There shall be two more chapters after this one, "Flight" and "Ai," and then the story is complete. This may be the swiftest story I have wrote—of course, it is also the shortest. I'm already at work revising "Flight," and have gone over a draft for "Ai," so I may have the both of them up by Christmas, or around that time at least. Until then, I hope this chapter is enjoyed; it possesses one feature that none of the other chapters have: a flashback inside of a flashback. But, I don't believe it is hard to follow or anything.

Black Roses
Chapter VI
Homecoming
December 9, 2006

"Your heartbeat," Yoko Kurama murmured, resting his head against his companion's chest. "It's grown faster."

"It does that," replied Yomi, a smirk on his lips, "when it's pumping blood to a specific area."

"Oh?" Amber eyes adopted a sly look that matched the Kitsune's smile. "What area, specifically?"

Yomi's teeth flashed as he uttered a throaty laugh. "Your coy act never grows old," he declared as he ran a hand down Kurama's back. It squeezed a naked rump, caressed a sleek, silver tail …

Hiei had to close the Jagan after Yomi's fingers disappeared from view and Kurama let out a sharp cry. His stomach knotted, but he wasn't shocked in the least—not after the sight that had greeted him when he'd first come to visit Kurama.

The Koorime had just arrived and, given directions by one of Yomi's underlings, had been wandering in the vicinity of Kurama's quarters when he turned a corner and found his friend, in demonic guise, in the company of the Keep's Lord. The pair was gravitating toward a door he assumed led into Kurama's bedroom. Kurama was swaying on his feet and leaning against Yomi, who supported him with one arm. The pair was gravitating to a door Hiei assumed led into the Fox's bedroom. He thought that Kurama might be drunk, and that Yomi was helping him to bed—.

That is, until he noticed that the arm not holding onto Kurama was moving back and forth, and realized that it disappeared into the silver-haired demon's pants … Hiei froze as Kurama gasped and shuddered violently, squeezing his eyes shut, digging his fingers into the sleeves of Yomi's kimono. The latter chuckled as he withdrew his now-glistening hand, and raised it to the Kitsune's face. Kurama, staring at Yomi through drowsy, half-lidded eyes, flicked out his tongue and licked it clean, and then began to suckle a finger.

The sight made Hiei feel a little weak, and he quickly gave the two back their privacy. He retreated to his rooms and meditated a while on what he had seen. Did Kurama actually care for Yomi, Hiei wondered, or was he experimenting, just as he experimented with holding his true form for extended periods of time? And if there was affection, was it mutual, or was Kurama simply the warlord's sexual outlet?

He scowled, wondering why he contemplated on the matter so heavily. What concern was it of his, anyhow? So long as Yomi didn't hurt Kurama, why should he care?

Kurama was redheaded and alone when Hiei sought him out again, and smiled warmly when he saw the Jaganshi. "I'm glad you came," he said, hugging Hiei tightly.

There was still a faint trace of Yomi's scent on the Fox. Hiei did his best to ignore it. "How have you been?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Kurama's sides. At least it felt like he'd been eating well, Hiei noted thankfully.

"Not so bad," Kurama replied, kissing Hiei's forehead. "I'm afraid I haven't been any true asset to Yomi aside from—aside from companionship, so far."

He thought he saw a faint flush play across Kurama's face. His lips twitched a little, but he suppressed it. "If your companionship… pleases him, then that's an asset enough."

The redhead suddenly looked uncomfortable. "… How rude of me," he stammered. "Would you like anything to—?"

Hiei snickered. "This is not your house," he reminded Kurama. "You are not obliged to play host to me."

"Still," Kurama protested, "these are my lodgings. I could have someone—"

He silenced his friend with a swat on the rear. "I didn't come here for you to wait on me," he growled, running his tongue up Kurama's neck. The Fox moaned quietly, his nipples hardening through his shirt and tickling Hiei. The Koorime stretched upward and bit Kurama lightly on the bottom lip. They overbalanced, and fell onto the bed.

Suddenly Kurama pulled away. "Hiei," he said, sitting up. "We could … go break in your boudoir properly." His casual tone sounded forced, and his body was slightly tense. Hiei understood why: the moment he had hit the mattress, Yomi flooded his nostrils. It disgusted him, not because the blind demon smelled bad, but because the scent was mixed with Kurama's, and sweat. He recalled the scene in the hallway, and did not want to imagine what had gone on here.

A loud shriek pierced the night and resonated down the hall to Hiei's door. Its suddenness startled the Jaganshi; all three eyes shot wide open, and an image assaulted him of his friend and the other … lover.

Yomi had pinned Kurama to the bed and impaled him with a voracious force. The Fox squirmed beneath him, thrashing his legs, crying out as though the other demon was killing him. "Harder … harder …" he yowled, while Yomi's aggression increased. "Harder … ha—Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah!" His ears pressed flat against his head while his face contorted, blushing bright red. "Y-Y-Yomi!" he screamed through clenched teeth.

"Watch it!" the warlord snarled when Kurama fisted one hand in his hair, yanking on it.

"Didn't … mean to pull," the Yoko panted apologetically, hissing as Yomi gave one last, deep shove before withdrawing and lying down beside him.

The blind demon heaved a few satiated sighs, and then rose. "I smelt blood," he said.

"Only a little," Kurama replied, the rise and fall of his chest beginning to slow.

Yomi readjusted his clothes, and pulled an ornate pipe out of his pocket. "I should have a servant bring something to you," he thought aloud. "You didn't eat much at dinner."

Hiei remembered. Kurama's appetite had been lacking, but Yomi coaxed him to eat a little of a course specially prepared for him: the meat of a hare, roasted and seasoned lightly with garlic. An aphrodisiac traced with another aphrodisiac, fed to a creature known for its potency. In a moment of acrimonious humor, Hiei told himself that at least it wasn't soup, but thinking about it struck a nerve somewhere inside of him regardless.

"I'm fine," Kurama replied. Yomi shrugged, and left him sprawled on the bed.

Hiei shut his eyes, and this time replaced the ward over the Jagan. He felt a little guilty, spying on Kurama like this.

He thought of how appropriately Kurama had termed his bedroom: boudoir—to brood. He didn't know how long Kurama and Yomi had been intimate, who had propositioned who, or any details like that. He hadn't asked, opting to conceal his knowledge of the relationship. It was none of his business anyhow—there had been no declaration between Kurama and himself of a commitment, no claim made, Kurama was free to see whoever he liked …

For some reason, Hiei didn't feel well, and decided he needed some fresh air. He stepped outside and found the evening mild; winter was already drawing its close here. The earth smelt clean as he breathed deeply and sighed.

"I hope we didn't disturb you, Hiei."

The Koorime started, and glanced to his right. Yomi strode up to him, smoking the now-lit pipe. Until this evening, he hadn't known the warlord smoked. "I was already awake," he replied.

"I didn't ask if we woke you," Yomi said provocatively. "I could hear your heart rate increase while Kurama and I …" He trailed off, smirking. "It's increasing right now, too. Just like it did when you saw us in the hall." Hiei bristled, which made Yomi laugh. "I'll admit, it was a risky stunt. Instead of you seeing, it could have been Shura…." He looked at Hiei—or rather, angled his face toward the Koorime just so—thoughtfully. "But your agitation is understandable," he observed. "You care about him, don't you?"

Yomi's ears, Hiei thought grudgingly. They were as intrusive as his Jagan eye. He swallowed. "A great deal," he affirmed. Even if Kurama was going to bed with Yomi day and night, with him just down the hall….

"Something ails him," the blind demon stated. "Even in his purer form, something's askew. It's a greater change than his metamorphoses after taking human form—Even then, he was never this acquiescent." He paused, before concluding, "His spirit is sick. He's blanched."

Hiei nodded. "I know. He … we thought that returning to the Makai might help him."

The warlord took a long draught on his pipe; smoke drifted out of his mouth as he spoke. "It is the tragedy of the past," he declared. "You cannot return to it, but you can never escape it, either. It's always with you, but always out of your reach."

Well said, Hiei thought, even if it was an ominous remark. He bade Yomi goodnight, and walked slowly to Kurama's bedroom.

The Yoko still lay sprawled on the bed, but sprang up when Hiei appeared. "I thought you were sleeping," Kurama asked.

"I've been up," he replied, playing dumb to the dishevelment of both Kurama and the bed. "I thought we might go to sleep together, if you want."

Kurama looked at him, and it pained Hiei to hold his friend's gaze. He had always thought Kurama was meant to reside in his "pure form," that while his human body wasn't necessarily a seal to the demon living inside, it was nonetheless an impediment, a shell, a disguise. It would be a lie if Hiei thought that he had never felt disappointment over Kurama's choice to, after regaining his lost form, live as a human after all.

But looking at him now, in the form infamous throughout the Makai, the silver Fox, the acclaimed thief, Hiei was dismayed to realize that this too had a become a shell. It was still wondrous, but the magnificence had been displaced. To Hiei, the silver hair, which he'd once likened to moonlight caught in silk, now reminded him of something ancient and weary. The amber eyes, once so delectably cruel and invoking fear and reverence, were now reminiscent of once-verdant fields that had lost their verve and withered.

Blanched, Yomi had said. Looking at his friend, that very same word came to Hiei's mind. The ethereal awe had faded; Yoko Kurama simply looked worn out.

"I would like that, Hiei," the Kitsune replied. "I'll join you in a little while."

Soon afterwards, Kurama—human again, and smelling like water and earthy soap—crept silently into Hiei's room and approached his bed. Without a word, Hiei pulled back the covers, and Kurama quickly accepted the silent invitation. He rested his head on the Koorime's shoulder, and was unconscious within minutes.

A pang of intense sympathy for Kurama stabbed Hiei, because Yomi was absolutely right: Not even the King of Thieves could steal back his past, and his efforts to recreate—or to cleanse—it in the present would ultimately fail.

'We are not slates,' Hiei thought, Kurama's breath warm on his neck, 'something manufactured, capable of being wiped clean when it is convenient. We are as natural as stones, weathered by the smallest droplets of rain.'