I don't own. Let's get on with it...
"Deal," Koenma said without hesitation.
"Are you so sure this is a good idea, Koenma," Kuwabara muttered.
"The oaf finally has a point that isn't on the top of his head," Hiei said with a nod. "What if she wins or dies in the process? You lose."
"Kurama," Koenma looked to the redhead. "You fight."
"What?"
"You're the smartest and the one the least likely to kill her," the prince reasoned. "Fight her and beat her, but don't let her die."
The teen nodded solemnly. He sighed quietly before stepping into the circle of people.
"What's this," she laughed. "You're putting me up against this—"
"If your next words involve any derogatory remarks about my gender or sexual preferences," hard emerald eyes narrowed, "I suggest you keep them to yourself."
"So he does have a spine," she laughed, tucking a stray strand of inky black hair behind her pointed ear. She deftly rolled her swords over her hands, repositioning the blades. "Too bad I'll have to rip it out."
And so the pair began to circle each other. Kurama's whip snapped in harsh warning in his hand.
"I never really expected the one and only Shadow to be a woman," Kurama mused aloud, looking to get a rise out of her. He could smell the fear about her. Maybe he could use that against her. Anger and fear were almost always used best by an opponent. "How do I know you're the real thing?"
But his plan backfired spectacularly on him. "I never expected the great Youko to be housed in such a pathetic frame," she sneered, cobalt eyes biting with an icy cold. "How do I know you're really a man?"
The beast in the back of his mind bristled dangerously. His eyes glinted gold and Kurama found himself biting back a rather nasty comment from Youko about showing her just how much of a man he truly was. Instead, he chose to crack his rose whip threateningly. "I thought I told you not to comment on my gender."
The assassin, for her credit, didn't even flinch. "What can I say," she fired back with a cold laugh. "I don't listen unless I'm paid to."
With that, she attacked, blades cutting through the air. Kurama dodged easily, knocking the swords aside. When he attacked, she effortlessly evaded.
The dance went on for a few minutes before the first hit was scored; the lick of a thorn across her cheek. She jumped back, the back of her hand wiping at the blood before lowering to her lips, twisted up in an unholy smirk. She sheathed the swords and looked out at him from beneath her ebony bangs.
"It's been a while since I've actually been hit," she laughed. "I guess I can stop testing the waters. It's time to take the plunge."
Ok, so she knew he was more than just that pretty face; he hadn't beaten Karasu with luck alone. The comments had merely been to see if she could crack that damned unflappable exterior.
But her insults hadn't fazed him. And he'd hit her…
The blood in her veins sang with wicked glee as she put up her blades drawing two sword hilts from the leather sheathes strapped to her thighs. The icy silver felt cool and calming in her grip, her skin sensitive to the etchings in the handles.
Her opponent didn't speak but she heard the braying of one of his companions. "What does she think she's gonna' do with those?"
She channeled her aura into the hilts, feeling the runes grow excruciatingly hot against her palms. Blades of pure jet burst from the silver hilts.
She could hear braying from the sidelines; something about move copying. Too bad she'd been using and perfecting this for over two centuries.
She eyed the redhead, meeting his verdant eyes and seeing a touch of shock amongst the emerald ice. "Are you ready?"
And the dance resumed. Attack, dodge. Counter, block. When his whip wrapped itself around one of the shadowy blades, she struck, channeling more energy into the hilts.
The onyx blade burnt completely through the whip, rendering it useless.
She couldn't resist laughing at the look of pure shock on his face. It wasn't unexpected—most people had that look on their face when they saw what her blades could really do. She just hadn't expected it to look so…cute, on him.
She continued her forward drive, slashing half heartedly. It was odd, though she fought for her freedom, she didn't want to hurt him. Just beat him.
When he ducked under her blades, grabbing her wrists, it shocked the hell out of her. The hilts clattered to the ground noisily.
He was too close, his chest against hers, his hands holding hers out to the sides. All she could see were flashes of heated bright green amidst the crimson of his bangs. She had to get away.
Mind racing for an escape, a single, ludicrous thought rushed into her mind and she could do nothing to stop it.
It was a pure shock tactic. But hopefully, it would work.
And if it didn't…Well, it'd be a nice way to go.
Taking a deep breath, she closed the small space between them and sealed her lips to his.
What a way to go, indeed...