Author's Note: December 9, 2007 – For those who may have read this once already and are excited to see "new chapters" being posted, my apologies. Please read the new note at the beginning of Chapter 1, as well as my updated bio page. Basically, I've been going through a process of restructuring my stories, including shorter chapters, which consequently means more chapters, hence the almost twenty "new" chapters to this completed fic. An explanation of what chapters the reviews match to that dated before today are in that note as well. Thank you for your understanding. ((grin!))
Disclaimer – "Yu Yu Hakusho" and all known related characters do not belong to me. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.
"What Goes Around . . . "
by DragonDancer5150
Chapter 9 - Hirui
Pain. His mind was flooded with it, his body on fire with pain. His entire world had been reduced to pain and darkness, unable to open his eyes no matter how hard he fought. The salty-sweet taste of blood lingered in his mouth. Sweat slid down his fevered face as he hung from the chains, dripping onto his chest, burning like acid into his torn flesh. His arms had all but lost feeling completely. Iron manacles dug into his lacerated wrists, blood trickling down one arm from his mangled hand. Discomfort filled the left side of his face. He knew it was the claw gashes. He wondered if he would ever see out of that eye again. Heat from a fire somewhere close washed over him, adding to his torment. The scents of blood, sweat, and fear swam around him on the stale air in fiendishly playful eddies. His throat, already raw and close to swelling shut, struggled to bring life-giving air into his laboring lungs, which only served to send the muscles around his broken ribs into spasms of pain. He felt like he was suffocating. He could not breathe.
He could not breathe!
Panic began to set in. No! He forced himself to calm down. If he were calm, he could breathe. With extreme effort, he focused all of his attention on breathing slowly in and out, trying to block out the agony in his ribs and whiplashed back with the movements.
He became aware of the breathing of another, someone very close. He suppressed a whimper, knowing who it was. He could not decide which was worse: the physical agony of the tortures or the mental anguish of waiting, taunted with the promise of more pain, never knowing when it would begin again - or where. He had been burned, beaten, whipped, and violated in ways his mind fled from recalling.
"And this one is going where I should have sent him in the first place. Don't think that I have been unaware of your crimes. That past has now caught up to you, 'Silver Fox'."
No more than I deserve, then? There is no escaping the past. One can only hope to atone for it. But once it has caught up to you, once the price begins to be paid . . . is there no end to the punishment? This horrific -
"Youko Kurama, you will serve out the remainder of your time in the Pit - should you live that long."
I am indeed going to die down here . . .
Slowly, he became aware that the red-tinged blackness was lightening. Had they moved the fire closer? Was someone approaching with another white-hot poker? The heat on his face grew steadily.
Not far away, he heard something crunching, like shoes over rough gravel. He tried to block out the noise as he was forcibly reminded of the sound of his own bones crunching, the knuckles of his hand shattering one by one under his torturer's tools.
Wood creaked and groaned. It might be the beam from which he hung. It might be one of the terrible instruments around him - a bed binding one down and stretching the limbs or burning the feet, a sharp pyramid for digging into body parts in pressure torture, a chair covered in spikes, or any of a myriad of other vile equipment. Distantly, he could hear the sharp, ever-present cracking of whips and the cries of the tortured, like voices straight from the depths of Hell itself. Some of the cries were his own.
A smell struck him just then, so out of place it was absurd. He was reminded of his mother's breakfasts before she left for work in the mornings and he for school. Mom . . . Shiori's face swam before him for just an instant as tears came to his sealed eyes with an overwhelming sensation of deep, miserable grief.
He was jarred out of his despair in a panic as a sudden light struck him, blindingly brilliant even with his good eye closed. The pokers! Will they take my remaining sight, then?
Or have I died? The white light of death! NO!
8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8
"N-noo!"
Kurama awoke with a start, sweat-soaked, his heart pounding wildly under his splinted hand. The tension of his body burned in the wounded muscles of his shoulder and back. He lay facing a window, the rim of the morning sun just creeping up past the mountains to throw a ray of light into his eyes. The white light . . . The discomfort of his face was from laying on his blanket, sweat causing his skin to imprint with the creases of the cloth.
He forced himself to relax, taking stock of his situation. He was lying supine and he was warm. The last he remembered was laying prone, shivering with cold and in a mind-numbing amount of pain. He still hurt but not nearly as much as he had before. He recalled that he had been alone, then with company. Bokuma? Dog! he thought with a gasp. No. They had not been threatening. They had hurt him but for his own good. I remember now - Hiei and Botan. And . . . There was another, later, but he could not remember her name. She was an old woman, powerful in Reiki. Who was she?
His eyes adjusting to the warm glow of sunlight, he looked slowly around the small, welcoming room in which he found himself. Where . . . where am I? He did not realize he had spoken the question aloud but a familiar voice responded.
"Safe."
Kurama carefully turned his head, the room blurring slightly with the motion. Hiei sat against the wall next to him, one eye open as though he himself had just awakened. He was surprised at the strength of his own relief at seeing his friend. "Thank the gods. Hiei - "
"Shh." Hiei leaned forward, looking him over. "How do you feel?"
Kurama gave him a wan smile. "Like I've been to Hell and back." His voice was still rough and whispery from the abuse to his throat.
Hiei nodded with a grimace. "You have." He pulled himself to his feet. "Just rest. I'll be back." With that, he slid the door open, sliding in a tray of food left on the wood-plank walkway outside before closing the door behind him. Kurama glimpsed a large courtyard with a traditional stone lamp sculpture just in view, a rise like the slope of a hill or mountain beyond the outer wall. The ground of the courtyard was covered in gravel. The crunching noise I heard?
He started to roll to his side, intending to sit up, but something like a small marble under his shoulder caught his attention, especially since he was suddenly aware of it as a source of Yoki as well. He shifted sideways before working himself one-armed into a sitting position, gritting his teeth in pain, then pulled a red-black pebble from under the edge of the blanket. What's this? Kurama gasped in realization. A Hirui stone? Hiei . . . ? It was the only logical explanation. He smiled to himself, recalling just then one comment he had made in the darkness of a tunnel of some kind. "Thank you, Hiei. I have to say - I have never been happier to see you, my friend." Hiei had given no more of a response than Kurama had expected but he knew the youkai's heart. Hiei would not admit to anything in front of others, not even Kurama. However . . . Did you sit watch all night, Hiei? Hm. I am in your debt. Kurama palmed the evidence of his best friend's concern as the door slid open once again.
Hiei entered, followed by the old woman from last night. She looked at him with a smile, her stature so short that she was nearly eye-level with him. "How's my patient this morning?"
"Feeling like I was run over by a Bullet train," he whispered with a grin. "Are you the master of this place?"
She nodded. "My name is Genkai. You were brought you to me very early this morning. Do you remember?"
"Only vaguely. I'm afraid I was not in any shape to recall much of the past several hours."
She grunted at that. "Probably best if you don't. You're lucky to be alive. Here, drink this." She handed him a mug of something warm and off-white in color, chuckling. "Yeah, I know. It tastes terrible but you need the protein."
Kurama had not been aware of making a face but recalled choking down a mug of the stuff last night. "Please forgive me. I do not mean to be rude." He forced down the drink, taking it in a single pull. It hit his stomach, thick and unsettled, but seemed that it would stay there. Handing the mug back, he looked at her in appreciation. "Thank you for your help. How can we repay you?"
"Don't mention it. You're friends of my student, Yusuke, and you serve Koenma," she commented, then gave a wicked grin. "The runt can pay the next time I see him."
Kurama startled at that. "You know Koenma?"
"Have for a long time," she chuckled. "Too long."
Her other comment caught up to him just then. "Wait - 'Master' Genkai? You are the human psychic who perfected the Spirit Wave technique and trained Yusuke."
"Glad you've heard of me, too . . . Youko Kurama." She grinned at his astonished expression. "When you're up to it, the bathhouse is the building next to this one." She pointed to her right, then looked at Hiei. "Botan should be up by the time you two finish breakfast. Be sure he drinks enough." To Kurama, she commented, "I don't know how much you'll actually keep down but none of this should upset your stomach."
"Botan?" Hiei asked. "I thought she was going to play fetch to Yusuke and Kuwabara."
"She did. She got back a few minutes ago. She didn't sleep all night so she's getting her rest now. She requires much less than a human or even a youkai but she still has to recover Reiki."
"Yusuke and Kuwabara?" Kurama murmured with a frown. "They do not need to be dragged into this mess."
Hiei nodded, his arms folded in annoyance. "I agree. It's none of their concern - "
"But they would find out sooner or later," Genkai interrupted, the tones in both their voices sounding like they were continuing an existing argument. "They will make it their concern. Hiei, do not discount the strength of friendship." She grinned. "Even if it's from a mere human - and neither of those two are normal humans. You will be glad for their help."
"Hmph. We'll see."
Genkai shook her head at him, then turned once again to Kurama. "Yusuke and Kuwabara are on their way to Tarukane's. Hiei will be joining them. I suggest you stay here and rest. Of course - " Her eyes twinkled with understanding " - I cannot force you. If you need anything, just call. I'll send Botan in when she's awake." With that, she left, leaving the door open so the fresh breeze could slip through the room. Kurama was glad for the bright openness of the outdoors after the dungeon cell and - He suppressed a shudder, refusing to go there.
Hiei dropped to the floor cross-legged, pulling the tray over to position between them. He poured a warm, amber-colored liquid from a teapot, handing the cup to Kurama. "Honey water. It'll help your throat. Don't drink it too fast." Kurama accepted the cup with a nod of thanks as Hiei broke a riceball for them to share.
Hiei watched his friend for a long moment in silence. "Kurama," he murmured at length, his voice thick. Kurama paused and looked up at him. Hiei hesitated, then closed his eyes, his expression an uncustomary mix of anger and guilt. "I . . . didn't kill those humans." It was as close to an apology as he was going to get but Kurama did not need one.
He blames himself for my condition, Kurama realized in dismay. "Hiei, I believe you. Bokuma has not changed my mind on that, however much he tried." He gave Hiei a wry grin, then sighed. "The trick now is to prove it to those in authority. Someone did kill them. It is up to us to find out who."
"Hmm," Hiei nodded, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed.
Kurama looked again at his friend, noting for the first time the rose gracing his hair just over one ear. "Hiei," he grinned, "since when did you start carrying roses?"
"What? Oh!" Hiei plucked the flower from his hair almost too quickly, tossing it into Kurama's lap. "Since my partner got himself thrown in prison." A small, lopsided grin belied the otherwise harsh remark. "These are yours, too." He pulled a small pouch from his pocket, depositing it next to the rose. With only one hand, Kurama could not open the tied drawstring but his sensitive fingers told him that his collection of seeds were inside.
"Thank you, Hiei . . . for everything."
Hiei did not respond, staring at the uneaten riceball in his hand.
Author's Notes: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!