Youko's cold, hard, emold/em eyes sweep over the room, and he somehow looks taller than Shuichi. It's the same body, but somehow just his immediate presence, not quite his actual aura, but his force of personality, adds three inches to his height. He towers over Hiei, who can't help blinking up at him. The switch had been fast, and it seemed to have been Shuichi's choice. Hiei doesn't know what to do.
He's not the only one. Genkai, Shizuru, Botan, and Yukina all seem frozen as well. It is, after all, one thing to hear that Kurama had split into his composite parts; it is quite another to see proof of it.
"You really have split," Genkai breathes, and the lines in her face look somehow more haggard than they did a moment ago.
Youko's gaze settles on her. "Did Minamino imply ambiguity on that matter? Yes, we are no longer merged. The Kurama you knew is dead, and all of that." His voice sounds almost tired, as he turns attention from Genkai to Yusuke, who's trying not to scream or cry at the callousness of Youko. "I presume we went to my – to Shiori first, and then came here?"
Before Yusuke can respond, Genkai steps forward and snaps her fingers. "Hey, fox, attention over here. I was asking your better half some questions when he decided to take a goddamn nap."
Youko's gaze does not shift from Yusuke, but he gives a little snort. "I will get to your questions in due time. However, I would like to first know what exactly has happened since Sh-Minamino took control last."
"Wait, what?" Kuwabara asks, scratching the side of his head awkwardly. "You were with us the whole time!"
Yoko just barely contains his eyeroll as he turns to face Kuwabara. "Minamino was with you."
"Then where were you?"
Yoko grits his teeth. "Not exactly present. Minamino was in control. I was … not in control." It is hard for him to explain exactly where he was without giving the group too much information about the topography of his mind now. Besides, he doesn't know if any of them would truly understand. He was not quite awake, not quite asleep, he was more just – just floating somewhere. Trapped somewhere. Waiting. He was waiting. Conscious, but not present.
"But I thought you two shared memories or something?" Kuwabara asks, the hand scratching his head starting to grip onto his own hair in frustration.
A small breath escapes Youko, and something changes. His jaw is still clenched, his teeth still set against one another, but an almost sadness takes over his eyes for a moment. "Not anymore."
Hiei hasn't moved this whole time, has just watched the different ways that Youko uses Kurama's body, Kurama's face, comparing them to Shuichi's methods, trying to find signs of his Kurama in there somewhere. As Youko's mood shifts, Hiei watches him turn away from the group, but towards Hiei. He watches his face twist with regret, and he wonders how much he even knows of Youko. He knows nothing of Shuichi, but who is Youko Kurama now, after 20 years merged?
emAnd what does that mater?/em he thinks, emBecause he's notstrongKurama/strong/em.
Hiei turns his gaze from Youko, looking anywhere else, and his eyes flit from face to face. Shizuru's unlit cigarette hangs from her slightly open mouth, her brows knitted together in worry, in sadness, in pain, in a million things. Yukina looks to be blinking back tears, at the death of a – a friend, even to her. Botan's face is – is hard to read, somewhere between sadness and realization and – and regret. And Genkai – Genkai looks as old as Youko is. Hiei watches her shoulders sag for the first time since he's met her, before she suddenly squares her shoulders and marches up to Youko.
At her fast, determined footsteps, Youko whirls around to face her, almost sinking into a defensive pose. He's jumpy, Hiei notes.
Genkai thrusts her finger as far into Youko's face as she can, given their respective height differences. "You strongwill/strong tell me about this later. strongAll/strong about this. And you will stay here until we strongfix/strong this." Her face is as fierce and determined as it ever is, and her tone brooks no argument. Yusuke's heart skips a beat.
Or, rather, it would, if it weren't emYouko Kurama/em she were talking to. "There is no emfixing/em this," he practically snarls back. "I will remain here, to heal and determine the best course of action, but I will not indulge your false hope. Your friend is dead. Let him go, now." em Before this gets even more painful, for all of us./em
"As long as you and Minamino are still alive," Genkai yells back, "then it's not false hope, emfox/em." She spits the word like a curse and a bit of spittle lands on Youko's cheek. For a moment, he looks indescribably furious, and Hiei feels his muscles tense for a fight, before the mask of blankness drops once more.
Youko straightens, his gaze and presence withdrawing into him. "Believe what you will." His voice is as bland as his face, giving nothing away. "I shall go procure a room, if I am to stay here for some time." He nods at her before turning to sweep from the room.
"Wait!" The high, tear-choked voice is Yukina's. Youko stops, his face still bland as he turns towards the small ice demon. He raises one eyebrow in question, and it seems to cow Yukina for a moment. Both Hiei and Kuwabara bristle, ready to leap to Yukina's defense, but Yukina steels herself and steps forward. "You're injured," she says, walking closer, offering her healing powers. But Youko shies away from her proffered touch.
"As my youki returns, I will heal," he says, still no trace of emotion in his voice.
"Come on, Kura-Youko," Kuwabara corrects himself awkwardly, "at least let her fix up your face. Might help diffuse some tensions if we didn't have to –" the kick Yusuke delivers to his leg shuts him up pretty fast, as the temperature in the room drops a few degrees.
Youko turns his cool, bland gaze to Kuwabara, who finds himself shivering under it. "Minamino did, in fact, pay a visit to Shiori, did he not?"
"Uh – yeah. I mean, there was this whole thing, and she cried and he –" Kuwabara fumbles through the answer before Youko cuts him off.
"Then my face must heal at a human pace, must it not?" He asks, allowing the slightest hint of condescension to leak into his tone.
"Oh. Uh. Yeah, I – I guess" Kuwabara says.
Without any further acknowledgement, Youko sweeps from the room for real this time. Silence rings in the room for a moment; no one knows what to say.
"He's kind of a dick." Even Hiei can't help a little half-laugh, as Shizuru sums up the situation pretty well.
"Can you really, um, 'fix' him?" Yukina asks, turning her wide eyes towards Genkai.
Genkai heaves a heavy sigh, but her shoulders stay set in that determined way. "We'll see," she says, her lips thinning to a tight, hard line.
"How?" Yusuke asks, surprised to find how hoarse his voice is. "How do we - …" He tapers off, not quite sure what the right word is. Save? Resurrect? Fix?
"First, we find out what happened. Then we undo it," Genkai says, and as simple as it sounds, everyone knows it's not simple at all. Even just getting either Youko or Shuichi to tell them what had caused the split was a momentous task in and of itself.
"Hey, uh, guys?" Kuwabara asks, softly. "I know we're all – I mean I know – Look, this situation sucks and all, and we're all pretty upset but – look, the dude did just get tortured, ya know?' Kuwabara takes a tentative step forward, towards Genkai. "We're all dying for answers here, but," Genkai turns to meet Kuwabara's gaze, and he falters for a moment, "look, just, cut him some slack, okay? Maybe don't push so hard, right?" It's almost funny to see how Kuwabara seems to shrink under the weight of Genkai's glare, this tiny old woman cowing this giant punk.
Yukina steps forward and lays her hand on Kuwabara's arm, shoring up his defense against Genkai. "He needs time to heal," she says softly, eyes still full of tears she's trying not to cry. Genkai's jaw visibly clenches, before she nods, acquiescing to Yukina's request. Hiei feels the fire underneath his skin again, as he thinks about how long healing whatever happened in that room (emthat room/em) will take, before they can even begin to attempt to put right was has been done wrong here.
"Someone go get the asshole some blankets," Genkai calls out as she turns towards an exit that leads into the woods around the shrine.
"Where are you going, old bag?" Yusuke can't stop himself from asking, because yeah, maybe they should wait, but Genkai shouldn't leave, she should be here, she should be ready to emfix this/em, the moment she can.
"Out," she mutters darkly as she exits into the woods.
The group stands still for another moment after she leaves, processing everything. Then, collectively, they seem to break from it.
"I should go see about those blankets," Yukina says, patting Kuwabara's arm as she leaves to enter further into the shrine.
"I'll help," Shizuru mutters, following after.
Botan, who has been remarkably silent throughout this whole encounter, suddenly pipes up. "I – uh – I've got to go take care of some business for Koenma." Yusuke shoots her a worried glance, but lets her go without comment. Botan probably just needs a moment alone to process this, or cry, or something.
Yusuke, Hiei, and Kuwabara remain in the room, alone together once again. Without a word, exhausted at all that has happened in the past few days, the past few months, they head out together towards the porch facing the forest Genkai is probably destroying at the moment. The three find their own seats, Kuwabara and Yusuke collapsing against the steps and Hiei perching a little further up on the porch.
They sit there in silence for some time, until finally, Kuwabara breaks it. "At least he's safe."
"He's dead," Hiei tried to spit the words, but they got caught somewhere and came out a little choked instead.
"Genkai can fix it," Yusuke mutters. "Right?"
No one answers, but the question rings in all their minds. emRight?/em
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Youko Kurama picks a room at the end of the hall on the first floor. It has sliding doors that open up onto a small flower garden, one that Kurama had helped Yukina design and create. He remembers the hours pouring over seed catalogues, going to nearby flower markets, helping her plant and water the actual garden. It was maybe three or four years ago, now, and it brought him some comfort to be able to look onto it as he pleased. He allowed himself a few brief moments, his shoulders sagging, staring out at the garden that he remembers and yet has never seen for himself.
He straightens, however, when he feels two people, Yukina and Shizuru, headed towards his chosen room. They're headed right for it, so Shizuru must be guiding Yukina to his energy. He squares his shoulders and turns to face the door, silently sliding shut the outer one he had opened to look upon the garden. He does not know if Yukina will know why he has chosen this particular room, but he certainly doesn't wish to give her any hints in that regard.
There's a soft knock at his door before it slides open and a mound of blankets high enough to block Yukina's face starts to make its way into the room. Shizuru slips in after her, carrying an extra pillow under her arm.
"Genkai wanted to make sure you'd be warm enough, while you're recovering," Yukina explains, placing the heap of blankets at the edge of his bed. As Shizuru throws the pillow down at the head of the bed, Yukina turns towards him eyes wide and patient. A part of him wants to smile, and thank her. He keeps his face an impassive mask and nods instead. Her face falters slightly, but she still smiles. "Let me know if you need anything, alright?" He gives no response. She bites her lip, bows slightly to him, and edges her way out of the room.
"You could be less of a dick, you know," Shizuru mutters as she doesn't leave the room, but rather slides open the doors to the garden and lights her cigarette. Youko shoots her annoyed look, the smell already beginning to bother him, but she doesn't move. "Everyone here's going through a lot right now. You could attempt a little sympathy. They did risk their necks to save you, after all."
"Whereas I, on the other hand, am dealing with nothing more than recovery from what I presume to be weeks of torture," he bites out, bitter about the whole circumstance.
Her eyes flick to him. "Months."
He curses Karasu and his son all over again. "Months."
"Still," she says, attention back towards the garden, "you can't convince me that a demon as old as you hasn't been tortured before."
He chokes down the response that he wants to give, that being tortured before doesn't necessarily speed the healing process, that damage is done regardless, that recovering his mental faculties will be no small task, that being an ancient, immeasurably strong demon doesn't protect you from emmonths of abuse/em. He chokes it down because telling her that, letting her, and anyone else who might be listening, know exactly how wrecked he is gives away far too much information.
Instead, he says, "So what would you have me do?"
"Like I said, be less of a dick." She takes a long drag on her cigarette. "Maybe be a little softer on the whole, 'your friend is dead' thing."
"So, what? I should smile?" He does so, his face falling into a gentle, sad smile. "I should say how sorry I am, how I will mourn him too?" She turns to look at him as his voice changes, and finds herself staring. "I should be soft, and gentle, and say I understand how hard this is, and work all of you through your mourning process?" She finds herself unable to breathe for a moment, like a ghost has stolen her breath. He drops the façade, and her breath returns to her. "I will not spend my time pretending to be something I'm not." His cold, hard eyes bore into hers.
She swallows for a moment, eyes blinking rapidly. "You're a first grade asshole, you know that?"
"I'm well aware." His lips draw back in something too tight and too painful to be a smile.
"No one's asking you to pretend to be him," she says, unable to control the volume of her voice as she stands and turns to face him. "Just a little compassion."
"I am not a compassionate creature," he says, his voice rising to match hers. "I will not support your false hope that emhe/em will be returned to you, and I will not have you look to me to replace him." He steps closer to hers, his eyes narrowing in anger he doesn't bother to conceal. "strongI am not emhim/em./strong"
"Trust me, no one could mistake you for him!" Shizuru yells now, throwing her cigarette on the floor of his room and crushing it beneath her foot. "I won't have you treating my friends, my family, like shit just because you emthink/em it's false hope! Although, frankly, I get why a merger might be impossible now. Lord only knows how Minamino put up with being merged with you for so long."
The anger is roaring in his ears now, and he feels his muscles tense for a fight. He wants to kill her, he wants to kill her for that. "You speak of things of which you know emnothing/em," he spits, clenching his fists and reigning in his instincts as best he can.
"Then tell us," she spits back. "I know it's hard for you to conceive of, but maybe some of us could come up with a fucking solution."
"You wish to know what has happened?" His voice goes deadly calm. "Fine." He brushes past her walking into the garden, his mind practically blank with fury. He finds himself plucking a rose, something he'd insisted Yukina plant, for his own ability to defend the shrine if not for its beauty. "Have you ever been tortured?" He plucks a petal from the rose. "Have you ever had someone's mind forcibly enter your own?" He plucks another. "Have you ever had someone tear down every wall," another petal, "barrier," another, "restriction," another, "defense you put up?" The rose misses half its petals now. "Have you ever had someone enter your mind and tear apart everything you are, split you into pieces," three quarters of its petals gone, "and have the pieces bear the memory of exactly how that felt?" The rose is bare now, the petals scattered around his feet. "Do you know what it is like to remember that? To remember being torn asunder, to remember being," he swallows and clutches the rose stem so hard a thorn breaks skin in is palm, "being whole?" He turns to her and gestures at the petals at his feet. "Do you think it can be emfixed/em ," he spits the word like an insult, "so easily?" Shizuru blinks back at him, eyes wide in shock. There is and has not been any expression in his face or voice as he shredded the rose. She stares into what might as well be a blank wall. He drops the stem and turns away from her, walking towards the forest, needing to be away from – from everything. emDo not think you alone bear the pain of his absence, of this – this stronglack/strong./em He feels the twinge of absence in his mind, feels how utterly alone he is for the first time in twenty years. He feels Shuichi, and he feels the void between them, and his mind throbs with it. He walks into the forest, and opens up his mind to the plants, just to get some break from the quiet in his head.
They sing to him for a while, in the way that plants do. It's the middle of spring, and they're just starting to look forward to blossoming, and everything that entails. They're happy to see him, he hasn't been by in ages, and the plants don't care if his energy is a little different, a little darker. They don't care that he's not emKurama/em, and they don't push him for anything, not even a boost of energy. They just want to talk to him. He finds himself collapsing at the roots of a truly ancient tree, although still younger than himself. He listens to their singing chatter, and lets himself breathe for a moment, the first moment since he'd – since Kurama had been taken.
He feels old. He had assumed it was weeks in that room, but that had been a guess at best. He knew it was longer than days, but it felt like years. He had negotiated down to weeks, figuring his friends would not have let him be missing for months. That had been Kurama's line of thought, when he was taken. Plan E, or something similar to that, was to wait for rescue. He would most likely be able to free himself shortly after being taken, after finding out what the demon wanted, and then killing him for it. But, just in case, his friends would find him shortly enough.
He had not planned for the Jagan. Foolishness on Kurama's part, he supposes.
He wants to stop thinking. He wants to stop hearing his own voice inside his head. He longs for – for something he will never have again. He knows that.
Just for a moment, for one moment, while his defenses are so thoroughly wrecked, he lets himself emwant/em.
And then he locks that away, and sets about rebuilding himself. He feels the weight of each wall he builds settle on his shoulders.
He has no clue how long he sits there, the weight of his own mind on his shoulders. He has no clue how long it has been since he left the shrine, much less since he got to it. That will return to him, he knows this, his ability to tell time will return. It is the first thing to go, during torture, and the last to return. When he can tell time again, he will be something closer to whole.
Hopefully.
"You look old." The voice cuts through the chatter of the plants, and his eyes fly open. Genkai stands before him, her energy masked. With him sitting cross-legged at base of the tree, they're almost the same height.
He swallows down the response Hiei or Yusuke would give (emYou're one to talk/em), and instead chooses, "When one hits a certain age, one ceases to look sad. Instead, one just looks old." His voice is tired, as he indulges himself in his last few moments before he must cement the blankness in place.
She huffs a sad little laugh at that, and comes to sit next to him. She gives him enough distance that he feels comfortable, showing more consideration than he expected. She produces a flask from her hip and offers him the first draw. He shakes his head; the last thing he wants right now is to muddle his faculties any more than they already are. She shrugs, and downs half of it in one gulp.
"It must have been quite something," she says, after a moment, her voice as tired as his. "Whatever broke that bond of yours."
He blinks back the memories that threaten to resurface. "Yes."
"Didn't think anything could do that."
In a rare moment of complete honesty, in this small moment of indulgence he is allowing himself, he answers, his voice tired and sad and urging on broken. "Neither did I."
She turns to look at him, now. His eyes are closed, his bangs shadowing the upper half of his face, but she watches the set of his mouth, the downward cast of his head, and she emknows/em. She knows that he did not want this either. That he, the great Youko Kurama, is as hurt by the death of their Kurama as anyone. She wonders what it is like, for him. She expected perhaps shame, that anything he was part of was so taken off guard, so thoroughly hurt, but she sees none. Instead, she sees the longing that he is trying to lock away. And guilt.
She sets that aside for the moment; she'll parse it later, figure out a course of action, but for now, she sits with him and mourns.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
It takes Hiei about an hour and a half to grow tired of sitting on the porch with his former teammates. His whole body starts to itch, as he realizes that he can't sense Kurama in the shrine. He reaches out with his mind, and feels the cool touch of something almost like Kurama from out in the forest. It's the same sort of green, but it thrums with life less, and it's colder, darker somehow. He supposes, as he heads towards it, that this must be what Youko feels like. The phantom stab wound throbs.
He keeps his energy carefully concealed as he enters the forest proper, following the call of the almost-right energy. He perches high in a tree, and looks down to see what he can only presume to be Youko Kurama leaning against a tree, apparently meditating, with Genkai sitting next to him. She downs the rest of a flask and throws it down on the ground, resting all of her weight against the trunk of the tree now.
No one moves, not for a long time. Hiei watches Youko Kurama, who sits perfectly still in an inhuman way. He thinks, for a moment, about how there was a time that this was what he wanted to find: Youko Kurama, just in a human body. This was who he had wanted to be his partner. Instead, he had gotten a hybrid of human and demon, not quite either. His Kurama had rarely been able to be this still; even when he was deep in thought, plotting, Kurama would fiddle with a pen or a plant, or twirl his hair around his fingers.
The stillness removes any comfort Hiei might have gained from just looking at Kurama's body, which was at least safe. The stillness made it clear just how not Kurama this was.
Hiei closes his eyes, letting the cool – no, the cold green of Youko Kurama flit across his senses. He clenches his jaw, and enters his own inhuman stillness.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Time to go in," Genkai says, hours later, as she pulls her old bones back up to a standing position. Youko opens his eyes and blinks, surprised to find the forest dark around him. emMinutes/em, he thinks. emThat felt like minutes./em Genkai jerks her thumb back towards the shrine. "Even with your healing, you've got a lot of work ahead of you. Cold won't help." She glares at him until he stands, inhumanly fluid, and begins the walk back to the shrine. She follows behind him, rubbing her back. "I'm getting too old for this," she mutters.
She follows Youko back to the shrine, then back to his room, and makes sure he settles in for the night. emShe thinks I will run/em, he muses as he shuts the door behind him. He feels the human instinct to change into bed clothes, but decides against it. He feels more comfortable in clothes he could leave with at any moment. He would prefer to avoid the vulnerability associated with pajamas.
As something occurs to him, he glances down at his clothing. He recognizes the symbol embroidered on the edges of the fighting tunic, and realizes that they must have procured new clothing for him from Yomi. It's simple enough, probably some off duty clothes of some guard, and could be passed off as something from the human world, thankfully. He wonders what Shiori thought of it. He wonders if Shuichi thought of that, or if he just headed home without thinking. He feels the lack again, and decides its best to track down someone who came with him. No one ever did catch him up on what Shuichi did while he was in control, after all.
He closes his eyes and reaches out his senses. He finds himself flinching away as he finds Yusuke's strong demonic aura, his breath stuttering for a moment. Perhaps not, he thinks. He feels Kuwabara a little further off, the spiritual beacon strong. Yes, that will do.
He opens his door to find Genkai propped against the wall opposite. She glares up at him. "Going somewhere?"
"I need to speak to those who were with Shu – Minamino," he says, calmly. She considers this, then nods. As he heads towards Kuwabara's energy, she falls into step a few paces behind. "Am I always to have a tail then?" he asks, not allowing annoyance to creep into his tone.
"Have to make sure you don't take off on us," she grunts back. He resists the urge to sneer and continues forward.
Eventually, he winds his way through the halls to the kitchen, where Kuwabara is apparently gorging himself on an overly tall sandwich. He coughs to get his attention. If his cough is timed with Kuwabara taking a bite, well, he can't help that, can he?
Kuwabara chokes and splutters for a few moments, whirling around to see Kurama standing there, one eye raised. The expression is so Kurama-like that for a moment Kuwabara almost thinks – but the eyes are wrong. Cold, hard emeralds, he is learning, designate Youko Kurama. He gasps for air, and manages to choke down some water before wheezing out, "What'd you do that for?"
"I need to ask you a few questions," Youko says, carefully, as he steps into the room, "about what happened with Shiori."
"But you were –"
Youko cuts him off. "Minamino and myself are no longer connected. We each experience the world separately, and the other retains no memories of what happens while they are not in control." His voice is as blank and informational as it can be, hiding behind a mask of not quite indifference, but just flat nothing.
"Oh," Kuwabara says, his eyes dropping. "So – so you're really –"
"Split," Youko supplies. "Yes." Kuwabara nods, blinking rapidly, and Youko finds himself tired of dealing with others' grief. He finds himself wishing, just for a moment, that everyone could know the sense of locking your emotions away. "So," he presses, "emwhat happened?/em"
Kuwabara stumbles through an explanation, going back several times to correct things he misremembered. He talks about how Shuichi was crying, hugging his mother, and Youko's heart constricts painfully, but his face shows no sign of it. He allows himself a nod at Shuichi's explanation of their absence. Admitting fault, although unpleasant, was the only reasonable way to explain his absence for so long. Admitting fault often makes people believe you more readily than a perfect lie.
He wonders, for a moment, if Shuichi has lost his ability to tell time. If he knows how long they were gone for, if he factored that into his plan, or if he even thought to find out before going home.
He supposes he'll never know.
"And, uh, then we just headed up here, and we were talking to Genkai, and she was asking what happened, and then Minamino just kind of said he didn't want to answer the questions, so uh yeah then you, I guess, took over? Or however that works?" Youko's eyes flit over to Genkai, and he surprises himself with his anger. She had forced Shuichi back? She had pushed Shuichi the way she pushed him? Did she not emknow/em? Shuichi was not exactly a demon, he was not exactly used to torture, and she –
"I will take my leave," Youko says, voice blank. He gives Kuwabara no other acknowledgement as he sweeps back down the series of hallways to his room, where he shuts the door after him in finality. He hears as Genkai settles herself across the hall, and, alone in the room, with no visuals in on him, he lets the anger show on his face. He slumps down onto the bed, angry tears building, and curses humans for crying when they get upset. But he is no koorime, and he has no concern over tear gems, and so he lets himself cry. Silently, face buried in the pillow to hide the scent from anyone sniffing around, he cries. It is like this, with his face in the pillow and the blankets still piled at the bottom of the bed, that he falls finally into a deep sleep.