In the battle of existence, Talent is the punch;

Tact is the clever footwork.

Wilson Mizner

Emergence of Talents

Hiei's POV

The fortitude of fools never ceased to amaze me.

Kuwabara's screams devolved to pointless jabbering and, finally, silence as he watched Yusuke rise and rejoin the dance, a fresh ram taking his place in the center of the circle. I lowered my arm, not daring to take my eyes from the Oni prince.

Hokushin's voice rose above the din of a fresh song, feeding the thunder's ego and coaxing lightning into rapid bursts. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to who entered the striking ground – ancient rams and some barely older than kids, each sacrificing their bodies freely to the elements. They fell one after another, idiotic smiles on their faces despite ruined flesh and blood leaking from their ears:

Testaments to a people who knew the price of power.

"W-what are they doing?"

I shifted my gaze to meet his, ignoring the persistent drops burning my face and neck.

Kuwabara swallowed, forcing his mouth shut as Yusuke gave a resounding cry and his people followed suit, praising the storm. "I mean . . . how? How can they–" His voice trailed off, for once at a loss for words.

A snort breached the air and I rolled my eyes, grimacing as the skin around the right smarted. "Don't tell me you don't know the abilities of Gandara's closest ally?"

Metal scraped metal as he shuffled, sickly shame seeping from his pores.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared, drowning out the curse bubbling in my throat. "You really are an idiot."

"Hey!" He growled, chest pressing against my shoulder blade. Even though the storm overruled most sound, Kuwabara had enough sense to keep his voice down, the whisper a husk of his normal timbre. "I'm getting really sick of your mouth, you know that?"

A lull as the Hornless reverted to their senseless crooning and I noted first his proximity, then the open disgust of those behind us, recalling the fox's plea for patience. "The Oni control the elements through a pact made with their gods long ago."

All malice fell from his face, then, brows furrowing as he asked, "Gods?"

I scoffed at the confusion held by that syllable, his blatant ignorance. "You really don't know."

"S-so what?" He hissed, anger grinding his jaw and causing both hands to ball into fists. "Just because you know something I don't, you think you're better than me? Is that it?"

Glares and muted murmurs from behind and I settled my heel on the toe of his boot, never taking my eyes from the ceremony. Kuwabara inhaled to speak again but I shifted my weight atop the thick leather, grinding until the air escaped his lungs in a rush.

When I was sure he understood to keep quiet, I released his foot, continuing as if nothing had happened. "Before Tourrin became a kingdom, the Oni clans collectively made a deal with Dagda the Good God and Lugh of the Long Arm." Kuwabara inched closer, cool metal pressing against my shoulder in a bid to hear. "Their agreement was simple – the Oni pledged fealty to both for all generations if the deities promised to protect their young and teach them to make war."

His gaze traveled back to the gruesome display, taking in the savage screams and phantom fights. "No way . . . What could they need protection from?"

"Dragons."

Another clap of thunder and the Oni leaped as one, calling to their gods. Lightning laid out three Rams at once and still they laughed, fangs glinting in the fading light.

"D–" Kuwabara sucked in a breath, fighting to restrict his voice to a whisper. "Dragons?"

I nodded, the barest tipping of the head. Kuwabara didn't ask about the timing of this arrangement but then again, he didn't need to–

Any idiot knew the dragons fled Tourrin for Gandara in the wake of the Great War.

Finally, the Hornless ceased their singing, drumbeats fading to silence. Thick raindrops continued to fall even as the Oni froze in place, heavy limbs drooping.

Yusuke returned to the blackened circle, face clean of paint and ash. Raising his eyes to the clouds, he stared as though admiring a lover, lips slipping easily into a smile–

I'd never understood his affection for something as intangible as the sky.

"Dul abhaile." He whispered, heedless of his appearance.

All at once, the lightning ceased. Insistent rain tapered into a sprinkle before finally stopping, the breeze dying along with it. The Oni bowed their heads as clouds drifted away one by one, slowly allowing specks of blue to reemerge. Finally, with one last rumble of thunder, the vessels disappeared altogether, freeing the sun from her prison.

A collective sigh from the Gandarans as Yusuke breathed in the wet air, hands planted on either hip. Hokushin and his rams watched in silent submission, ready to begin the process again if their lord chose; water dripping from slick scalps and black robes, their staves remained poised, eager to make war or petition the skies at any moment. Such was their duty: the chosen ones, royal protectors and entreaters of the gods–

Such were the Hornless.

Finally, the Oni prince rolled his shoulders, neck popping as he turned to his people. "All right, you guys know what happens next: all who were struck, with me; the rest of you, go take a load off in the stands." An uproar from those not sporting blackened skin, horned heads thrashing, lips curling to reveal menacing fangs.

"Oi! You wanna question Lugh's judgment, or worse, Dagda's?" Yusuke's eyes darkened, nose wrinkling as though he'd inhaled a waste-tinted breath. When the outraged cries quieted to jilted murmurs, he smiled, tugging the horn of the nearest unsatisfied Oni – a ram just old enough to make war. "Hey, relax!" He exclaimed, throwing an arm over the boy's shoulders. "We'll beat the Gandarans at their own game, just you wait! Besides," A smirk pulled at his lips, eyes shining. "Someone has to be here to haul my bruised bahookie home."

The ram in question grinned and the rest erupted, laughter shaking the grass beneath our feet. One by one, the unchosen Oni retreated, tugging Yusuke's horns, hair or pinching his clothes as they went.

"H–" The syllable left Kuwabara's mouth in a whisper, breath hot in my ear. "How does he do that?" Another quaking intake and he leaned closer, assuring none other than I could hear. "How does he always know how to satisfy them?"

I didn't bother with an answer, gaze shifting to the Gandaran side of the arena. Just below the royal stands, Karasu continued to watch Yusuke alongside his mistress, the kama a second set of wings hugging both forearms. Every so often, his eyes shifted to spy Kurama, taking in his interactions with Lady Shizuru. The fox was aware of his attentions – both hands lingered at his sleeves as well as his hair, where plaintive seeds waited – yet he never ceased his attentions toward the human woman–

He was a fool for blatantly displaying his treasure.

"All right, time to get this show on the road!" Yusuke shouted, calling everyone's attention. An assortment of twigs now rested in both fists, the wood an obscure blue not found in Gandara. "Not sure how you do this here, Uncle, but in Tourrin we set up tournaments by drawing lots."

King Yomi smiled despite the murmurs among other Gandarans, each eyeing Yusuke suspiciously.

"Here's how it goes: there's thirty one Oni here, so that means you guys have to choose thirty warriors to face them. Then, we'll each pull a stick – Gandarans on the left, Oni on the right." He shook the respective fists, glancing between the two people. "There's a number on the bottom of each lot; whoever draws your number is the one you'll fight."

"Wait a minute!" All eyes turned to Kuwabara, who now stood a respectable distance away, sun reflecting off his chest plate. "If there's thirty one of your guys, shouldn't we pick the same amount? Why would you want an uneven number?"

I bit back a groan at his outburst, resisting the urge to kick his shin.

A slender smirk lit Yusuke's face. "Because one warrior won't fight until the end."

Kuwabara blinked, mouth snapping shut. "What?"

"We decide tournaments winners through elimination: the winner of one round moves on to fight the winner of the next, one fighter remains from the bunch. But real war doesn't work that way; the enemy always saves the best guy for last." The Oni prince grinned, crossing his arms. "That's why one lot's shorter than the rest – whoever draws it gets to enter the last round fresh, to act as the enemy's secret weapon. Your opponent in war isn't going to play fair; why should a tournament be any different?"

"But that's–!"

"Don't worry, this isn't actually a war. We won't kill you." Here Yusuke thought a moment, lips curling once more. "At least, not on purpose."

Kurama's POV

"I can't believe it."

The airy statement left her mouth slowly, trailing away like so much smoke. However, I dared not take my eyes from the arena, not until the winner was announced.

Mid-afternoon sunlight lit the orchard, showcasing the combatants as one fell with a resounding rumble. Kuwabara stood alone in the clearing, hair sticking to a face smeared with sweat and dirt. Sides heaving, he maintained his stance despite his opponent's state, sword tip wavering alongside trembling arms. Several dents now crowned his grandfather's armor and blood leaked through the greaves at both calf and elbow, yet even though at least one rib was broken, the fire in his eyes never wavered. Red coated the sides of the blade, perpetrator of the wounds lining the Oni's arms and abdomen. The ram's club remained clutched in his hand, the head broken off on Kuwabara's chest at the beginning of the match. Despite his comrade's commands to rise, however, the ebony-haired youth did not stir, yet his breaths remained even.

Finally, Hokushin stepped forward and shouted above the din. "Kazuma Kuwabara is the winner!"

Reserved applause from the Gandaran stands as well as a few yells from the Tourrites heralded Kuwabara's victory. For the most part, however, the crowd simply stared at the victor, this human who should not have made it past his first match–

Hiei must have been proud.

"So, what happens now?"

I turned to see Shizuru brandishing her pipe, fishing the snuff bag from a sleeve with practiced ease. She lit and filled the bowl in no time, blowing slender sprays of smoke from both nostrils. She felt no need to ask father's permission for such a thing, nor if he would care for a smoke himself. Such niceties were long behind them.

Father appeared content with giving us an air of privacy, his attention focused on Yusuke and two rams carrying their fallen comrade from the arena. "A brief recess, then the semifinal matches will commence."

Her brows furrowed and she inhaled before offering the pipe to me, green vapors spilling from her lips. "Then, baby bro's opponent will be–"

"Prince Yusuke, yes." I nodded, sucking bitter smoke from the mouthpiece inches from her fingertips. Shizuru smiled as she returned the pipe to her lips, watching my hand motion to the other side of the clearing. "And the match afterwards will put Hiei against Karasu."

"Karasu . . ."

I followed her line of sight to the man in question. Karasu watched Kuwabara stumble back to Hiei, slender hands curled at his thighs with unsettling readiness. With grace foreign even to Gandarans, he'd fought his way to the semifinals with those hands alone, winning each match in under a minute with no injuries.

The kama lay at Rui's feet, spotless and gleaming like freshly polished stones. Karasu placed them there before his first match, head bowed as he crossed the handles reverently. I could not forget his euphoria at Rui's touch, black strands weaving between her fingers as she touched his hair, her lips moving softly against his ear. Whatever she said stirred the stagnant pools of his eyes, allowing emotions I could not name to peek from violet depths:

Coincidentally, his attention remained fixed on Hiei from then on.

"I don't like him."

Shizuru's voice pierced through my musings and I started. As a noblewoman, Shizuru always hid her emotions well, never stating her opinion unless requested to do so. Mouth twisted in an unladylike fashion, she watched Karasu watch her people with pronounced distaste, pipe forgotten on the chair arm.

However, the voice answering her caught us both off-guard.

"And why is that, Lady Shizuru?" Father maintained his lax stance as he offered us a courtesy glance, scarred eyelids creasing in-time with his smile.

Shizuru sucked in a quick breath, lowering her gaze. "Forgive me, my King. I spoke out of turn–"

"No, no, you spoke correctly – a Kazuma's intuition is rarely wrong."

She swallowed and spiced embarrassment gave way to lemon-tinted curiosity, swirling scents seeping from her pores. "My lord?"

"Long ago, before Gandara became a unified kingdom, the Kazuma clan were renowned for their second sight." I offered, watching Kuwabara's procession from the corner of my eye. "They were misunderstood by many in those days, often spurned as witches or workers of evil. However, my great-grandfather revered them as seers, so they helped him unite Gandara and become our first King."

"Very good, son." Father hummed, tracing the grains of wood with one finger. "The Kazumas also believed their women retained the strongest second sight due to their connection with the Earth and the giving God." He shifted and the wood moaned, arching beneath his hand. "However, many have abandoned the old ways."

Shizuru licked her lips, hands strangling one another in her lap. I feared her heart would burst from her chest at any moment. "Do you believe such things, Lord Yomi?"

Father smiled again, mouth pulling at tanned skin. "If I did not believe it, we would not be having this conversation, would we?"

Relief swept across her face, a burst of sunshine against a clouded sky. Too soon, though, her brows furrowed and she returned her attention to the Tengu, words flowing forth without hindrance. "The flowers dread his presence, though surely my lords know this." An unconscious lifting of the pipe and she took a long drag, gaze sharp beneath shuttered lids. "Death clings to him like a second skin, though he does not appear to care. There is no morality within him: all he is remains contingent upon his mistress–"

"That is to be expected of a servant." Father's voice smoothly overrode hers, much like balm applied to an abrasion. "You sense no treachery against Gandara from him?

Shizuru faltered, mouth opening and closing twice before stating, "No, your Majesty–"

"Then leave him be." A rustle of leaves above as Father settled back into his seat, sightless eyes returning to the clearing. "Regardless of your feelings, Lady Shizuru, Hyouga is Gandara's ally. It will do us no good to procure war in a time of peace."

She fell silent at his command, pipe returning to her lips. Disappointment seeped from her rigid stance, the set of her mouth, though I dared not go against Father's word. He was right after all – sentiment had no place in dealings with political allies.

Hiei and Kuwabara continued their squabble as they began making their way towards the healer's tent, dialogue carried forth mostly by the latter. Their words did not reach us but then again, I was not focused on them.

Karasu's eyes never left Hiei though Rui continued playing with his hair, strand after strand looping around childish fingers. More words passed from her lips in their native tongue but he remained unmoved, intent on his subject. I had no doubt Hiei was aware of the Tengu's attentions but he ignored him, not even bothering to glance this way. Still, Karasu waited, silent breaths fogging the folds of his mask.

I leaned over, a single word prompting a seed to sprout and bloom in my palm. Hand pushing a flower into Shizuru's hair, I pressed my mouth to her ear breathing in peony as I whispered "Whatever you do, do not look into his eyes."

She glanced at my hand but said nothing, body now rigid for an entirely different reason. The feel of her hair between my fingers, the blush tinting her cheeks, candied embarrassment mixing with something heady, something dark–

It was almost enough to make me forget.

Suddenly, the hairs at my nape stood on end and I turned my gaze back to the arena. Karasu watched us with the same strange dissonance as before, eyes somehow bold yet unfeeling. His glance hinted at the substance of nightmares – a world in which only gray and the basest of instincts remain. I could not afford to lose myself in that world–

Not again.

"My lord?"

Shizuru's hand was cool against mine, gentle in removing my fingers. Only then did I realize I'd pulled her hair into a tight fist, a grip strong enough to make my knuckles ache. "Shizuru! I'm–"

"No, thank you for the gift." She said, her smile tight as she refocused her attention on our guest. Karasu held her gaze for only a moment but I noted the tightness around his eyes, the nearly indistinguishable voraciousness with which he watched her:

Did his eyes have no effect on her?

Was this the power of a Kuwabara?

Hiei's POV

"What do you mean I'm lucky to be alive?!"

"Are you deaf as well as dumb?" I ground out, keeping my back to the tent's entrance. Oni and Gandaran voices rose and fell with the breeze, pulsing in time with the trees' moaning. Sickly-sweet blood crept from the canvas folds, as well as the stench of overworked bodies–

Both made the mark on my arm itch.

"You should be grateful that you still draw breath."

King Yomi kept his face towards the empty arena, fingers idly tracing wood grains. Ever the peace-keeper, he played his role well; hiding beneath the visage of a crippled monarch. Some of the younger rams prattled on about our king, forcing the age-old joke of the blind leading the blind. Let the fools think what they wanted.

Unlike in Tourrin, our kings did not stay in power through sympathy.

A murmur from a feminine throat and the flowers responded, filling the tent with pale light. Kuwabara's hiss drew my attention and I ducked into the enclosure, ignoring the enchantress' pointed glare. Gauntlets, vambraces, chain mail and dented breastplate at his side, he clung to his tunic, murmuring apologies to the woman.

"I'm sorry, miss; I just . . . can't."

The earrings dangling from elongated ears clattered as she tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "My power works through direct touch, lord Kuwabara." She spoke carefully, each word crisp, deliberate. Hands rolling up his long sleeves, she held first one forearm then the other in a gentle grip, palms glowing green. "You broke a few ribs during your last fight, correct?" His cheeks shone crimson, deepening in color as her hands traveled up. "If even one of them pierces your lungs–"

"I-I'll be alright, thank you!" He stammered, scuttling away from her. Only when his back was to the support post did he stop, though his breaths were labored now, proving the woman's point. "Please, you've done more than enough. I'll be fine."

Before she could respond, Kuwabara had donned his chainmail and, after gathering his remaining armament, stepped outside.

I followed, taking my place between Kuwabara and the stands. Several whispers reached my ears, all from Gandaran throats, all muttering about the human who dared make it this far in the competition.

"You should have let her heal you."

"And sully a maiden's honor? No way!" He growled, tightening the straps securing his vambraces. "A woman shouldn't see a man's body til her wedding night!"

I snorted, glancing back at the stands. Familiar faces rested there, arrayed in embellished finery and hideous paint. Most kept their attention elsewhere, talking with overattentive neighbors or staring openly at Yusuke's people. The occasional set of knowing eyes didn't escape me, though, nor did the lust hidden in their gaze.

A woman shouldn't see a man's body–

What a delusion.

"Hey, look!"

Kuwabara's voice pulled me from them and I sighed, following his gaze. Lady Shizuru sat at Kurama's side still, though the fox now whispered in her hair, tucking a flower behind her ear. The eldest Kuwabara said nothing though pink warmed her cheeks as she murmured a reply, lips curling in a smile.

"Heh," Kuwabara grinned, refastening the scabbard to his belt. "So the prince has the hots for sis?"

King Yomi did not acknowledge their wooing, though one observer watched on without shame. Karasu stood tall at his mistress' side, holding Kurama's gaze without blinking. Gradually, the fox's eyes lost their shine, growing muddled as he lost himself in the Tengu's power–

Just like before.

Swallowing a curse, I braced myself to run to his side. "That idiot–!"

Lady Shizuru acted then, long fingers curling around Kurama's without hesitation. Just like that, the spell was broken and he returned to himself, expression shifting from vacant to horrified as he stared at their intertwined hands. She shook her head at his words, smiling still, though her eyes never left Karasu's.

"W-what's wrong?" Kuwabara demanded, trepidation weighing his tongue. "She's allowed to be there, right? The prince–"

"The prince is a fool." I spat, forcing both hands away from my sword grips. Kurama was acting irrationally: rather than conceal her, he'd brought his treasure into the open, displaying his weakness for all to see. Gems were meant to remain inside vaults, safely tucked away from prying eyes and greedy hands–

Why couldn't he understand that?

Suddenly Kuwabara stiffened, hand rising slowly to his blade. Karasu watched us with the same detached look from before, violet pools pulling despite the distance. Before I knew it, millions of black feathers filled the sky, blocking the sun and leaving me alone.

Countless women found me in the darkness, women with pale skin and hungry eyes. Hot hands raked my body, nails leaving cruel trails in their wake. Bed clothes strangled my wrists and ankles, slender fingers silencing screams while the bell chimed.

"Hey."

She appeared then, tiny feet approaching without a sound. Blue robes splattered with blood, she smiled for me even as red continued to dye her face, her hands, her hair, tears slipping down both cheeks. Please, please don't cry like that–

It was all my fault.

"Hey!"

The feathers parted and she screamed, falling into the black. I reached for her hand, a flailing thing just out of reach. Fear choked my throat, stole my voice, roared in my ears. They were coming to take her away, somewhere beyond my reach.

It was all my fault.

"Shorty!"

But they couldn't have her. I wouldn't let them.

They couldn't have her because she was my–

"Hiei!"

A rough hand on my shoulder and I snarled, glancing up. Kuwabara held Karasu's gaze without hesitation, maintaining the grip on his sword.Mouth set, the human glared at the Tengu, heedless of the sweat dotting his brow and that he'd yet to let me go.

Without warning, Rui placed her hand on Karasu's arm and he looked away, attention focused on his mistress.

I shrugged off Kuwabara's hand, retreating a pace. The knight watched them a moment longer before turning to face me. "You alright?"

Rather than justify him with an answer, I frowned, glaring at him. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Don't play me for a fool!" I hissed, drawing closer. "How did you break the Tengu's power? I thought you knew nothing of it."

"Oh, that." Kuwabara sighed, gloved hand rubbing the back of his neck. "It's, uh, something my grandma showed us a long time ago." I raised an eyebrow. "When someone's having a bad dream, you can stop it by touching them and imagine you're replacing the bad thoughts with good ones. They can be about anything: flowers, hunting, even sweet meats; as long as it's a good thought to you, the bad ones go away." He bit his inner cheek, brows furrowing. "When that guy looked at you, you acted like you were having a nightmare. You didn't say anything, but your eyes got really big and you looked, I don't know, scared?"

I snorted but remained silent, willing the images to stay at-bay.

"So I did what Granny said. Took a little while, but it worked."

The ability to dispel nightmares–

Was that what Lady Shizuru had done?

"Just don't let your guard down." I snapped, walking towards the arena.

"Hey!" He called, armor clanging as he hurried after. "You could at least say thank you–"

"Kuwabara." I cast him a sideways glance, heedless of who was watching. "What is a knight's primary duty?"

"Uh," He stammered, nose wrinkling. "To . . . to protect the lord who hires him–"

"To protect the Crown." I ground out, glaring. "Especially in your case. Out of all the knights in Gandara, the Prince chose you to be at his side."

He fidgeted, greaves whining. "Yeah, I still don't know why, though."

"You don't need to."Movement on the Tourrite side of the clearing; the next match would start soon. "All you need to know is that you are the first person Prince Kurama allowed at his side of his own free will. Remember that."

"B-but you've been with him since you were kids–"

"A child cannot make his decisions any more than the seasons can – both are fixed by a higher power."

Before he could respond, the drums sounded and the Hokushin's men began to sing, calling both fighters to the arena.

Kuwabara straightened as Yusuke emerged from the throng, answering a countryman's insult in his native tongue and slinging a war club across one shoulder. Obviously made for someone twice his size, the Oni prince handled the stone weapon with ease, unmoved by the sunlight glinting off of jagged metal tips. Despite the club towering over him, he smiled at Kuwabara, a grin showing every tooth in his head.

"Don't let his bearing fool you." I instructed as the fool relaxed slightly. "Yusuke has not maintained his position through bravado and the people's approval – Tourrin's court is far more unforgiving than Gandara's."

Kuwabara faltered, gripping his leather belt. "You think I'd throw the match because I like the guy? Get real, shorty." The smirk fell from his face and he stepped forward, helm forgotten at my feet. "I've got too much riding on this."

The Oni's song and incessant cheers echoed through the orchard as they reached the clearing's center, though Yusuke smiled despite Kuwabara's forced neutrality.

"Gie it laldy!"

"Batter the bampot!"

"Ah, shut ye geggie!" Yusuke snarked, planting the head of his club in the earth with a resounding thud. Shouldering out of his plaid, Yusuke lifted his mane so the empty garment could fall down his back, strapped to him only by the thick cord at his waist. Ignoring the women staring at his bare torso, he rolled first his shoulders then his neck, sighing with each satisfying 'pop'.

"H-hold on!" Kuwabara stammered, staring first at Yusuke's chest then the simple trousers he wore. "You're really going to fight like that?"

"What, thinking about quitting already?" Yusuke smirked, flipping a stray braid across one shoulder. "Don't be such a big girl's blouse! Though if you don't think you can win, you could always forfeit–"

"That's not what I meant!" The human growled, flailing hand accentuating his opponent's body. "You . . . you're not going to protect yourself at all?"

Yusuke looked down then, staring first at his bare feet before fingering the material of his trousers and discarded plaid, confusion pinching both brows. Only when the wind shifted and the sun hit Kuwabara's armor did realization hit and he grinned. "Nah, don't need to." A wink and he re-shouldered his club, rolling his neck one more time as Hokushin entered the space. "You won't be able to hit me, so what does it matter?"

Red dusted Kuwabara's cheeks and he fell silent, gaze roving from his thick boots to the dented breastplate. I watched the gears turn in his brain, frown deepening with each tick.

No; surely he wasn't that big of a fool.

Just as Hokushin opened his mouth, he knelt and tore off the shoes, working the straps at his calves.

"Oi!" Yusuke cocked his head, watching the Kuwabara remove the armor one piece at a time. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It's against my code to fight someone on unequal terms." He replied quietly, working at the fauld, breastplate and pauldrons before moving to the metal at his arms. "If you're not willing to wear something to protect yourself, then I won't either."

Hokushin watched on as Yusuke blinked. "Are you stupid?" He ground out as Kuwabara allowed the gorget to fall at his feet. "Don't you know what I can do to–"

"Doesn't matter." Kuwabara cut him off, pulling the mail shirt over his head. "Doesn't matter how strong you are or if you think you need armor or not. I can't fight someone who's defenseless – I wouldn't be a man if I did." Yusuke's brows rose as he stepped away from the discarded relics, garbed in only a navy blue tunic and thick trousers. "Sorry but there are ladies present." Kuwabara said, refastening the sword at his waist before stepping across from his opponent. "This is the best I can do."

I bit back a groan as Yusuke continued to stare, glancing between the armor and the human's back. Did he want to die? Had he not watched the matches before now?

Suddenly, Yusuke let loose a bark of laughter, ornaments clattering as he shook his head. "Man, you're either an idiot or mental! I like that, though." Another grin and he lowered himself into a crouch, club head hovering inches above the ground. "Makes it more fun."

Kuwabara smirked and took up a fighting stance, one leg sliding back as he drew his sword.

"Fighters, ready?" Hokushin called, gaze traveling from his lord to the knight while raising his left arm. I could hear Kuwabara's heart hammering over the drums, though anxiety never registered on his face. Rather, he bared his teeth at Yusuke, lips curled into a satisfied smirk. Unprecedented honor, the purposeful removal of self-preservation–

This was his idea of manhood?

"Begin!"

Yusuke charged as soon as Hokushin's hand slapped his thigh, bellowing a wild cry. Kuwabara stiffened at the sound but otherwise didn't move, following the Oni with his eyes.

Only when Yusuke swung his club did he react, planting both feet and raising his blade in a high block. Kuwabara ground his jaw as stone met steel though he held his ground, stopping the strike at the highest point and maintaining control.

So, the fool paid attention during training after all.

Yusuke opened his mouth wide and leaped back, another whoop bursting forth as he charged again. Kuwabara somehow managed to parry one strike after another, though each hit drove him closer to the arena's edge. Sweat sagged at his hair, clung to his hands and tunic, squeezed the breath from his lungs.

At this rate, wouldn't last long.

Another parry and rather than retreat, Yusuke delivered a swift kick, sending the human flat on his back. The Oni cheered as their prince stood over his opponent, foot planted on Kuwabara's chest even as he leaned on his club.

"We gonna dance all day, or is that all you've got?" Yusuke grinned, leaning forward while shifting more and more weight onto his foot. "Don't tell me you going on and on about restoring your family's honor was just talk?"

I saw the spark as it entered Kuwabara's eyes, watched with veiled satisfaction as he rolled back onto his shoulders, unsettling Yusuke's balance long enough to wrap his legs around him and force him to the ground.

What ensued was nothing less than a brawl. Weapons forgotten, Yusuke and Kuwabara tussled for the better part of five minutes, each vying for dominance. Teeth, nails, hands, feet, anything and everything was a weapon. No sooner would Yusuke rise to the top than Kuwabara would meet him with a swift strike or headbutt, forcing him back to the grass. The same held true for when Kuwabara gained the advantage. Blood and scraps of cloth littered the ground and still the fools continued, urged on by the crowd and their own spirited insults.

After delivering several punches, Yusuke stood, believing he'd won the match. As soon as he stepped away from his opponent, however, Kuwabara grabbed two fistfuls of braids, throwing him to the ground with a boisterous yell.

Muttering a curse, Yusuke rose to his feet, spitting toward the stands. Covered in bruises, blood and cuts, both fighters appeared near exhaustion, though neither showed any sign of stopping. Yusuke flexed his hand, popping knuckles as Kuwabara clung to the sad remnants of his tunic, never breaking eye contact.

All at once, Yusuke glanced down at his hand and smirked, a single fang peeking over his bottom lip. "Say Kuwabara, care to make a little wager?"

I could hear the human's labored breathing from here; he wouldn't last much longer. "Is . . . Isn't a prince not supposed to gamble?"

"Nah, it's fine so long as you don't bet the treasury." He panted, eyes glinting. "How about this – we put everything we have into one last punch. If you win, I'll accept you as my brother – you'll be recognized as a citizen of both Gandara and Tourrin."

Several Oni objected to this, hurling jeers and insults at both competitors. Even Hokushin appeared taken aback by Yusuke's proposal, though he made no move to stop him. How much power did the prince of Tourrin possess?

Kuwabara's jaw dropped though he quickly regained focus, brows knit in concentration. "What about if you win?"

"If I win?" He paused for a moment, trying to seem deep in thought, though I knew better. The tapping of his foot, how he swayed ever so slightly from left to right – we'd played this game since we were children.

Yusuke made his decision before the match started.

"If I win . . ." He grinned, pointing with his chin. "I get that hackit blade over there."

The fool's eyes widened exponentially and he slipped out of his fighting stance, taking a step toward Yusuke. "Y-you can't take that! That belonged to my grandfather–"

"What, you planning on losing?"

"In your dreams, Urameshi!"

Another smirk and lightning began to circle Yusuke's fist, arching whenever it touched skin. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

Kuwabara considered his opponent for a few moments, gaze fixated on the sparks. He wouldn't do it; surely he wasn't that big of a–

"Alright."

A outraged cry from a female throat and Yusuke grinned savagely, willing more lightning into his hand. "On the count of three, then. One."

"Kazuma!"

Kuwabara balled his right hand into a fist so tightly his arm trembled, though fear never once entered his eyes.

"Two."

"Kazuma, wait!" Shizuru screamed but it was too late. They couldn't back out now–

Their honor wouldn't allow it.

"Three!"

Kurama's POV

"Kazuma!"

Shizuru's scream rang through the stands as both her brother and Yusuke fell; only my arm at her waist stopped her from sprinting to Kuwabara's side. She fought my grip even as Hokushin checked on them, ignoring what comfort I could offer. Both Yusuke and Kuwabara were fine–

Hiei's demeanor attested as much.

"Get up, Kazuma!"

Neither fighter stirred. Against all odds, they'd struck one another simultaneously, well-aimed blows finding their targets easily. Burns and charred skin marred Kuwabara's cheek, jaw and eye; even now, the edge of one bronze brow sizzled. Yusuke's nose had tripled in size almost immediately after he hit the ground, cartilage shattered and unmistakably misshapen. Blood leaked from his nostrils and Kuwabara's mouth, the whites gleaming from both of their eyes.

Needless to say, they would not be waking anytime soon.

Shizuru refused to sit until Hokushin declared the match a draw by knock out and exited the arena, escorting both fighters to the medical tent. Even after they'd gone, she maintained her silence, brow knit with worry.

Even with the crisis past, she refused to look at me.

"Young Kazuma fought well." Father spoke, pulling her from her thoughts. At the Lady's glance he smiled, the gesture warm, genuine. "To hold one's own against a prince is no easy feat. However, we would expect no less from a Kuwabara."

Shizuru bowed her head, hands clasped in her lap. "It is an honor to fight for the Crown, my King."

"No, the honor is ours that you would still fight for us after all this time." Father reached out, bark whispering as he placed a hand on her head. "Your father and grandfather would be proud."

Her breath hitched though she hid the emotion with care, closing both eyes. "Thank you, your Majesty."

"Father." I interjected as Shizuru straightened and his hand fell away, twining branches clinging to his sleeve. Karasu and Hiei stood in the arena already, awaiting Hokushin's return. "Perhaps I should fight in Hiei's place."

He raised a single brow though his smile never faltered, scars creasing with the motion. "Why, my son?"

Shizuru glanced my way as well and I willed my breathing to slow, to forget those violent, violet eyes. "Something is amiss, though I am not sure what. Hiei has been behaving oddly since Lady Rui and Karasu's arrival. He may be ill–"

"Or he may be taken with the Lady – Koorime are known for their beauty, after all."

Memories of the night before came swiftly, Rui's demanding Hiei for her bed and my companion's utter repulsion at the request. "No, my lord, that's not–"

"Kurama." I didn't hear my name often on his tongue and normally, I enjoyed the sound. Now was not one of those times. "Have either of our guests done anything to make you believe they are conspiring against Gandara?" Father's smile fell away at this. "If so, I will halt the tournament and listen to you without interruption."

Shizuru's eyes widened and she turned to face me as well, pipe forgotten on the platform railing.

I ground my jaw, once again revisiting the conversation with Rui the night before. However, no matter how her insults toward Hiei stung, nothing she'd said could be taken as a threat against my country.

Father nodded at my silence, resting his back once more against sure wood. "Then we shall speak of it no more."

For a moment, I thought of arguing with him, to try to make him understand. However, a certain hardness had entered father's face, notable only by the firmness of his lips and minuscule creases along both eyelids.

Shizuru chose that moment to speak. "A question, King Yomi."

His smile deepened, mouth pliable once more as he nodded. "Of course. Speak, Lady Shizuru."

She bowed her head, eyes drifting back to the arena. "My lords used the term 'tengu' when referring to Lady Rui's servant."

"Yes." Father replied, raising a brow. "What of it?"

Tongue running across plush lips, she pressed. "What is a Tengu, your Majesty? I have never heard of such a creature."

"No, we would be most surprised if you had, given your youth." Father chuckled, humor warming his voice. "Even Prince Kurama has seen them only through texts."

I frowned as a light chiming sounded, focus shifting once more to the combatants. Hiei stood with his back to us, arms crossed, posture perfect despite the match's delay. A sword at either hip, the majority of his weight rested on the ball of his right foot, the heel of which hung in the air ready, waiting.

His opponent stood nearly twenty feet opposite him, feather-hair drifting on the breeze. Cloak forgotten at his mistress' side, Karasu's garments clung to his limbs like a second skin, cotton tied to both wrists and ankles by leather thongs. Alabaster skin luminous against the fox fur trimming his chest, he watched Hiei without blinking, mask nearly hiding the collar at his throat. His hands held the kama in a loose grip, handles boasting a foot or so of cold chain. Both watched the other with rapt attention, focus never wavering despite the restless Oni.

Both garbed in black, much like bringers of death.

"Tengu hail from Tourrin, though several centuries have passed since they graced the skies of their homeland." Father said, heedless of Shizuru's sharp inhale. "Like most creatures of the air, they sided with our enemies during the Dragon's War, killing their own countrymen as well as our people. Naturally, when the dragons were banished the Tengu joined them, knowing death awaited if they stayed among the Oni. Karasu is the first Tengu we have seen since that time."

A chilling thought gripped my gut. "Father, surely you're not suggesting–"

"No. While Karasu is definitely a tengu, he is much too young to have participated in that war – his kind does not age as ours does." Another chuckle. "In fact, he appears to only be a little older than you, son."

This caused me to look again. True, no marks lined Karasu's face – nothing to hint at advanced age or extreme youth – yet his lack of presence, precise movements and perfect control spoke of experience I could only dream of. These combined with the blood-lust seeping from his pores turned my stomach and my thoughts immediately shifted to Hiei.

"He won't win."

Shizuru's words were soft yet firm, underlain by that knowing she'd always possessed. Her intuitions rarely proved false, yet I couldn't help but wish otherwise this time. "How do you mean?"

Lifting the pipe from the branch before her, Shizuru took her time stuffing the bowl, only speaking once a satisfactory plume of smoke filled her lungs. "Hiei wants this too much – you can see it in his eyes." Another delicate drag, tainted smoke accentuating her every word. "He can't beat Karasu like that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you suggesting his opponent has no desire to win?"

"Not at all, my lord." The title flowed easily from her lips, heating my blood in a way not altogether unpleasant. "Much like a knight's duty to his king, a servant lives only to serve his master. Karasu's fealty to Lady Rui is unquestionable; he exists for her alone. If she asked him for the sun, he would die trying to obtain it for her." Another inhale and sweet tobacco coated my tongue, purple liquid dotting her lips. "Those of Hyouga take servitude to a level unlike any I've ever seen."

My companion remained unmoved by our conversation, though I had no doubt he heard every word. One trait I admired most about Hiei was his refusal to judge an opponent's strength based on appearance or hearsay. In fact, Hiei'd watched each match of the tournament with care, doubtlessly noting every combatant's strengths and weaknesses. However, before now the tengu had yet to use his weapons, defeating every opponent with only his hands.

How would Hiei handle this?

Hiei's POV

The Hornless took his time telling everyone the fools' fate, an outcome which should have been obvious. If a minor battle was enough to impede an Oni prince, Tourrin had bigger problems than a crazed king; and if a bump on the head killed Kuwabara–

He didn't deserve to be a knight.

Both Kurama and Lady Shizuru relaxed visibly, though King Yomi remained unmoved by Hokushin's words, as if there could be no other outcome. The crow watched on with the same listless look, curved blades reflecting the shadow of his wings. His stance never changed, despite the perspiration dotting his chest and forehead, the stench of sex clinging to his skin. The fox was naive to believe the seer's words:

She knew nothing of Tengu.

"Karasu."

The Koorime's voice arrested him, feathers fluttering as he met her gaze. Though she held his cloak in her hands, Rui's attention never left me once Hokushin came to stand between us, an all-too-familiar coldness glazing her eyes.

"Gerir hann meiða."

My body acted without my permission: one brow twitched, breath catching in my throat, fingers inching towards both blades. I stifled the emotion quickly but she saw it anyway; that much was evident in her smile–

I would not tolerate such weakness.

The crow bowed his head, hair parting at the nape of his neck as he showed her reverence. Flesh decimated by scratches, finger-bruises and love bites, bordered the collar at his throat, each telling his true role. The mighty Tengu, proud cloud-riders brought down by a few weak women.

Honestly, it'd only been a matter of time.

Rui nodded, dismissing him with a flick of the wrist. "Fara."

His bow deepened before he raised his head, gaze shifting slowly back to me. Hokushin watched him as well, keeping his anger at bay behind a well-placed facade. While he would have been little more than a child, the Hornless was old enough to remember when Tengu occupied Tourrin: how they defended the kingdom from mountain fortresses, slaughtered countless Gandarans during the Dark Days–

Abandoned their homeland when they were needed most.

Still, the old one held his emotions in-check, not allowing sentimentality or avarice free reign. Instead, he looked first to the crow, then to me, a single question on his lips. "Are both fighters ready?"

Silence fell and I shifted one leg back, arms crossing to grip my swords. Right heel lifted, I sank down, bringing the blades into a ready stance. Karasu did not move, grip relaxed as ever on the kama as he watched me. Though now something shifted in his eyes.

Something dangerous.

Lifting one arm, Hokushin observed both of us for a moment before slapping his hand against his thigh, bellowing, "Begin!"

I tensed, anticipating a strike that never came. The crow watched with the same lack of passion though slowly, surely, the kama began to move. At first I thought it was a trick of the wind but he soon proved me wrong, fingers shifting with sparse, barely perceptible movements. Each kama tipped back and forth slowly, riding atop the breeze like steel birds. Though Oni controlled lightning through a pact with their gods, the Tengu had always commanded the wind, knew its strange tongue from birth–

I cursed my carelessness.

Yusuke's voice joined the throng as I sprang forth, hoping to catch him before the kama reached full range of motion; but it was too late. Both blades met empty air, refusing to slice even trailing locks as he crouched, ducking beneath my guard. Before I knew it his scythe brushed aside my swords, slicing into both stomach and shoulder with ease.

Snarling, I leaped back, pushing the pain to the back of my mind. Karasu stood in the same spot still, lifting one of the scythes to eye level. He admired my blood on his blade, tested it with one finger, chilling violet creeping back to me. Pressing an arm against my abdomen, I bared my teeth at him, allowing a growl to bubble forth.

Another breeze, a fresh word from a feminine throat, and he advanced with speed rivaling my own, blades twirling between deft fingers.

Even knowing how his weapons worked, anticipating his attacks was nearly impossible. For every hit I landed he extracted three more, thin blades slicing at my chest, neck, and arms. A stab of pain at my hip and I cursed again, leaping away from him. I had to put distance between us, buy time to formulate a plan. There had to be a way–

A whistle of wind and I stopped, following the crowd's gaze upward. Karasu hovered several feet above, wings flapping every so often to keep him afloat. The black monstrosities blocked the sun from view, hair twisting around his head like a sadistic halo even as the kama continued spinning. Blood clung to his blades, dripped from my limbs with abandon; even though my hits rang true, I couldn't quench the anger rising in my gut. That blank stare; his unchanging calm, despite the wounds dotting his torso and legs–

He was toying with me.

"Hiei!"

He wasn't even trying.

"Hiei, don't!"

The fox's words reached even here but still the rage came, begging me to decimate my opponent:

To make him bleed.

Suddenly, pain struck my right arm, fiery needles hitting every nerve, artery and blood vessel. I screamed as the ink constricted, red eyes glaring from a clenched fist. The burning intensified as the dragon opened its mouth, engulfing the limb in dark flames.

Make him bleed.

The crow's eyes widened at its growl, another scream ripping through as I leaped for him. Swords forgotten, I caught his kama with my bare hands, uncaring of the blades slicing through flesh. Another growl and I lunged for his throat, jaws snapping empty air twice. The third time his wings thrust him back and suddenly his foot connected with my chest, well-aimed kick taking my breath. Purple flames flowed through my veins all the way down, stifling the will to fight, the ability to think–

Just like before.

When I came back to myself he towered over me, blade pressed beneath my chin, cold gaze demanding I accept defeat. The fire reached my brain and I snarled, fingers popping as claws burst from aching cuticles, begging to tear him apart.

Karasu watched a moment longer, something bordering disgust swimming in those stagnant eyes.

A stray feather filled my vision before the flames burned everything black.

A/N: Hello again! Know it's been a while but hopefully the length made up for the wait! Enjoyed this chapter for multiple reason – namely a certain tengu and uninhibited shenanigans – but can't wait to hear what you guys think!

For those who don't know, kama are Japanese hand scythes, and the language Rui speaks is Icelandic.

Big thank you to Candid Ishida for beta reading!

So, two very different matches and the tournament still isn't over! Who will come out on top? Read on to find out!

Dagda – Scottish god associated with fertility, agriculture, weather and masculine strength.

Lugh – Scottish god of the sun; also associated with thunderstorms.

Dul abhaile – go home

Bahookie – bum

Gie it laldy – do something with gusto

Batter the bampot – beat the idiot

Shut ye geggie – shut up

Don't be such a big girl's blouse – don't be such a whimp

Hackit – ugly

Gerir hann meiða – make him hurt

Fara – go