Thanks to everyone who responded to the first chapter and encouraged me to continue. I hope you continue to enjoy this little fantasy of mine.
Warnings: Yaoi. I own nothing. I have a creative liscence and I use it.
In Yomi's kingdom, the sun rose at three a.m. Demon time, not human.
Kurama knew this, because he was awake to see it happen.
Even if he had not been fully convinced that his "friend" had someone watching him, he would not have allowed himself the temper tantrum he so desperately yearned for. Yomi would find far too much satisfaction in an unbalanced Kurama – and even if the fox's former second never found out about it, Kurama still saw acting out as some form of surrender.
Watched and stubborn, Kurama's options were limited. Screaming was out, as was pacing. He had no doubt that any attempt to leave the room would be met with resistance.
He certainly couldn't sleep.
Without an outlet for his rage, fear, frustration, and anxiety, any form of rest was impossible. Kurama was trapped with nothing but his own mind, his recent mistakes chasing each other like dogs in endless circles.
A "leisurely" exploration of his apartments led him to discover a balcony. Dragging one of his apartment's heavy, gilded chairs outside at least provided him with a momentary distraction.
As he sat, he mused – he could very easily escape over the balcony. Flee to Hiei or Yusuke, send word to Spirit World to send someone to watch over his family while he was away. Either of the other kings would be more than willing to grant him safe passage in return for the information he could provide them.
But "safe passage" was not the same as respect, and neither king would likely accept a cowardly turncoat, no matter what he knew of their enemy's plans. And the next time Kurama and Yomi met – as they were sure to do, given his current luck – there would be no more of this polite playacting. They would be enemies, pure and simple.
Additionally, as there were no overt threats on his life, fleeing would only cause him to forever lose face within the demonic community. And while it was true that, after this mess was all over, he doubted that he would ever again return to the demon plane, Kurama had long ago sworn never to deal in certainties. He could not afford to appear any weaker to his youkai brethren than he already did.
Being outside did little to calm him. Gandara was a city, set much in the fashion of human cities – and in the fashion of human cities, there was little plant life to be found. What flora he could sense within the city limits were too weak to provide him with any peace of mind.
There wasn't a single park within the entire metropolis, and Kurama knew that Yomi had planned his city that way on purpose, hundreds of years ago, on the off-chance that he and Kurama would one day cross paths again.
Furthermore…
Kurama closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath of night air.
This city, the capital of Yomi's kingdom, was the exact place where the Youko and his band had clawed out their territory, a thousand years before. There was not a single acre of that old territory not covered by city, and not a section of city that extended past the boundaries of the territory.
Kurama had cultivated their territory. It had been one of the few things he actually cared about back in that Youko lifestyle. He had known every inch of the land, held influence over every single plant.
And Yomi had built his city atop it.
Was it a sign of his hatred, that he had done this, or had he meant it to be a sentimental gesture?
With this new Yomi, it was impossible to tell.
The city was completely silent, stretched out below him. A city should be quiet at this hour, but silent? Kurama wondered if Yomi had some kind of curfew in effect.
He wondered if he would be surprised if he did.
Kurama opened his eyes, feeling no calmer than he had before, though he knew that it was helping him to think on Yomi's new personality. What seemed like meaningless, panicked meandering now would allow him to calmly face Yomi tomorrow.
No, today.
Kurama sighed quietly to himself, wondering how it would be best to appear when Yomi returned to him. Should he go to bed and pretend to have slept, or be waiting, perfect and calm, by the door? Would it hurt him to be found as he was, outside?
The sun was rising.
Kurama rose and went back into his apartments. He had forced himself to unpack his backpack shortly after Yomi had had come to him with his final threat, and for a moment, the young man found himself regretting that he hadn't brought more clothes. Foolishly, he hadn't considered the need to make a visual impression on his former friend. He should have realized that the way he appeared would matter to him, at least, even if Yomi was incapable of noticing. His entire mood could be influenced simply by the reflection he received in the mirror.
At the thought, Kurama glanced at the gilded mirror that hung on one of his apartment's few real walls. His human form looked more frail and delicate then ever, trapped and tired and frightened. Innocent, as well.
Compared to what he had been, he supposed that his human form was innocent.
Through the mirror, Kurama watched his eyes grow harder.
Yomi did not return to Kurama's apartments.
Instead, he sent a messenger to "invite" him to dinner.
Kurama had been waiting all day. Yomi had, no doubt, waited so long to call him in order to make him uneasy. He was having him meet him in an unfamiliar room for the same reason.
He would be disappointed when he learned that his plan had backfired. The extra time alone had done nothing more than help Kurama. The fox had been patient in his Youko form – his long stretch as a human had only helped him to increase that trait.
By the time they at last came to call for Kurama, his mind was cold. He had at last formulated his plan, pushed away his every emotion. Yomi would not surprise him again, would not gain the upper hand. There was no escaping the mistakes already made, but at the very least he could prevent new ones.
His guards were clearly surprised by the sight he presented them with when they came into his room, and he rewarded them with a smile, politely requesting that they lead the way to his "dear friend."
They left him outside a pair of large, heavy doors, liberally carved with fantastic images out of Youkai legend. It was both strange and sad that Yomi had filled his palace with so many splendorous visual images when he could not enjoy them.
He should have died that day.
Kurama reached out, fingertips lightly brushing the carvings as he wondered if any satisfaction at all could be had from the feel of them, rather than the sight. He closed his eyes, fingertips caressing the sinuous form of Nalinoula – a Nagi of Youkai legend who had led a nearly-successful rebellion against the Spirit World.
The artist had been skilled. Kurama's fingertips could pick out each of her tiny, sharp teeth, her lips drawn back in a snarl. Her eyes had been carved slightly raised so that he could feel her "mad-eye" glare. The arm raised with the war hammer was taunt and muscled, and each of the scales of her tail had been carved in excruciatingly minute detail.
Kurama opened his eyes once more, hearing a shifting from within the room. A slow smile spread across his face.
Had he reacted the way Yomi was certainly expecting, he would probably be standing in the hall just as he was now, except frightened. Terrified. Trying to hide it. Ashamed.
The guards had left him alone, but he wouldn't have been able to run even if he had been of the mindset to consider it. There would have been no honorable way to explain himself.
He could feel Yomi on the other side of the door. Feel his pleasure, his triumph.
Kurama stilled himself, taking full control of his breathing, his heartbeat. He didn't want Yomi to be able to read him at all.
When he was ready, he pushed open the doors.
The room was large, rounded. The far, curved wall was made up of windows, their sheer, black curtains left open to reveal the night sky, dotted with the strange stars of Makai. There was a long table, with seating enough for twenty. At the far end, two places were set for dinner.
On the wall opposite the table, there was a large fireplace and a sitting area.
A thick rug of white fur, a raging fire. Two high-backed, well-cushioned chairs. An end table held a crystal decanter of liquid.
And comfortable in one of the chairs sat the king himself.
"I was expecting something more subtle from you." Kurama stated by way of greeting.
Yomi tilted his head to the side, puzzlement momentarily flashing through his expression. He pushed it away quickly enough though, and smiled at Kurama.
"I thought it would have only been insulting to go on pretending that this is anything other than what it is," he replied smoothly. "Please, come in. And close the doors behind you."
"It would be my pleasure."
Yomi's laugh filled the room as Kurama turned to do as told.
The fox had to fight to keep from smirking.
"So," Yomi's voice called. Confident, mocking. "Have you reached your decision?"
"You haven't left me much of one, now have you?"
Yomi gestured to the table.
"Shall we share a meal first?"
"No." Kurama murmured, crossing the room. "I think we should get this over with as quickly as possible."
"I'm pleased to see you've accepted your fate."
"Resigned, I believe, is the correct word."
"Still rebellious?"
"Always."
A laugh. Some tension had eased from Yomi's expression as he became confident in his victory. It was a small comfort to the bit of Kurama left deep inside who still wanted to cry and scream to see proof that the man did not know him as well as they'd both assumed. Yomi had held at least a small sliver of doubt that Kurama would not comply to his wishes.
He would learn soon enough the futility of wishing.
Kurama moved across the room. Glided. His footsteps made only the slightest whisper of sound against the darkly stained wooden floor. It wasn't nearly as long a distance as it had appeared as he moved to his friend's chair, gracefully lowered himself to his knees at his feet.
At last allowing himself a smile, Kurama leaned up and twined his arms around Yomi's neck, letting his fingers run through those long, glossy strands of black hair. He gave a quiet chuckle as he heard the other man's breath hitch.
"Now," he murmured, pulling the horned demon down so closely that their breath mingled. "That wouldn't be nervousness, would it, friend?"
A quiet chuckle.
Kurama's smile grew.
Yomi came eagerly to him as he pulled him down closely, their lips meeting. It was tentative at first, almost laughably shy. As much as Yomi had changed, as much as he'd tried to emulate the thinking and speaking patterns of his old friend, no one had ever taught him the trick to kissing. Or perhaps he was even more nervous than even Kurama could read.
His tongue sought entrance almost immediately and, with a private laugh, Kurama granted it.
The king tasted of lightening and rain, of sugarcane and spice, and deep, deep below it all, the warm, metallic taste of human blood. His hands had come to rest against Kurama's waist, but now they moved, tight against the gauze of his clothing and the slim sides of his body. Up over his muscular arms, to the back of his head where his fingers entangled themselves in the slick, silky mass of silver hair.
Yomi paused.
Drawing the king's lower lip in between his teeth, Kurama pulled back slowly. Though he would be met with no gaze, the fox rolled his eyes upwards.
"Problem?"
"There's something…there's something different about you."
"Oh?"
Kurama pushed Yomi back playfully against the seat and, sliding his body against the other demon's leg, settled himself into his lap. Again his arms went around his neck, again he drew him into a kiss.
Yomi's hesitation this time was from more than nerves. The blind man's hands moved searching. Sliding up a tightly-muscled calve, skimming over broad shoulders. Kurama laughed into his lips, pulling away and tilting his head back as the king's fingers slid through the thick fur of his tail.
"You changed forms."
"Wasn't this what you wanted?" Kurama taunted with false innocence. "The Youko, here for you to take as you will. Tamed. Chained. Ready."
"Yes, but…"
"You can have me, Yomi. I agree to your proposal." he allowed the very first traces of his anger to seep in, his voice growing hard. "However," he added, "There is no part of me that is human that you will touch."
Yomi was very still. One hand was on Kurama's thigh, the other on his hip, but there was no passion to him now, no excitement. A smile curling his lips, Kurama leaned in and rested his forehead against his once-friend's.
"You didn't care about the human side of me until I took it away from you, did you?" he asked, a smooth whisper.
"Kurama…"
"And that, dear friend, is precisely why you will never have it."
Another moment of stillness and then, almost too quickly to catch, Yomi was moving. He dumped Kurama to the ground, struck him, cursed him, railed against him.
And Youko laughed.
To be continued
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