Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho is owned by Yoshihiro Togashi.

Corrupt

It was a phasing trail on the rooftops of Tokyo, a mere illusion caused by the heat of the afternoon. But to a finely honed eye it was quite different, as once in awhile, the dark blur would bear the resemblance of a boy with wild hair, clad in all black. Too bad there wasn't anyone in the city competent enough to catch even just a small glimpse of his shadow.

Hiei had always been known for his efficiency with speed and his lethality with power. The only thing he prided more was his unpredictability, a fine trait to carry especially in battle. More often than not, it had given him the edge in encounters where even a small disparity in skill could be a deciding factor. The exceptional flair to sneak past any opponent's radar had always given him a sense of control and authority. Unfortunately for him, he would learn soon enough the errors of his logic.

With a light thump, he silently landed on a branch of a tree right next to a familiar house. The fox's den. To this very day, he still found it hard to believe how the demon-thief had managed to abandon his past, his life in a lair of riches, for the small comforts offered in the human world. But was he really any different? He knew the answer but was not ready to be quite as honest with himself as the former-bandit. He snorted, rather amused at the train of his thoughts.

He was about to open the window when something caught his ear. He stilled, his eyes widening slightly. Was that a…moan? It was so subtle that he thought he had imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard a voice, optimistically pitched, distinctly feminine and—

"Onegai…"

—strangely familiar.

He heard furniture moving and feet shuffling before the bed creaked as weight settled on it. Slightly irritated with the blinds that blocked his view, he was about to resort to supernatural means of inspection when the odd exchange carried on.

"See, this is so much better. My legs were really starting to hurt," came the feminine voice.

"Gomen, I didn't think it would take this long."

"Mou, you're so cruel, Kurama-san," she teased.

His eyes narrowed. What the hell is this? He hadn't figured him to be the type to just bring any girl home. In fact, the red-head had always found creative ways to evade the fairer kind and had always been efficient in dealing with their indecent proposals, so the idea of him and a female alone, engaging in questionable activities, just seemed rather preposterous. However…

"I'll try to make this as comfortable as possible for you," assured the fox.

"Hai, please take care of me."

A pause then finally,

"It's too tight. It's not going to fit," he voiced. "Is it okay if you hold this for me?"

"Like this?"

"That's very good, Botan-san. Now I just need you to stretch it out a little…"

…he could be wrong.

A realization finally kicked in and he couldn't help but chuckle. His partner had finally decided to become man enough for a good lay, and here he thought the fox would be spending the rest of his human existence with his virtue completely intact. With his curiosity properly satisfied, he turned to leave only to freeze and do a double take, "Wait, did he just say—Botan?" It couldn't be. Impossible! Kurama and that annoying ferry-girl? Hn, not in a million years. And why would the ex-bandit find her any more than an infuriating, loud-mouthed, pain in the—

"How's this, Botan-san, is it alright?"

"It's still too tight."

There it was again, that name. His mouth opened in shock, his eyes widening like saucers. It took him exactly four seconds to regain his composure, and when he finally did, all he could manage was a stutter, "W-what the hell!"

"Okay, I'll loosen it up a bit."

A masculine grunt.

"Yes, yes, now it fits perfectly!" said the girl.

The dark-haired bystander almost choked at the female's enthusiasm. Who would have thought, what were the odds that Koenma's little deity was actually not as innocent as she pretended to be? A suspiciously long silence followed.

"It's so good! Oh my God, I love you!" the ferry-girl exclaimed.

She sounded blissfully content that it cleared away any doubts that may have suggested otherwise. The amorous declaration caught his interest and instantly had him puzzled, since prior to this moment, not a hint had been dropped to show the degree of their association. He wasn't one to overlook even the smallest of details, and based on the ex-bandit's previous interactions with the girl, they had a familiarity that was no more than a simple camaraderie between comrades.

"I'm glad that you find it adequate enough. I've always thought I lacked in this department."

"You, lacking? No way!" she replied. "If I only knew you were this skilled, I would have never asked for Yusuke's help."

Urameshi? Hiei's facade twisted in disbelief. Isn't that idiot already with another woman?

"He didn't even know how to do it right. I had to do all the work!" she grumbled.

Apparently not, as the girl so eagerly revealed. However, what disturbed him was the thief's obvious disregard on the matter. He knew of his partner's principles, and for him to be aware of her true nature, yet still find no error in any of her ways was just plain ridiculous. He wouldn't just throw it all away for the sake of catering to an excessively eager libido… or so he thought, perhaps the shrewish girl was really a temptress in disguise, and was just too good and especially capable in b—"Damn it," Hiei muttered, repulsed at where his mind had taken him.

"He was kind of mad I even asked him in the first place," she said. "He suggested going to Keiko or Shizuru…"

His brows creased together. Preposterous! Why would he even advise such—he should have known, he was surrounded by a bunch of perverts. He was appalled.

"But I'm glad I came to Kurama-san instead. I've tried doing it on my own, but I just don't seem to have the talent with my fingers."

She spoke with the eagerness of someone sharing a story for the first time that the fire-demon couldn't help but be disgustingly occupied.

"Uhm, can I…?"

"Of course," he replied, chuckling.

"I've never imagined it like this… it's beautiful. The details around it are just magnificent. It almost seems so fascinating how it used to be so lifeless…"

He gulped nervously as her eloquent words were translated into images of well equipped manly regions. He shivered. He really didn't want to think about another man's one-eyed wonder weasel, but the woman appeared to be on a mission to drive him to the end of his wits.

"And now it seems to vibrate with life…"

He knew exactly where this was leading. A line of sweat trickled down the side of his features.

"It looks so alive…"

He choked, his face turning green at the delight in her voice, as though she was speaking of a mere child's treat. The thought of hearing more of the bandit's favorable asset made him want to puke.

"It's perfect, but I'd rather just s—"

Too mortified to even hear the rest of it, the unlucky outsider was gone in a flash. It was the fastest departure he had done in his entire life. With an unexpected glow warming his cheeks, he fled into the woods, away from the corruption of troublesome foxes and red-blooded harpies.

Perhaps it was time to reconsider the notion of snooping around.

Meanwhile…

"It's perfect, but I'd rather just save it, you know, keep it for special occasions," she said with a faint blush across her face. "I don't want to ruin it." Sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed, she studied the hems of the crimson kimono she was wearing, her fingers lightly tracing the floral embroidery. "You didn't have to do this, a simple adjustment would have been enough." She turned to look at the red-head who was casually leaning back against the table. He had his arms crossed over his chest with his head slightly inclined to the side as he regarded her silently. "Thank you," she expressed with a beam of gratitude.

"You're welcome." He smiled back as he watched her with unrestrained amusement.

On the wooden chair to her right, a lavender box was innocently resting ajar, its contents bared with needles, marking pencils, and spools of thread. The name "Botan" was hand-written in pretty swirls on the cover. "Well now you know, I could never sew to save my life," she admitted with a giggled.