Destin Enchaîné
Me: Yes, this is a new story. TAKE MY WARNINGS FIRST. This is only the first chapter. It's been sitting without purpose for a while, so that's the only purpose it's being posted for. I won't update until I'm done with my other story. So don't badger me to update. Other than that, this story is going to be a lot different than what I am used to writing. The style may differ from what I'm used to. Also, this story is MEANT to be a lot more sensual that the rest. It's not just a romance or falling in love. This is going to have a lot more mature content in it, but I may not go as far as a lemon. I just want a very sensual feeling to it. Instead of taking place in Japan, it will in turn take place in a nameless city in France. Ignore any Japanese names you see. For anyone who wonders, destin enchaîné means chained destiny.
WARNINGS (READ FIRST): YAOI, So do not freak yourself out about it. It will be graphic at times, and it will also contain blood, gore, masochism, sadism, ect. If it bothers you, don't read it. I'm not responsible for any mental conditions you're diagnosed with after reading this, either.
READ AND REVIEW, PLEASE!
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Chapter 1
It was a bleak setting. No air past in the non-existent atmosphere. The air in fact, was stale and suffocating. The only thing noticeable other than that, was the frigid cold that cut through it like a knife would. As a result, everything was dead. Any trees left standing were bare and scraggly, bark peeling from the very intensity of the arctic weather. Snow lay on the ground, but not powdery or peaceful. It made the earth look even more dead than it already was. Patches under trees where snow had failed to reach only added to it. The grass wasn't just dead, but brown and ugly as well. Patches of dirt could be seen among this last remnant of plant.
A deep piercing scream interrupted midnight stillness, disturbing once peaceful tranquility. As if to reply, a strident gust of air blaster through the trees causing screeches to erupt from gaps in the tree branches. Under a particularly scraggly tree sat a boy, perched carefully on his haunches. As he moved his pale hand up to his hair, pain tore all the way from his temples all the way up to a spot near his ear. After lowering his hand to gaze at what lay within his grasp, his eyes widened in disbelief.
A thick chunk of hair lay within the palm of his hands. The strands were a charcoal black, accented by spots of blood that dotted his hand. Quickly, he turned back to his original intent. Gazing back at him from a pool of more crimson substance, he stared with trepidation. Looking back at him was a fully detailed reflection, colors easily distinguished on the liquid's glassy surface. A black mane identical to the strands he had pulled out made his chalky while pallor of his skin stick out more than ever. What really attracted his attention were dull grey eyes gazing back at him, shining dissonantly in the moonlight while still seeming to be able to remain close to the epitome of lifelessness.
His eyes were wide as saucers in disbelief. He put his hands up to his temples and massaged them roughly while trying to clear his thoughts. The silence was so frightening that he almost screamed out again simply to break it. His gaze quivered, jumping between emotions. Tears threatened escape, the only reminder of a shattered soul, broken into pieces by the sight of his deathly appearance. Fear engulfing him, the young man wondered if he was dead. He was not this person. He was beautiful. What lay here was only the fractured remains of a broken soul, hurt by something more violent than Satan himself. Such vanity would get him nowhere, but he didn't care.
As another cry pushed itself from his throat, he pondered upon the odd reflection, unsure of what it meant. Surely, it could not be himself. His eyes were certainly not grey! Trying to gather his thoughts together, he nearly fell forward, only managing barely to steady himself. With a light twinge of apprehension, he reached forward to touch the glassy surface. For a second, the fingertips paused over it, as if he expected it to be acid. He vividly winced before dipping down quickly to touch it. He watched with profound curiosity as his reflection distorted, most visible was a pale hand, his own. He watched quietly as once again, he removed his fingertips then brought them back down again. A sudden feeling of foreboding, making him cringe, stopped his actions. The silent pause, a lapse from life itself truly drew a gasp out of him. He felt frightened, one feeling that he wasn't generally exposed to.
As he turned his gaze warily he heard a soft growl. Within no more than a moment later, he found a black blur crossing his view. Anxiety growing, he wheeled around to find a small fox standing no more than a few meters away from him. Its pelt was the deepest shade of black while its eyes glowed the darkest shade of crimson possible. Before he was even able to brace himself, the creature launched itself at him, a maddening growl rumbling from its throat.
Even before he could think, the fox had thrown itself upon his chest, knocking the breath out of him and in the process, sending him backwards into the crimson substance with a splash. Under the fox's weight, he found himself pinned painfully. The canine had latched its teeth firmly onto his neck while he tried to struggle. However how much force he used, his body wouldn't move. He felt suffocated, restricted. With a quick glance down, melting away from reality, he found himself restricted by strong chains. Sudden panic arose through him as the fox bit down harder, tearing off a chunk of flesh hungrily. One last scream tore from him before blackness engulfed him, only one last image of the fox looking at him, blood dripping down its muzzle.
And then, he was falling. There was nothing more frightening than that. Numerous cries for help echoed throughout empty darkness. Nobody answered. His eyes weren't doing their job, seeing as the only thing he could see was the clear imprint of the dark backs to his eyelids. Tears falling haplessly from his eyes burned his face like acid. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. There wasn't even anybody there to offer him a comforting place to fall to endless rest.
His eyes snapped open, jarred quickly to attention by the strong sensation resembling that of being thrown across a room. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, each breath coming as a ragged gasp. Almost by instinct, his hand flew up to his neck, running up and down the expanse of flesh as if searching for something. His frantic touch slowed as he merely continued to graze his fingertips lightly over his smooth flesh. It took him a few seconds for him to recognize his surroundings. He lay on a makeshift bed, its covers worn from age. The mattress was slightly squashy and insecure. However, this was what he was used to.
A small strip of light fell onto his bed, coming obviously from the open door that led to a narrow hallway. This meant someone was up. Knowing the sleeping habits of those he lived with, he estimated it to be quite late. His eyelids already drooped with fatigue brought on by the abrupt halt in his sleeping pattern. A faint silhouette blocked out all light for one second in turn making him jump out of his skin. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck prick for a moment, adrenaline combined from the dream and now the sudden shock racing through his veins. Its effect froze him for a moment as a familiar figure entered. One second after that, the boy felt relief flood his veins. He allowed his breathing to slow while gently acknowledging the presence that came before him.
"Hiei" he whispered softly, deathly tone echoing off the walls. Nervousness abated, he turned to get a better look at the man. His hair was as usual, a gravity defying style colored raven black. The only thing to counteract it was a white starburst in the front. A pair of stylish black sunglasses, as always, concealed his eyes.
"You're an idiot. What the hell's eating at you tonight, Kurama?" the question held more concern than anything, despite the tone. So as to collect his thoughts, he quickly rubbed his temples while searching for whatever sanity the nightmare had torn away. Though his body throbbed and ached, it still felt to be in one piece. As he shivered, he twirled a few strands of healthy hair around his fingers; he was relieved only to see that they weren't black, but their regular shade of beautiful crimson.
"It was simply an odd dream, nothing else. Don't worry about it; I've already forgotten what it was about. May I ask why you're around at this time?" he glanced at the clock resting upon his nightstand. It read an hour completely ungodly, even for one such as Hiei. He had lied about the first part. He was still pondering upon the meaning of the dream. It didn't seem to make any sense. Questions were still running through his head, but he forced them back quickly.
"Don't flatter yourself so much. I'm not worried. I've an important thing for you to do for me. Seeing as you're already awake, I'm sure you wouldn't mind doing it for me. You're the only one suited for the job, and it's been held off much too long already." Hiei informed in a cool voice. Kurama always wondered how he could hold so much authority and command in his voice and still not have to force people to do things. Hiei seemed to be a natural born leader. Kurama simply nodded and encouraged him to go on. He was curious as to what might be so important.
"Well, you know who Karasu is, correct? He leads that gang that rivals us for a place here. I need you to deliver a message to him for me. You're the only one I can trust not to start a riot." Kurama rubbed fatigue out of his eyes. Still, he wondered what Hiei was doing here in the middle of the night. However much he wanted to simply go back to sleep, he couldn't.
About a year ago, he'd been forced away from his home due to an unfortunate chain of events. Being only a teen in high school, the only jobs he'd be able to get weren't good enough to provide enough for him. He'd resorted to living on the streets eating nothing but the cheapest food without a home to go to. It was hard to find work without the assurance that he had a home. Many people nowadays would only take you if it could be proven that you wouldn't simply run out on them. When work had finally ran out, he became thin, rarely withdrawing from his small territory he'd established in the very back of an alleyway. Hiei had changed that. He'd promised that so long as he did whatever work there was that he'd provide room and board free of charge to him. As odd as it may have seemed to him at the time, Hiei was leader of a very organized and infamous gang. They had status and arrangement near that of the mafia.
Yes, he was certainly grateful for that. He would've either starved to death or become a common prostitute had Hiei not picked him up. So, he quickly nodded in agreement to Hiei's request. "Fine, then. It shouldn't be that hard for you to find where he's located; I have the address on the back of the envelope for you. When you get there all you need to do is ask to see Karasu. They shouldn't ask too many questions, and it'll be safe. They wouldn't harm somebody coming to see their leader. Take the envelope to him and simply deliver it to him. Also, it would be nice if you apologize for me for the delay." Kurama nodded and took the envelope that Hiei offered him. Without their farewells, Kurama walked out the door.
After a while, Hiei sighed. He walked out to watch Kurama walk southward until he was out of his sights. Quietly, he lowered his sunglasses a little to get a better look. Kurama was smiling as he walked down a sidewalk, looking up at the sky, which was still dark from such late hours. He pondered upon it quietly, contemplating how life had been taking care of Kurama over the last year. The seventeen-year-old was oddly mature and low maintenance so he was glad for that. He didn't have patience when it came to dealing with kids.
Kurama walked casually along the sidewalk, smiling up at the sky. To be frank, he was very glad that Hiei had let him go for a few hours. He'd walk for a while after delivering this message to Karasu. He was really glad that although he had to do whatever Hiei wanted him to do, that he had a good deal of freedom. He'd expected that the way Hiei'd been acting as of late that he'd at least be a little bit more… protective of him. He didn't know Hiei to be protective, as it didn't coincide with his personality. Never in the two year's he'd been with Hiei had he seen him the slightest bit concerned over anyone. Now, it wasn't as if he thought that Hiei cared for him. Hiei only provided for him, but he was still oddly stricter then he should've been.
He searched the descending addresses for the one that matched the one that Hiei had given to him. As Hiei had said, it was relatively simple. The real message had been 'Go take this to Karasu and then you're free to do whatever for a few hours.' He smiled as he found the address. After knocking on the door politely, he was greeted by a gruff man. "What do you want?" he asked in a disgruntled voice. He only smiled and bid the man good morning in his regular polite voice. "I wish to see Mr. Karasu. Is there any chance you can introduce me to him?"
"Who sent you?" he asked suspiciously. Kurama was able to understand why he was acting so closed off. As he didn't find any harm in telling the truth, he didn't choose to make up a story. "Hiei has a message for him. It isn't anything bad, but he wishes for me to give it to him.
"Fine," he replied before wielding a sharp pocketknife and steering him inside. "I'm telling you, though, if you turn out to be lying, I'll enjoy making you death one of the most painful anyone's ever heard of." Kurama nodded and forced himself not to look at the blade. Being steered off, he was led down a few twisted corridors and into a room.
As they went into a room, the man spoke. "Karasu, he wished to see you. If he bothers you, let me know. I'll take care of him for you. He says that he has a message from Hiei, though." When the door shut behind him, he only expected a cold remark. Tales woven of Karasu's unkindness in general were popular among Hiei's men. Kurama waited at the door until Karasu spoke.
"Come here, I don't bite. I am curious as to what Hiei wants me to know, though." Apprehensively, he approached Karasu. There seemed to be some malevolent force surrounding him. However, the warmth of the tone was inescapable. It was a tone that Hiei seriously lacked. He handed Karasu the note without question and then stepped back. This behavior had all been acquired from living with Hiei. He knew very well Hiei didn't like kids, especially when they were disrespectful. He didn't want to get on anyone's bad side and end up on the street again. People weren't kind towards the homeless in this city.
He studied the man suspiciously for a moment. The color of his hair was the exact same shade of charcoal black that his had been in his most recent nightmare. He also noted the rest of the man's features in a careful, observant manner. He was clad in black attire similar to that of which Hiei wore. However, the rival was also a good deal taller than Hiei without the odd gravity defying hairstyle. Glasses were perched near his eyes as he read a book casually. After a minute of Karasu reading, he looked up at Kurama again.
"So, what's your name?" he asked softly, coaxing Kurama to come closer. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, but Kurama's better instinct warned him against it. It was so hard to resist. He hadn't heard anyone use such a tone towards him for a really long time. It seemed like an eternity. Now that he was so used to cold tones, he couldn't trust the kinder ones. The kindness seemed like it was being forced. After all, Karasu was very intimidating, maybe even more so than Hiei. Slowly, tentatively, he treaded closed, keeping his gaze even with Karasu's. It wasn't that he was frightened, but he was being careful. Hiei wouldn't be pleased with him if he got hurt or captured. He felt a set of hands reach out and pull him the rest of the way. His feet dragged against the floor, but he didn't resist much. He tensed as Karasu evened their views with one another once again and took his chin in his hand. "Now, your name can't be that bad. Tell me, it's not like I'm going to hurt you for it." Within a minute, Kurama swallowed and looked Karasu right in the eyes. He seemed sincere enough…
"It's Kurama." He replied, quietly. He watched without interest as a smirk grew on Karasu's face. To be frank, although he sensed danger, he was really just playing towards it with anticipation. The violet eyes watched his own with mild interest, allowing Kurama time to figure out what his impression of him was. A tense silence passed between them, more so on Kurama's part. Karasu simply stood there holding his wrists in an almost bruising manor. The redhead was able to tell that Karasu was waiting for him to speak, something important too. It made him want to move away, making it seem like Karasu's intentions were growing at his own thoughts.
For the fist time in his life, he found himself fumbling over words, worried that what he said wouldn't be what was supposed to be said. Karasu's ominous aura hovering in the air kept him paralyzed and mesmerized at the same time. It was so odd… how he seemed to be able to convey direct orders without words at all. As a few moments passed, his eyes were narrowed into slits. Not even Hiei was allowed to hold this much power over him. Briefly, he jerked his wrists back against his better instinct. Immediately his mind screamed to him in anger, emphasizing only one word, 'mistake'. He almost laughed bitterly from it, simply because Karasu hadn't reacted to his sudden choice of action.
"I'm sorry, but I really must go. I've got a job I need to do." Basically, this was an all-out lie. He simply wanted to get away from Karasu. He had a feeling something bad was going to happen soon. While he waited for the words signaling Karasu bidding Kurama farewell, he glanced down at his wrist. Already, dark bruises had formed in place of the crushing grip. Karasu looked with interest, almost missing the short-lived glint of curiosity flickering through the young boy's gaze at the sight of the injury.
"Really? I'd think you'd enjoy staying with me a few minutes more. Won't you, Kurama?" was his reply only seconds later. He grabbed the shocked redhead back him, imprisoning him with his strong hold. When the boy began to pull away, he encircled to redhead's left wrist in a tighter grip, experimenting a theory that had just formed in his head. Flustered, the kid fell still within his grip, an unmistakable gasp passing his lips. It did not prove his theory, though. The basic question was: how? He was much too young and innocent. He planted a hand on the side of Kurama's face and forced their gazes to meet again. He removed his hand from the wrist and dragged his nails roughly up across the expanse of the skin on the arm. While doing this, he kept his eyes fixed solely on the captive's gaze, noting the nature of the expression and other inclinations that might be hinted there as well.
It was almost amusing, watching how the face faltered, Kurama fighting for control over his own expression. Emerald orbs were twice as wide as normal and he began to tremble in his captor's hold. He watched again with sinister fascination as he increased the pressure, drawing blood from the pale skin. There was no control in the moan that escaped his lips. A sharp gasp came to follow next.
Reluctant as he was to stop, Karasu withdrew the hand on Kurama's arm. So, he had proven that he was right. This boy was indeed a masochist, no doubts included. It was one that seemed to be composed entirely of uncontrolled pleasure. Wherever Kurama had picked up that way of thinking was well beyond him. However, it was something that he most likely kept as a well-guarded secret. Otherwise, he would most likely not have a job working for Hiei. This was indeed a rare prize he had been given, and the innocence magnified the satisfaction of knowing it was he who had received this gift multiply tenfold. To think it was Hiei who was the one who brought this upon the redhead. It almost made him rethink the idea of rivalry with the gang leader.
With a quick shift in movements, he had pinned the redhead against a wall and had pressed his lips against the softer set harshly. He could feel the sharp intake of breath, and he could feel incessant trembling under his bruising hold. The redhead was finally allowing his urging senses to win him over. He allowed his arms to claw back into the taller one's hair, coaxing him to grip harder; anything so long as in brought forth more pain. There was absolutely no way to hold back the moan that escaped his lips in turn. He never thought his senses could be driven off course so wildly by such a thing as simple pain. Without protesting at all, he allowed Karasu to ravage him as he saw fit.
Such things were all a blur to him. All he was able to keep aware of was the pain, which was being inflicted upon him. Yet it didn't bother him. He knew that it should, that he should be screaming out, maybe even sobbing from it. Despite what he knew, no such thing happened. It all seemed oddly exquisite to him. He kept telling himself that it wasn't natural, but everything was counteracting it. Blood trailing down his arm made him shiver. At one moment, a cool, pale hand came to smear it across his skin. The trail led upward onto his shirt, then onto his neck. He was only vaguely aware of bony fingers leaving trails of blood in their path as they traced the smooth contours of his cheekbones. Another moan pressed at the back of his throat, he was slammed into a wall again, without any gentle actions to counteract it. Karasu's mouth, at one point or another, caught a few cries that escaped past his lips as well.
Though there was a voice at the back of his head telling him to shove Karasu away and gain back his pride, the masochistic instinct coursed through him fully, stimulating him to search for pain in this. It was unbelievable, yet tempting that he wanted Karasu to inflict such pain. He'd never felt like it before. Briefly, he wondered if everyone was like this. The knowledge of what exactly he was feeling was all too tempting for him not to search for an answer to it. At that point, Karasu released him and allowed the boy to collapse to the floor, an unbidden groan of protest escaping him against his better wishes. Karasu knelt down and stroked his unmarred face in an almost tender fashion.
"You'll come to see me again soon, won't you Kurama?" he asked softly, his general cold tone settling back in. Though it was far different than the type of tone that had drawn him near Karasu in the first place, he not only didn't notice it, but it was also most likely wouldn't have cared even if he had. Without hesitation, he nodded his head curtly, still unable to speak. Another devious smirk set in again as he guided his new companion towards the door without words. He pushed Kurama out quickly and smirked yet again. This seemed to be the right answer, for Karasu smirked. As a reward, he felt a gentle stroke tickling the spot near the underside of his left wrist. Long fingers remained dangerously close to the artery. This made him shiver out of pure pleasure. He could only feel the sensation of his skin being broken as a light tingle. His eyes were hazy with grogginess and pleasure.
"Well then, I'll be seeing you around. You should probably get back to Hiei. After all, you wouldn't want him to… worry." With another slight nudge, he had Kurama down the twisting hallway again and back by the front door. Kurama cringed with distaste at the musty smell that lingered here. It reminded him of rotting fish or something of the sort that was decaying. Without much choice, he was drawn into a demanding kiss with Karasu.
After considering the fact that they were practically making out within the first hour they met, he almost pulled away like he had tried to before. Nothing seemed wrong with it, though. So silently, he pressed his body back against Karasu's before pulling away on the other man's cue. Karasu gave the redhead another quick shove. With that, he was out the door, still staring in bewilderment at Karasu. He felt a blush arise at the embarrassment of the situation. He knew that what he had just done had been extremely foolish. If he was very lucky, he could only hope that this wouldn't create a problem.
Broken from his trance, he turned to walk away, his hair being picked up by a light gust of wind. After walking for less than even a few seconds, he turned to look back over his shoulder at Karasu. His quiet semblance began to falter as he watched the violent gaze pierce his own. The very glance showed a passion for suffering Kurama had never known that someone was able to posses. Briefly, he shivered because of it, only to find a minute later that he was getting lost in it. It sensation almost felt like drowning. He watched curiously as the fierce gaze narrowed, trying to covey a message. No matter how hard he strained his mind to try and figure out what the man was trying to say, he failed at each attempt within seconds.
Now, without much desire for farewell, he turned to walk away for real this time. The leader said nothing as he watched him go. He was more intrigued with the slender, feminine figure. Though the teen's back was turned, he could still sense the sadistic, calculating gaze boring into him harshly. Though still caught up in what had just happened recently, he still felt unable to bear the creepy man staring as a stalker might have. He almost felt like it was some maniac's idea of a way to drive someone to the point of insanity. He broke into a run, a cold sweat trickling down his neck despite himself. With a glance at his wristwatch, his eyes widened. He couldn't believe how long it had taken him to deliver the message and get back.
In his state of panic, he tripped over a rock, skidding a few feet before coming to a complete stop. He cursed as he took a look at his arm. The one that had already been marred by Karasu was completely free of any new wounds. With a slight groan in disapproval to his clumsiness, he pushed himself. He cared nothing of the cuts that were now bleeding. If it was even more in favor of his luck, the wounds Karasu had given on the other limb had opened back up as well. He rolled his eyes and climbed the stairs to Hiei's apartment. In a situation such as this, he would have usually just gone home. He already was sure that Hiei wouldn't be pleased with the amount of time it took him to get back, not even bringing in to account the face that he had long cuts traveling across his arms. It stood out to him that he needed bandages and antiseptic. Unfortunately, he had nothing of the sort back where he lived. Unless he wished to be forced to go see a doctor next week because of infection, it would be smart to get at least some disinfectant.
Hiei glared at him dismissively as he entered and plopped down in a chair next to where the shorter one sat. He could see his gaze immediately snap to his marred skin, even if he wasn't able to see his eyes. Upon inspection, he scowled deeply and grabbed one of his arms to take a closer look. He could tell the man was holding back quite a lot of anger, simply due to the fact that his aura was radiating of fury. "What the hell happened to you arms?" he asked. The very tone made Kurama wince worse than anything else that could've happened.
"I just fell, I was being clumsy." He mentioned casually, a tone that was used to persuade someone even as doubtful as someone like Hiei. He felt a rough prod press the skin near where one long cut began. Coincidentally, it just so happened to be the arm that had been marred by Karasu. He pulled Kurama a little closer to him and gave a glare, making eye contact directly as he pulled him a little closer to further inspect the wound. The redhead felt his eyes widen. Rarely was a time that Hiei made direct eye contact. Well, he at least thought that it was direct eye contact. He really couldn't see his eyes, even when they were no more than a foot away from each other.
"No, I meant this arm," he replied, prodding roughly again to stress his point. This was surprising. Was there a chance that Hiei knew about this and was just testing him? He could've been following him this whole time, just to see if he would really obey direct orders. If that was the case, then he actually knew what had gone on between him and Karasu. He swallowed a lump in his throat and took a second to think. Though it didn't feel right to lie to Hiei, he didn't want to reveal what had happened without having to fight tooth and nail with Hiei just to be persuaded to tell the truth. It felt almost embarrassing in a way to think about Hiei knowing his secrets. Not to mention, as Karasu had brought earlier, it was most likely Hiei would kick him out if he found out that he was a masochist.
"Hiei, I told you already, I fell. Is there no such thing as scraping both arms?" Hiei still looked disbelieving as he went to the kitchen and retrieved something from the cabinet.
"Are you absolutely sure? I'm hoping that you'd at least tell me if he did something to you like that." Kurama shook his head softly and looked down as Hiei approached him again. With one rough toss, Hiei passed the roll of bandages and the bottle of antiseptic to Kurama, giving and annoyed sigh while taking one last glance over in the redhead's direction. After quickly glancing out the window he sighed and headed near his room.
"Wait! Can't we talk, Hiei?" asked Kurama. Though Hiei was never much of the talking kind, he felt like he needed to talk to him now more than ever. He had been feeling that something bad was going to happen, and it didn't help that he had to deal with it alone. He looked into Hiei's eyes while trying to decipher some emotion related somewhat to sympathy. Unsurprisingly, he found no such evidence of emotion even slightly close to it.
"Tomorrow," he said, just loud enough to be heard by the boy sitting across the room. Without much regard, he then walked into his room and slammed the door. A few seconds later, the audible click of the lock echoed through the empty room. Shuuichi took it as his cue to go watch the sunrise out the kitchen window. He gave a tired sigh and issued a yawn. He sometimes wondered how Hiei and all his gang members lived this type of life. They were nocturnal, rarely being seen in the daytime. Of course, sometimes a colleague of Hiei's would occasionally invite him out to lunch at noon or something of the sorts. In general, anyone affiliated with Hiei slept during the day and went about business at night. He supposed that it was something that he could get used to over time, but still had trouble imagining living that way. With a tired sigh and no regard to his wounds, open and still bleeding, he headed towards his designated room.
His tired mind flashed to a memory from his childhood, reminding him dimly of Karasu. It had included a strange man. He could remember holding his hand, but was unable to remember his appearance. His hand had been bleeding, and he had been crying his eyes out for a sudden absence of something long cherished. The man's hands were cold, yet they were strong enough to wipe away his tears. Traces of the man sitting him on a dumpster and licking his hands clean of blood were there, too. He could only faintly remember how the lips had gently caressed each of his fingertips before traveling to lap off the blood and dirt. It seemed magical to him that seconds later, the cuts had stopped bleeding. Promptly, the man had wrapped his hand in a handkerchief before darting off into the shadows of an alley. He silently traced the wounds Karasu had inflicted and whispered soundless words, wondering if he really would meet Karasu again.
