What Runs Deeper
a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi
chapter eight
"Breaking Through"
Hiei made his way up the stairs from Shigure's lab at a much slower pace than he would have on any ordinary day—not only because he was favoring his right leg, but because the thought of what he was about to do added to the slew of emotions pulsing stronger and stronger through his veins.
He had never intruded upon Mukuro's mind in this way.
He was aware of someone walking next to him, though he had chosen to ignore it even as they walked through the halls and drew nearer to the exit of the fortress.
The more Hiei thought about it, the emptier and more confused he felt.
In some profound way, Mukuro had been providing him with stability . . .
It had meant more to him than he realized.
The words escaped before he could think of stopping them: "She doesn't want you."
There was no immediate response, but then the behemoth said quite neutrally, "It's the parasite."
And there was no point in arguing. They were already outside.
The forest held a familiar sight—the lot of Mukuro's men beating each other to a pulp. Quickly, though, Hiei realized that it wasn't each other they were beating, but a weak, bird-like demon that they pulled from the trees. From here, he could sense that her men had grown stronger, and the demon they had captured would not survive much longer if unaided.
But that was not Hiei's problem.
He spotted Mukuro watching the scene unfold from a nearby tree, and without a second thought, he ran and leaped—far less gracefully than usual—so that he was perched in front of her on the branch.
His injured leg trembled from the exertion, but Hiei ignored the pain and looked hard at her, searching for any trace of familiarity in her expression.
She turned and stared into his face for the briefest second before she smacked him away.
Hiei landed awkwardly on his back, all the while inwardly cursing his physical handicap. Then, before he could stand, a surprised gasp of air was pushed from his lungs as a sudden weight landed directly on top of him, and Hiei opened his eyes to find Mukuro looking down at him with cool displeasure, her bare legs on either side of his torso as she—perhaps unwittingly, but probably not—ground herself into him, pinning him to the ground.
Her temperament had not improved, it seemed. She was the same as she had been.
Ignoring the sharp pang of disappointment, Hiei tore his bandana from his forehead and cast it aside, a heightened awareness taking hold as the Jagan opened.
He looked into her face again, holding her gaze unwaveringly. "Mukuro," he said, and penetrated her mind.
But something was wrong.
Something was in the way, a barrier, and he couldn't get through.
For several seconds, all he felt was a darkness thick with anger and primal desire, and then she was hitting him, and it was gone.
She struck his arm, then his chest, and then she stopped to wipe his blood from her face, and despite the opportunity, Hiei could not bring himself to hit her.
Fighting her like this did not bring him pleasure like it once had, and none of it would be the same if he knew that she was not herself.
She threw her fist again, and he barely managed to shield his face with his palm in time.
"Stop," Hiei commanded. "You're being stupid."
She deliberately ground herself more tightly against him and hit him with her other hand, and Hiei was lost further in an abyss of confusion and sensation. Physical communication had always been paramount between them, and it had always come so naturally to him. Why now could he do nothing but lay frozen beneath her, body stiff as she held him there, fists slamming into his skin?
Hiei wished that it didn't have to be this way.
She worked her hips, and he fought down a guttural noise. "Enough," he growled, body tired, her insistence quickly draining his strength.
Then Mukuro leaned closer, and Hiei raised his free hand firmly to the nape of her neck, wishing to keep her there until he accomplished what needed to be done, and once again reached into her thoughts.
At first Hiei found only what he had before, that fog of lust, and as he sifted through the haze, he felt her hands moving down his person. He understood more clearly than ever what she was intent on having take place.
Then she stopped, and suddenly—
Hiei?
It was only a faint echo, not enough to overpower the chaotic buzz of everything else—still, Hiei heard it, and his grip on the base of her skull tightened.
The tone filled him with a welcome relief, and for a second he was so elated that he didn't know what to say.
Mukuro, and then, all he could think of, What the hell are you doing?
Mukuro's hand moved a bare inch.
Hiei! Her voice echoed in his mind. Stop it!
Her hand found his belts and she broke one.
Please! Kill me!
Hiei felt his blood run cold, and his breath caught in his throat.
Don't be stupid! He felt her hands pulling at the second belt. You can fight this! You can still win, you bitch!
I can't! Hiei's next belt yielded to her. I can't! I just fucking can't. . . .
She was trying to jerk his pants down.
Please, Hiei. I don't want to do this anymore!
Do you think I enjoy this? he shot back. Do you think I like it any more than you do?
He let go of her head and grasped her hands, pulling them away from his pants.
Even if he had the strength, Hiei couldn't fulfill her request.
Dammit, Mukuro, I can't let you go.
I can't let you go.
Mukuro's hands were moving from something—something she wanted.
She didn't know what she was doing anymore.
Her eye was leaking, and her head was hurting, and someone's voice was screaming.
Her voice.
What was she doing?
Why?
Where?
Hiei.
Who?
Hiei . . .
Hiei?
"Mukuro," came his voice, and she opened her eye.
She stared.
He was there, and she wanted him.
She reached for him, but she stopped, and she growled.
Who was she? Who was he?
Why did it matter?
She snarled again and tackled him. This was his fault.
Wasn't it?
She couldn't focus.
She couldn't focus, and suddenly she couldn't see.
"Hi—"
She screamed again, and someone else was shouting her name—was it him?—but she couldn't tell.
She was shaking.
"Hiei!"
Was she imagining it?
She felt something, and she clung to it, blindly.
"Hiei!"
Someone sobbed for a moment.
Then . . .
Nothing.
There was noise.
Then she said his name—once, twice.
She held him and sobbed, and Hiei knew—knew that it was her.
He spoke her name again and clutched at her tattered shirt, pulling her closer, oblivious to all else as he was blinded by the incredible fact that she had won.
She lifted her head and looked at him, the haziness fading from her eye.
Then, the moment after recognition seemed to strike her, she hurled him through the air.
The last thing he knew was the audible crack of his back against a tree before everything faded away.