AN: Excuse me while I boogey down, because LynLin, she of "Naturally" (in the Yu-Gi-Oh! section) has alerted this story and that makes me sort of want to. I don't know. Proclaim that fact in the author-notes, because dude, "Naturally."
So then I bethought myself to actually update. And really, this whole thing is written, but now I'm changing it as I go to make for the ending, which I don't really know any longer because I don't like the one I have any more. We'll see.
Dedication and Disclaimer in the prologue. On with the show…
Chapter Four
"Kurama!" When he stopped and turned, Botan bent over, gulping her breath back. He'd gotten quite a head start, but she wanted to see him before he got home. "Have you thought about how to tell the others?"
He walked back to her, waiting politely and ignoring her flushed face, as a gentleman should.
"There is no news to break," he pointed out sedately. "I have a ghost in my head; I'll get rid of it."
Botan glared. "Trust is the key ingredient in a team relationship! You have to tell them!" Winking and pointing skyward, she added, "With that in mind, there's a little get-together at Kuwabara's house this evening, just you boys. Keiko, Shizuru and I are going to have an all-girls' night and leave you to sort out… things. If you don't go, I'm telling them myself and just having the garden taken out." She whimpered slightly. "But it would be a huge burden not to have something green to look at every morning, so don't make me go through with that."
Kurama shook his head, chuckling. "Admirable. Botan, were I seventeen years younger, your virtue would be in dire peril."
Botan blushed, because he was so very pretty, and then punched his shoulder because they were co-workers. "Careful, your boyfriend might overhear us."
"Touché."
Yusuke leaned back against the wall, alternating between flipping chanels on Kuwabara's lame-ass TV (which, well, the guy had a TV in his room, which definitely excused sitting on his bed), sipping his minty-fresh beverage, and watching Kuwabara trying to build a house of cards on the floor between the bed and the blessed idiot box while they chattered.
He was glad Botan had suggested (pummeled him into) this, in retrospect. He'd been thinking about maybe doing some homework, but this beat it out any day. Too bad Hiei had "better things to do than sit around and play at Happy Families with you humans", since that would have meant watching him and Kuwabara get on each other, but he could torment the meathead on his own.
Flip.
Two guys, one in a hospital bed. That one said, "She's...one of us now. She's a monster." The other one said, "She's an innocent victim." The first one: "So were we. Once upon a time." The standing one gave up. "Once upon a time."
Flip.
Oh, hot blond chick. "Death is not a gift… If I have to kill demons because it makes the world a better place, then I kill demons. But it is not a gift to anybody."
Flip.
Explosions. That worked.
"Hey, Kurama." He nudged the redhead sitting next to him on the bed, back very straight as he stared, ostensibly at the TV. Yusuke had a sneaking feeling that he was, in fact, Thinking, which was a damn shame. "Chime in, man."
He blinked and refocused, a polite smile putting in an appearance. "Sorry, what with?"
"Anything! You're like a statue. We humans like to at least pretend to take an interest in our friends. You know, listen to what they're saying… maybe say something back… you can even get these wacky conversations going. It's all about respecting the other participants. Kuwabara and I were talking about sex."
"No we weren't, Uremeshi, you were! There's only one woman in the world for me -"
"Shut up, no one cares." Yusuke poked Kurama's shoulder. "Come on - you're like three thousand years old. You've got to have some good sexcapades to know and tell."
Kurama smirked. "You have no idea."
Yusuke noted that he wasn't the only one who looked hopeful.
"And," the sort-of demon finished, "you never will."
"Well, that's low."
"I don't mind. A gentleman shouldn't kiss and tell anyway," Kuwabara said snootily. "It impugns the ladies' honors."
Kurama gave in and laughed, finally, a real laugh. "Seriously, though," Yusuke continued, "it's so unfair. If Keiko were half as gung-ho over me as Koto was for you, we'd be in bed like that." He snapped his fingers in demonstration.
"Really?" Kurama seemed genuinely interested. "You didn't strike me as ready to commit."
"Man, we need to work on your guy-talk. You don't say that kind of stuff. You agree and say something dirty about Botan."
Kuwabara made an interesting sound of disgust. "You're gross, Uremeshi. I'm a man, and I'm not afraid to confess my manly love. Yukina and I share a bond beyond all your filthy talk about sweaty things."
"Uhhh… sure. And Hiei's in Guinness because he's so darn tall. Only reason Yukina hasn't whapped you one is she doesn't know you're harboring perverted delusions." Oh. Yusuke brightened as a new weapon presented itself. "Actually - you're pretty much like a stalker, you know that?"
"What the hell, Uremeshi!" Kuwabara's enraged expression was definitely worth not getting to hear him make shorty jokes about Hiei. "I wouldn't ever hurt her! The Pinky String of Love wouldn't work for me if I was a pervert like you!"
"No, no," Yusuke continued, warming to his topic. "You've got this whole relationship going with her in your head and she doesn't know you from Adam. You're taking advantage of her nice… nive… hey, Kurama, what's that word about -?" Whoa.
Kuwabara didn't notice, jumping up to point furiously at his arch-rival. "You know what, Uremeshi, that just doesn't mean much coming from a guy who flips up his girlfriend's skirt in public every chance he gets!"
"Shut up, Kuwabara. Look, Kurama's asleep."
As if to prove his point, the redhead slid more to the side, back relaxing from its ramrod stance and keeping right on going until Yusuke put a hand on his shoulder to stop him crumpling completely.
"Wow." Kuwabara looked fascinated. "Hey! He sleeps like a normal person, even when someone doesn't stick a sword in his stomach or blow his legs off."
"Well, yeah, genius." Yusuke stood slowly, carefully tipping his friend down onto his side so he wouldn't be all cramped when he woke up.
Looking at Kuwabara helplessly, he shrugged. "Well… I guess you should call his mom. He looks pretty wiped. Tell her we're gonna have a sleepover."
I sat up abruptly. "No, don't do that…"
Karasu ran his fingers through my hair.
"The Shankill Butchers ride tonight
You'd better shut your windows tight…"
I stood, moving into the shadows of the attic. "Why do you insist on those songs?" My skin felt cold and clammy. I should not have fallen asleep like that. Not with those two shouting, not that early, not so suddenly.
Karasu laughed and kept singing. His voice was soothing. The tune was soothing. If it weren't for the words…
"They used to be just like you and me
They used to be sweet little boys
But something went terribly askew
Now killing is their only source of joy…"
I spun back to face him. "What did you do?"
He was holding his mask, the light glinting off it and onto his ring, where it was sucked away forever. The room kept growing dimmer. "I haven't needed," he said, holding up the dull silver, "this yet." He smiled just the way I knew he would - like moonlight off the edge of a razor. "Why don't you take me with you?"
I looked over my shoulder at the door, its colored glass panes sullenly shining under the dust. "You shouldn't be able to see that."
His ring gleamed, and the glass stopped. "But now I can smell the blood behind it. Come with me."
I nodded. I knew when to play along.
He held out a hand, and I ignored it. I also knew when not to play along.
Karasu shrugged, and opened a different door, warped wood. It led into a drafty stone hallway, with slit windows looking out on a sea that crashed sullenly against the bottom of the manor, gray sky pressing down on the purple waters. Not the house this room was in. I followed him through it (and stepped in the blood already seeping into the attic from this one).
He was watching me for a reaction, eyes gleaming like a cat's, and I knew not to give him one. I knew these games. And it was important that I believe myself to be losing.
His ring glinted, I remembered Koenma's words; my stomach twisted. I let it show on my face.
"Big sister?" At the childish voice I jumped, spinning around.
A pale, thin, sickly little boy with cold eyes and black hair chopped around his ears. I knew who it was, and turned back to how he was now. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't stop it. This time I was careful not to let anything show.
A young woman looked over her shoulder from her vanity table, set against one wall of the windowless room. "Hm?"
She was beautiful - I knew that, I knew that her face looked like a doll's, all white and red and perfect. And still, she didn't have one - I saw nothing but gray, as if a veil obscured her features, managing to convey expressions.
The little boy walked over to her, holding a china doll with a cold moon of a face and pristine clothes and hair. It looked oddly out of place, and so did the vanity, and his perfectly coiffed sister. Everything else in the room was decaying, a layer of grime eating away at it, leading time as it crumbled the walls and curtains, the musting bed in the corner.
"Would you play with me?"
So many dolls. They were all perfect - no child kept their toys that perfect. They were piled on the bed carefully, an army of empty, lovely masks.
"No, Karasu, I've explained this to you."
He looked away, eyes warming with resentment.
"Karasu…" she sighed, putting one finger beneath his chin and turning it back to her. Her finger was perfectly proportioned to her hand, snow-white, with skin like satin and a nail like a dagger. "Don't pout. You know this. Tell me why I can't play with you."
"Because… you have to be beautiful, and beauty takes effort."
"Yes. Good. And why do I have to be beautiful?"
"So that someone strong will marry you and make Father let you go, and he has to be someone who will let you keep me. But men don't want children that aren't theirs, so you have to be even more beautiful." He recited it by rote, staring at the ceiling.
She smiled beneath the veil. "Good boy." Her not-there face turned to the mirror, her hand reaching for a brush.
"Why does being beautiful help?" The boy kicked at his own feet.
Her eyes narrowed (black, she has black eyes, why can't I see them?), one nail briefly touching her lips, (full and scarlet in her white face - they are, this is all wrong). "Give me your doll." He handed it over, and as soon as her hand closed around it, its face exploded, shrapnel flying; I saw two pieces hit the boy, one in his eye and one his heart; he didn't react, and they left no mark.
When she held it to face him, its visage was a jagged, filthy wreck. One of its glass eyes rolled along the floor.
"There. Now, would you rather play with this doll, or one of the others?"
His face twisted, and he ran to fetch a different one.
His sister nodded approvingly and dropped the broken doll. What was left of its head rolled awkwardly, improbably over the floor and hit my foot. When I looked up, the child's eyes were following it -
- and his eyes met mine -
- His hand closed around my wrist, the real him, and we were walking through a forest of bronze trees.
"It doesn't make any difference," I told him, and sounded defensive easily.
"Maybe," he mused, stopping - and I stopped too, and turned to face him without meaning to, my body disobeying my commands - "it doesn't have to be quite so dramatic. Maybe the little tragedies pile up." He put a hand on my waist, and I lashed out, instinctively reaching for my rose whip.
He was either not being careful or simply didn't care, but either way it was there, and worked. He dodged the strike, though; I sliced cleanly through one of the trees.
It fell with clang that made me cover my ears.
"Foolish," he laughed as my hand closed on nothing. No whip.
We kept walking, and one by one the trees were replaced by silver as we draw farther into the woods.
"You seemed rapt enough once we began," he commented.
I smiled, and knew it was colder than any he'd ever manage. "I would rather you weren't suddenly horrified at your own vulnerability and took it out on me. But I was interested."
"Childhood trauma legitimizes your feelings for me?" It was dangerously close to innocent teasing, or it would be if he were anyone else.
"Pity and loathing do not require further legitimization than what you inspire by your actions here and now." I shrugged, and gambled - not a good idea to let the opponent in on your plan, but it is a good idea to keep them off-balance. "You love your victims. I know mine."
His face twisted, one hand flying out as he said, "Don't assume you're there quite yet, Kurama."
The tree behind me exploded, melting, burning shrapnel slicing through the air, and I ducked instinctively. None of it hit me, so he couldn't be all that angry.
The sound of chopping rang out like bells, and we continued.
When we reached the trees of gold, we could see him instantly. There were a great many of said trees no longer in a position to block anyone's view.
"You don't belong here," he said, bewildered, when he saw us; his voice reverberated through my chest and temples like bass.
"You sound like your brother," I observed. Fortunately, there the resemblance ended. He shared the intimidating height, but was built something like a mountain, as opposed to his brothers' rake-thin forms. He looked open, honest, and chiseled, with bright blue eyes and burning orange hair pulled into a sort of ponytail.
He laughed, a sound as booming as that his axe had been making, without its metallic ring. "Good grief, I hope not! At any rate, I suppose a more accurate way of putting it would be that I don't belong here. Old habits, you know."
"Yes." I glanced around pointedly. "So I see."
"What, this?" He twirled the axe effortlessly, muscles sliding in his enormous arms. "No, no - I'm building. A cabin, to be precise."
"Not," Karasu pointed out, twisting the ring on his finger and looking distinctly put out, "the traditional construction material, as I understand it."
"Well… no." He shrugged. "But you know what my brother is."
I frowned. "I doubt the trees think much of your cabin." I couldn't hear them. Metal or something else, we were cut off. That didn't mean I liked seeing them cut down; they could have been useful if I could get through to them.
"It happens." He sighed regretfully. "Even in the new business."
"It must have been difficult." I looked at the empty, naked glade he'd created, the crushed remains of gold. "Watching everything you touch turn to ash."
He shrugged. "You two'd know." A grin, quick and friendly. "Anyway, you have to admit there's more to it." He stretched out one hand, palm down. All around us, there was a creaking and groaning. Silver blackened and bronze turned green; gold pitted, melted, warped. It speeded and they simply crumbled to dust, leaving us standing in gray nothing.
He closed his hand, flipped it over, and opened it again, like a magician entertaining children with a coin. In his hand, a miniature bronze, silver, and gold forest shone, so small and yet so perfect…
"No one else'll touch it now." He eyed Karasu. "That's your cup of tea, eh?" He flipped it into the air, catching it casually. "Of course, this dinky thing isn't much use or entertainment." He pocketed it. "Ah well - to each his own. It would have crumbled eventually." He turned to go.
I stepped after him, knowing Karasu couldn't stop me (there are rules) and relishing the moment. Catching his arm, I said, "He destroys everything he touches. I don't want him. Take him with you."
He turned back slowly, face sympathetic, and for a moment…
"Not everything," he said slowly. "He's not mine. He'll stay another night."
I clenched my fists, and a hand the size of my head lands gently on my shoulder. "Hey - you know, we all come from your heads. My brother was on about that a while back. How we're your dolls, how you make us up." His eyes met mine, burning in. "And we number seven."
"Three more chances," I noted ruefully. If it made him feel better…
He hesitated. I'd missed something. But he patted my shoulder, ruffled my hair, and said, "Sure, kiddo."
Then he was gone.
Karasu said thoughtfully, "Happy now? Finally, you fit in too." I didn't see him move, but his arms were around me, face buried in the my hair, my hands pressing uselessly on his shoulders. I reached cursorily for a plant, but as expected, they didn't answer. We were standing in a veritable jungle of them, finally things to hear, but they didn't - listen. They waited and watched and wouldn't do as I said. That was all right, I told myself. They weren't the plan.
That didn't make it easier.
He whispered, "Stop trying. Why should they listen to you? I live here." His lips touched the side of my face, almost a kiss. I couldn't move. "You just visit."
Breathe. Wait. "I still own the place," I pointed out. "And you never pick up the wet towels."
"Why do you do that?" He drew back slightly, curiosity dancing across his features. "Pretend you're not frightened."
I threw a punch (same cycle, same movements, give him something to expect) and he caught it without looking away from my eyes.
"Does it make you feel better somehow?"
"Whistle a happy tune," I offered.
He smiled, not the one I knew and not the false grin he'd painted on for King Morpheus - a demented sort of smirk. "You aren't afraid of things you can't see - is that right? Let me do you a favor. I can afford to be generous." He put a hand over my eyes, and when he drew it back there was nothing but blackness. "Now you never have to be afraid again."
"Hey, Kurama! You okay?" Kuwabara was shaking me. I knew my eyes are open, and for one dizzying moment I couldn't see and realize with sick amusement that I was going to vomit on the poor boy for sheer frustrated terror because I wasn't ready for this -
Then I blinked, and there were lights and reflections and colors.
It was just a dream.
Yusuke and Kuwabara were looking at me strangely. "You were freaking out, tossing and muttering, and we couldn't get you to wake up," Kuwabara said, beautifully honest and simple, transparent concern writ large on his square face.
"Yeah." Yusuke looked more suspicious, and as if he'd be happy to hit something and make this go away. "You sleep like the dead."
Reviews. I begs for them.
So, yeah, our first of the Flashbacks because of how the ring is bleeding them together and everything, because Dream is a bastard that way. Backhanded help. Also Kurama is a bastard. And Karasu is a bully and a bastard both. Yay for fun characters!
Shades of Botan/Kurama being because of Windswift's "Acquaintance." She doesn't even like the pairing, but most things of hers are all but canon for me when it comes to YYH, so I have to write them flirting Just Because.