he murmured to himself. Hiei closed his eyes and turned away, smiling slightly. Kurama looked over his shoulder.
"Do you disagree?"
Hiei shook his head. "I don't think I could hope to understand what you're talking about on my own."
"That might be a good thing," Kurama said, his smile wistful. "Would you like to understand it at all?"
Surprised, Hiei stepped away from the wall and neared Kurama a few steps, standing over him as he knelt for more stones. "Kurama," he said in all seriousness. "If I can do anything to help you, I would like to."
"Oh Hiei, you poor little boy…"
While that might have been taking things a bit far, Hiei thought, Kurama had to be thinking comparatively, which would mean silence was a potential gateway to understanding whatever thoughts were on the surface of Kurama's mind. Sure enough, a moment later, Kurama began to speak again.
"Hiei, I hope you never have to discover the things I've learned."
Hiei began to frown a bit. Was Kurama hoping for Hiei's life to end before he reached old age?
Per usual, Kurama seemed to read his thoughts. "Your life, you see, has been far too difficult already."
Wasn't that the truth.
"I hope you never come to this death wish I have reached. I hope you are able to find new things around every corner, to remain a child at heart even when life demands otherwise."
Surprisingly, Kurama breached the space between them and laced his hands at the small of Hiei's back in some kind of embrace. Hiei looked up at him, blinking childishly with wide eyes.
"Do you wish to learn more?" Kurama asked. Hiei weighed the consequences: Kurama was asking permission to continue, so clearly there was some perceived risk. Yet if he did request further information, he would see more of Kurama's thoughts and better combat his apparent death wish. Decision made, he nodded firmly, only once. Kurama smiled wearily.
"As a young fox, I lived recklessly," Kurama began as a storyteller might. "Throughout my entire life as a fox, in fact, I lived 'on the edge,' as one might say, taking risks and chances too frequently. I was an unwise child then, but all for a reason well learned: to feel like I was living. It was the only way. Stealing from highly protected vaults provided a mental challenge, but escaping alive with my treasure provided a deadly thrill. The novelty of life, I have come to understand, is in knowing I could die."
"But then, when you might have died," Hiei said suddenly, sorry to interrupt but needing clarification he wasn't sure Kurama would otherwise provide, "why did you choose to save yourself? Why did you choose to continue living in this human body of yours?"
"Ah, therein lies the rub." Kurama smiled, pulling Hiei a small bit closer. The demon took another step of his own to place himself flush against Kurama's body, resting his cheek on the fox's chest. "While I could only survive by committing suicidal acts and dodging the consequences, I did not really want to die. Young and scheming, as it were, I never thought of death as a possible end for myself. I was stunned when Kuronue, my very best friend, met his cruel end after one of our thefts; it was actually not long thereafter that I was shot. I don't know if I would have been changed, had I survived a little longer, but such things are not to be dwelt upon. Such things that can never be."
Hiei offered the smallest of unseen smiles and Kurama rested his chin on the top of his friend's head.
"Did you love him?" Hiei asked quietly. Kurama's chest vibrated with silent laughter.
"Love," Kurama said almost sarcastically, "is nothing real."
At that, Hiei's eyes went wide and he almost tried to pull away. Was Kurama now claiming that they two had spent so much time harping on an emotion that wasn't even real? Ridiculous. What sort of fantastic revelation had come to him in the last few days? Hours, even?
"Infatuation is real," Kurama continued with the cold tone of one who had known too much heartbreak and disappointment in his life. "Desire is real, a fierce want for what seems out of reach. Obtaining this thing, this prize, is fulfilling for a short while—this is why few humans find futility in love."
His eyes asking questions he did not trust himself to speak, Hiei craned his neck and looked up at Kurama, lightly draping his arms around Kurama's chest and holding his hands tighter than was necessary behind his friend's back. Kurama smiled fondly, his fingers lacing and unlacing nervously.
"A short while has become a strange thing," he said, looking at the bloody sky. Hiei looked at it, as well. "Young and stupid, I called a few dozen years a short while. I called one hundred years a short life instead of the whole lifetime it is to me now. Yet still, it is merely an instant for love. Humans are fortunate in this way—they never seem to tire of their loves, so long as they are true. But I, I am torn apart by this misfortune of love, this poor draw of infinity. Even humans are loved and in love in funny ways; so long as they still hold a shred of that nameless emotion, as they so fondly call it while they name it 'love,' they believe it has not faded. They believe they are still in love as much as they were at first, however long ago. But really, what is it?" Kurama did not smile as he looked down at Hiei, who still watched the skies. "It becomes something meager, something necessary. Separation is hard for humans who are old, and they wish to be with those they have loved for so many years until their dying day. They wish to cling to this comfort until they no longer need it, until they no longer need anything.
"But I, who have reached this pinnacle, this hundred year mark several times, have no need for the poor consolation of love. My love fades and is given so rarely that it is barely even there; I feel it even less often and for few. A life in which thrill comes with the threat of death makes no place for love. As you have, I learned to disregard it."
"Don't you dare lump me in with that," Hiei said then, having heard more than he wanted to and probably more than he should have. "I have no disregard for love, a 'meager consolation,' as you call it. I know I love you, despite your hatred. I know I love Yukina, my sister. I know I try to love my mother and sometimes succeed in doing so. How can you call love a simple comfort? You, who claim to be so wise."
Hiei finished speaking with some derision, looking at Kurama defiantly and daring him to counter the argument. His thoughts slowly being altered, Kurama let his chin drop to his chest and felt his eyes burn, though he knew he could not cry. Not over this.
"Humans fall in and out of love," Kurama said softly, mournfully. "Love fades with time; those who die in love are lucky, living so short a time that they do not see it gone."
"So you admit love is a beneficial emotion," Hiei challenged at once, speaking in pointedly technical terms. "You admit those who are in love are lucky."
Kurama bit his lip, finding the conundrum in his own words. "I suppose so," he said, "but the pain of losing love is not worth the joy of having it at all."
Keeping his hands firmly behind Kurama's back, Hiei stepped back and looked up at him, frowning and looking mildly displeased. "Yet you won't take that joy, even if it is so 'meager,' because you're afraid of being hurt? I expected better of such a man as yourself."
"It's not only that," Kurama tried to explain. "Hiei, you seem to forget: I want to die. I won't explicitly return your feelings and then leave you alone so selfishly!"
"So don't die!"
"Do you even realize what you're asking?"
STILL NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! How could it be, that sounded like a little cliffhanger to me. Little tiny.
"Kurama's comment to Miru": "You are not in love with Hiei, but jealous of the love he and I appear to share" (c. 16).
"The hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time": from "Seasons in the Sun" (song)
This chapter was heavily influenced by AoiHyou's fic "In Lieu of Fire." I suggest you all read it, it's quite good. It was also influenced slightly and in a much more historic fashion by Random Author Person's "Love Conquers Sue." I suggest you all read it (if you can get your hands on a copy), it's quite funny.
Super quickie note: I hope you noticed the ironic and actually unintentional similarities between Kurama's speech to Miru and Kurama's explanation of love to Hiei. Brief comparison:
"I was a grand prize for you once, but that prize has lost its novelty…your trophy is increasingly more worthless. You want a new reward to brag of…" (c. 16, "Living Long Enough").
"Desire is real, a fierce want for what seems out of reach. Obtaining this thing, this prize, is fulfilling for a short while—this is why few humans find futility in love" (c. 17, "Some Will Ask Forgiveness").
