Two things control men's nature, instinct
and experience.
Blaise Pascal
Little Boy Blue
Gone.
Mustang upheld his stoic facade while his squad searched the warehouse yet he couldn't stop the scowl curling his lips, brow furrowed as he took in the scene. Plundered crates strewn about, the dead embers of a fire; empty cans, piles of tattered uniforms, as well as a set of torn clothes resting alone. A red hand-print – a child's hand – blood staining the dusty floor, a discarded tarp, flaking off the shredded shirt and pants–
Clinging to the dead flowers at his feet.
"Sir?"
He refused to move, to accept the comfort she offered. Gaze fixed on the hand-print, his mind traveled to another night almost a week before, when the air glowed red and screams shattered the silence. One of the intruders had been covered in green, plants springing from his hair, his hands. Everything happened so quickly, Mustang thought he imagined it but no, these were the same flowers, the print left by the same hand commanding the fire.
His superiors wanted answers – answers he didn't have. First, stories of the scar-faced killer, and now four confirmed hostiles, possibly more. Four unknowns, four threats to his country.
And they were gone.
"Colonel."
Mustang started, taking a moment to regain his composure before turning. Hawkeye waited a few paces away, though it was not her voice he heard. Major Armstrong stood alone, shame weighing upon normally bright blue eyes. The Colonel had given him the option of staying behind but he wouldn't hear of it, choosing instead to traverse the few miles in silence. Of course, Armstrong would blame himself. He'd been here just that morning, mere feet from the invaders yet sensed nothing amiss:
He'd allowed them to escape.
"I am truly sorry." The nearly bald head bowed, unable to hold his gaze. "If only I had–"
"You had no way of knowing of they were here, Major." Mustang frowned at a decrepit helmet half-filled with food, rust sprinkling the broth. "You won't be held responsible for this."
Armstrong looked up, recognizing immediately where the responsibility would fall. "Colonel–"
"Colonel Mustang!"
He spun at the call, eyes lighting immediately on the soldier hurrying over. Master Sergeant Kain Fuery stopped before the two, trench-coat crinkling as he offered a quick salute. Mustang returned the gesture, noting his damp sleeves, breath heavy. "At ease."
The mousy man exhaled audibly, sagging under some unknown weight, spectacles slipping down his nose.
"What did you find?"
Fuery took a moment to get his breathing under control, chest heaving. Thin as he was, he'd never been the athletic. Finally, he straightened, repositioning his glasses. "You were right, sir. The intruders were here – we've picked up their trail."
"What?!" Already Mustang was moving, Hawkeye flanking his left. "Where?"
"J-just outside! I'll show you!"
He and the Lieutenant exchanged a look but followed anyway, sliding through the cracked door and into the cold night. Normally, Fuery would never be on the front line of such a mission but rather handling the radio, safely tucked away at the office. The higher-ups had only given Mustang the choice of eight subordinates for this investigation. He hadn't planned on including Edward in that number.
However, he hadn't bet on the arrays being this complex.
At the moment, Full Metal was resting in his room, oblivious to the happenings here. The boy and Alphonse had spent all day perusing Tucker's library, studying not only bio-alchemy but the meaning behind the circle staining the stones near Eastern Command. Things were better this way.
The farther he could keep those boys from suspected criminals, the better.
Havoc waited a short distance away, electric torch in one hand, smoke curling from his cigarette. Nodding his way, Mustang knelt beside Fuery and Hawkeye, watching the younger man gesture toward the grass overlapping the concrete.
"Falman noticed it first." Fuery continued as the Colonel reached for the grass, lenses refracting the torch's light. "They tried to cover their trail but he saw it anyway, said one of them knows something about tracking."
True enough, three sets of footprints glared back from the mud, stripped of the fronds placed with a careful hand. The first appeared close to Havoc's size, only lighter, a boxer's step. The second set were heavy, each print outlining bare feet down to individual toes, as if the earth was unwilling to let him proceed. Finally, the third presented a step even lighter than the first, the balls of both feet the only things which touched the ground, ridged imprints hinting shoes. Each appeared fresh, left around midnight at the latest. Three tracks, all in a neat row.
But where was the fourth?
"They're carrying one."
He turned at Hawkeye's voice, noting her frown, brow drawn. "How can you tell?"
"Because his steps are unnaturally heavy." Leaning forward, she pointed at the middle prints, other hand pressed to her thigh for balance. "The other two did their best to step lightly, not leave a trail to follow. So why wouldn't he?"
"There was a lot of blood in the warehouse." Mustang mused, gaze following the tracks until they disappeared through the side of the decrepit fence. "You think all that came from one person?"
"That's what Falman thought." Fuery pulled the coat shut, ducking into welcome warmth. "He sent me to find you while he investigated."
Mustang shot to his feet, face fixed somewhere between horror and fury as stared at his subordinate. "You mean he went after them alone?"
"N-no sir!" Fuery scrambled up, at a loss for what to do with his hands. "Breda went with him."
Already he was moving, rushing across the lot. "Did he say where he thought the trail led?"
"The old industrial district, a few miles from here. Falman said they wouldn't get far."
"They won't." He stopped at the gate, thankful for the familiar presence at his back. Of course Hawkeye was coming. He'd be foolish to try to stop her. "Ask the Major to have his men set up a perimeter around the industrial district; have everyone else search the area in pairs. If the strangers are found, do not engage – send up a flare and wait for backup."
"Yes sir!" When the two continued through the gate, Fuery hesitated, calling out. "Colonel, where are you going?"
Mustang glanced back, a smirk creeping up one cheek. "Hunting."
"Hold on!"
Hiei paused, glancing back with a derisive look. Kuwabara crept along the structure's brick wall, gasping, weighed by his burden. True, he'd left the human to carry the thickest ones, volumes held in place by his chin, stretching below the waist. Rusted tomes rested in his own arms, weightless yet cumbersome, though he couldn't focus such things now:
They had a mission to complete.
When Kurama taxed them for a favor, he honestly expected another reconnaissance, securing their hideout or more unnecessary comforts for the humans.
Of all things, he didn't expect the fox to ask for books.
We must know what we are up against. Kurama had explained, voice soft, firm. There is only so much we can glean from observation.
"You're too slow." Hiei observed as his companion straightened, ice tainting his tongue. "Hurry up or I'm leaving you behind."
"Will you just wait a second?" He leaned one shoulder against the building, chest heaving, eyes closed.
A snort, worn spines creaking. "Why, so you can salvage your pride? You're the fool who let yourself go while–"
"I've never stolen anything before, okay?!" Hiei watched as his shoulders sank, unable to lift his gaze. Kuwabara grit his teeth, fingers tightening on the bottom-most book. "I know I talked big back in the day but we never did anything illegal – it wasn't manly. This," He shook his head, choice curls breaking loose from his pompadour. "This is my first time."
Even if the demon was accustomed to offering comfort, that wasn't what his companion wanted. No, Kuwabara possessed his own honor code, one which demanded he silently bear both his and others burdens. He never complained about his standard and even now refrained from doing so. What he wanted wasn't pity but a moment to grieve trodden ideals, lines he vowed never to cross.
Unfortunately, they didn't have that luxury. "Come on." Hiei turned away, securing his hold on the volumes beneath both arms. "We don't have much time."
Breaking into the library was far simpler than it should have been: no security system, guard posts empty, not so much as a watch dog. The building was easy enough to find, grandiose and elegant, smelling of aged paper and floor wax. While those from their human world didn't keep centers of knowledge under lock and key, the humans here guarded secrets jealously, ready to protect them at all costs.
Why else would there be such a strong military presence?
The operation lasted less than ten minutes from start to finish: breaking in through a back window, flitting about grabbing random books, then fleeing from their entry point. A simple operation; easy–
Too easy.
They navigated back allies and side streets silently for a time, Kuwabara's steps growing lighter with practice. When they flitted across the main thoroughfare, he slowed once more, breaths ragged. "How much further?"
Rather than answer, Hiei continued through more questionable avenues, trusting the human to follow. He'd know the answer soon enough. A little farther and they could rejoin the others; just a bit more and everything would be–
A fresh scent and he stopped, Kuwabara nearly running into him. "Hey, what's your–"
Without a word, he threw himself against the nearest wall, slick stone sticking to his cloak. The psychic immediately followed suit, senses stretching, sensitive to his anxiety, the tension singing through his shoulders. Their destination was within reach – a manhole in the middle of the neighboring street – yet something didn't feel right, tickling the hairs at his nape.
Then he saw them.
Two men emerged from the gloom, heading their way with hurried steps. Both wore the thick blue uniforms of soldiers; however, their similarities ended there. Though they walked abreast, the taller one radiated calm superiority, confidence, the air of a superior. Despite his energetic stride, the beginnings of wrinkles bled both cheeks, gray-ghosted hair betraying youth robbed by responsibility. His gaze never drifted yet somehow Hiei knew nothing escaped his eye. Perceptive:
Dangerously so.
"You sure you're not seeing things?"
In comparison, the other man was nothing – less than nothing. Short and stout, the only thing of note about him was the hardened look in his eye, the promise of violence. Cropped hair flecked with frost, he shifted closer to his companion, shoulders brushing as he spoke softly, as if that would protect his words. "Come on, let's go back."
"Not yet."
He sighed, running a hand through red fuzz. "Look, we left without permission, remember? When Mustang finds out–"
"I ordered Fuery to brief him so we should be fine."
They were getting closer. Hiei could feel the tension in the Kuwabara's shoulders, taste the sweat on his neck. If these fools didn't hurry, he would give away their position.
Then they'd have no choice but to fight.
"What makes you think they went this way?" The fat one demanded, squinting through the rising mist. "We lost their trail a while back."
"You wouldn't understand even if I told you." Gray Hair stopped just over the manhole, metal plate rocking beneath his feet.
Kuwabara swallowed though Hiei refused to move, gaze flitting to the boots' shining faces. The fox and the detective were down there and while Kurama retained consciousness, he was nowhere near full strength. If simply walking proved a challenge, he stood no chance against these men. Yusuke would protect him but only to a certain point; the fool still had qualms with taking human life–
Such a thing wouldn't stop the soldiers from taking theirs.
"Let's go back." The younger one tried one final time, stopping at his side. "At this rate, the Lieutenant will–"
But the man wasn't listening. No, his head had swerved the moment he stopped walking, staring down the alley to their right.
Right at the two of them.
Hiei bit back a growl, willing the sound to die in his chest. Despite his best efforts, the barest rumble slipped out and Gray Hair's gaze narrowed, piercing the darkness and cloaked air. He took one step toward their hiding place, then another.
Kuwabara's arms trembled though whether from fear, anticipation or the weight of the books, he couldn't tell. He didn't care to know, either. If he still had the Jagan, he could easily convince those fools not to see them–
But he no longer possessed his third eye.
Pressing his elbow against its burden, he freed his right hand, fingers slipping beneath his cloak until they touched cloth bindings. One more; if this human took one more step, he would kill them to bits.
Their blood would be on their own heads.
However, Gray Hair paused, lips twisted, brow knit.
"Falman?"
Gray Hair – Falman – shook his head, shoulders loosening. "Let's go."
Hiei watched them walk away and, even when they were out of sight, listened for their footsteps. Only once sure they were gone did he peel himself from the wall, motioning Kuwabara to follow. Within seconds, he pried away the plate and allowed his companion inside, scanning the street one last time before pulling the cover over his head.
"What took you guys so long?"
He didn't justify the Detective with an answer, dropping his load at Kurama's feet. As far as hideouts went, this was far better than their last abode: a labyrinth of tunnels snaking beneath the city, some well-lit and relatively clean, others dim, dilapidated with disuse. Many of the latter were minuscule, so tiny that even he would have a difficult time navigating them, though that worked in their favor.
After all, such a path led him here.
There were definite disadvantages to sewers, however – unavoidable ones. The very tunnels meant to disorient enemies could confuse allies, making them slow and clumsy. No natural light reached here and frankly, it smelled awful, agony for those with keen noses.
Not to mention there was water everywhere.
Filthy, potent water.
Kuwabara sank onto the platform with a soft groan, books in-hand, exhaustion overriding complaints. He hadn't said a word since leaving the surface, intent on following what he could not see. Hiei had slowed himself for the psychic but sometimes that wasn't enough, there were simply some spaces he could not fit through with Kurama's gift. So they took the long way, a path both well-lit and broad–
And smelling strongly of humans.
Their new hideout carried no such scent, a spacious cavern beneath the north side of the city. Dark fungus dotted the walls, intermingling with rusted pipes both whole and broken, razor edges reaching. The platform itself rested between the mouths of two aqueducts, rivers of waste gliding on either side. Despite the damp air, the concrete slab remained dry, as if the sewers hadn't overflowed in quite some time.
Which was mostly why he chose this spot.
Kurama nodded to him while Yusuke continued tending to the blaze. Before departing, the Detective begged some fire from him, declaring everything was too wet to start one by normal means. The fool had already spent half an hour struggling with the task. Purple flames churned atop the tinder and though Yusuke was careful to bring wood, they'd have to gather more soon.
Demonic fire required more fuel than natural flames.
"We had to take the long way back."
The fox hummed, hands already sorting volumes into separate piles. "Oh?"
"The oaf couldn't fit and nearly got stuck in one of the tunnels." Kuwabara didn't have the wherewithal to argue, flapping his fingers dismissively. "And–" Here he paused, scowling at waterlogged boots. "We ran into soldiers."
Yusuke's hand stilled though the wood fell anyway, lilac sparks lighting the space. Kurama turned to the fire apparition, emerald gaze searching, appraising. "Are you alright?"
Falman's phantom shone in that gaze and he snorted, a sneer curling his lips. "You think a couple of humans would provide a challenge?"
"Hiei–"
"W–we didn't have to fight. They didn't find us." Kuwabara gasped, books falling to either side as he sat up.
Kurama visibly relaxed, tension leaving his shoulders. "Good."
A vine at the fox's shoulder shivered and Hiei looked to his companion once more, tucking away his irritation. Though he'd detached plants from most of the vital areas, Kurama's body remained infested, roots traveling through channels carved by demon energy. For every plant destroyed, two more sprouted within his body, devouring everything in their path. In fact, the roots had now pierced the prison of his life energy, siphoning it away ever so slowly.
Yusuke couldn't see this and, even though Kuwabara could, the poor fool wouldn't know what it meant. Hiei himself remained unsure, though he had his suspicions:
He just hoped he was wrong.
"So, what did you find?" Yusuke prodded the fire, finger ringing the hole in his shirt.
The books proved to be a wide assortment: geography, history, science, literature; even a few children's books as well as a cookbook. While Kuwabara took care with his choices, Hiei had grabbed random volumes from various sections without glancing at the book covers.
Not that that would have helped.
"Aw, isn't that cute?" Yusuke made no attempt to hide his glee, laughing as he picked up a slim work with a boy and a dog on the cover. "Did you get this for the pictures?"
"Shut up, Urameshi!" For some reason, Kuwabara didn't out him for the odd books, shouldering the choices as if they were his own. "You never know, it might help!"
"Kuwabara is right." Kurama took the book away, studying the cover with unexpected intensity. "Humans have always striven to teach their ways to children early on, no matter the country or era. Why should this country be any different?"
"Uh, because this isn't our world." Yusuke rested his cheek in one hand, watching the red head leaf through the book. "And you said this looks like a military state–"
"All the better to begin indoctrination early on."
He turned back to the fire, muttering about soldiers and 'stupid kiddie books' but Kurama ignored him, brow drawing with each page.
Kuwabara, ever-sensitive, noticed the change first. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just, this book is rather . . , interesting."
"What, is Hachi a magic dog that can breathe fire? Did he torch the farm?" Yusuke laughed at his own joke, grinning. "That would be a good story!"
"Will you be quiet?" Kuwabara snapped, inching closer to touch his arm, the neck still cool despite the sweater and fire. "You should be resting; your wounds haven't–"
"I'm fine, really."
Even Hiei noticed him withdraw from his post at the tunnel's mouth, the pensive look in his eye. The last of the flora fell while he studied the pages yet still the roots roved inside his body, demanding respite, release. Still, the fox did nothing, though whether from powerlessness or apathy he could not tell.
Meat.
He needed meat.
"Then the boy from the bog, he trained his dog,
taught it to sit and stay.
But in the word heel, he found most appeal,
for it meant the dog would stay."
Kurama read without preamble or pretense, soft voice doing well in reaching their ears. The psychic followed his finger on the page; even Yusuke stopped prodding the embers to listen.
To no one's surprise, the latter spoke first. "What the heck's a bog?"
"An outdated term for a marsh or swamp, though that's not the issue here." He laid the book flat in his lap, beckoning them to look at the illustration. Sure enough, a boy and a dog were painted in the middle of training, canine sitting while the boy pointed with an outstretched arm. Soft brushstrokes colored the boy's clothes blue while the dog's coat shone every color imaginable – red, gold, green, yellow, brown, orange – every shade save blue. Both appeared happy with their roles, so much so that at first none of them saw the problem.
Yusuke was the first to speak. "That's a funny-looking dog."
Kurama said nothing, focused on the picture.
"At least they got the kid right, but what's with all those clothes?" A grubby finger pointed first to the boy's body then his head. "The hat's hiding his face!"
True enough, blue hid everything about the boy save a sliver of hair and a finger, masking his features.
"Yeah, that is weird."
"You're missing the point."
Hiei left his post, not bothering to acknowledge Yusuke and Kuwabara's puzzled looks. Stopping at Kurama's shoulder, he frowned, squinting at the picture. Blue threatened to leap off the left page, though not for the reason the Detective pointed out. A bold color, majestic and deep. There was nothing childish about this shade, nothing about it fit into the book's pastel world.
Unbidden, the woman from before came to mind, the man with the gloves, the two in the street. All trained soldiers, actively hunting them. Each wearing woolen uniforms–
Blue uniforms.
"Hiei?"
A snort and he turned away, crossing back to the entrance, "Figure it out for yourself."
The three remained perched around the book for a time, mulling over the images. However, Yusuke soon lost interest and fatigue got the best of Kuwabara. In no time, the psychic laid down at Kurama's feet, despite the Detective's jeers from the fireside. He fell asleep instantly.
Setting the children's book aside, the fox reached for another odd find, The Joys of Cooking by Tim Marcoh. Hiei wondered why he wasted time on such a thing but when Kurama didn't immediately set the book down, he held his tongue, watching red brows furrow with each page.
He continued reading in silence long after Kuwabara began snoring in earnest, dark flames casting shadows on his face.
"Find anything good?"
A hum, the barest of acknowledgments. "I wonder."
The last came unbidden, that infuriating habit he had of talking to himself. Finally coming up for air, Kurama glanced at the slumbering human before turning to Yusuke. "You should rest as well: we don't know how long we can stay here."
"You're one to talk – look who just woke up from a three-day nap!" He prodded the fire before leaning back, hand reaching for a makeshift bag and the provisions within. "Don't worry, I'm fine. Slept a bit this morning."
Hiei turned his attention to the tunnel's mouth, shoulder blades digging into cold concrete. Pain gnawed at his navel, pulled at his ribs, pinched his spine with savage intent. Up until now, it hadn't been at the forefront of his mind, an afterthought in the face of duty and peril.
But now, now that they were relatively safe–
"Hiei."
He stiffened at the sound, not daring to turn. Kurama stood at his shoulder, weakness by all appearances gone. But Hiei wasn't fooled; he could smell the decay seeping from his skin, almost see the ravaging tubers hidden by clothes.
The fox continued past him and he followed, feet carrying them halfway down the tunnel. No lights existed here but they weren't needed, not by them:
Not by natural predators.
Once safe from prying ears, Kurama stopped, not bothering to turn.
Unease churned his aching gut, stiffening both shoulders. Head pounding, his gaze roved to Kurama's worn sweater, that exposed back. Against his will, he saw the pale nape peeking from scarlet curtains, thin veins throbbing just beneath the flesh; blue lines betraying a heart–
A human heart.
"When was the last time you ate?"
The question seared his ears and he sucked back a hiss, feet spreading in the narrow space. The fox reacted to neither, back still to him, hands ensconced in his pockets. Seemingly helpless, though Hiei knew better. The measured tone, hidden hands; the fact that the fox purposely separated him from the others:
Did he expect a fight?
"That's none of your business."
He surprised himself by sounding calm, collected; a stark contrast to his racing thoughts.
Kurama turned, the movement slow, calculated. Despite the garment covering his abdomen, Hiei could still smell the dried blood coating his stomach and chest, hear the red rushing to every corner of his body. He saw that chest swell with breath, pulse tickling either side of his throat.
His sweltering humanity.
"It is when your hunger is painfully obvious."
The velvet words belied his gaze, clear and sharp. He ground his jaw, forcing itching fingers beneath both arms. Twin instincts raged against one another, neither of which was feasible. If he ran now, he wouldn't be able to face the others again. However, banishment in a strange world full of humans might prove the lesser of two evils. If he stayed, if he gave into the howling in his ears and fought Kurama, one of them would not leave alive–
Though not knowing which stopped his hand.
"The last time I saw you eat was when we pilfered Spirit World's vaults, shortly before meeting Yusuke." Those eyes narrowed further, emerald slivers glinting in the dark. "Am I right?"
His stomach flared and he immediately pressed at it with his elbows, silently cursing the gurgling. Five years. A trivial number, less than nothing to a demon, yet now held his faculties captive.
Kurama was a fool. Did he really believe he'd intentionally starve himself? First there was the skirmish with the Detective, then forced participation in the Dark Tournament, Spirit World's idea of community service. House arrest in the Human World, Mukuro's summons: anyone who knew the lord knew she would not tolerate such thing in her land. The King's Tournament, border patrol between worlds, Yukina's request to join them at the beach–
Honestly, Hiei hadn't the opportunity to eat, much less hunt.
His preferences had also changed.
"If you do not feed soon, you will lose control." Kurama tucked his chin, daring him to deny it. "Your hesitation has put us all in danger."
Wetting his lips, Hiei looked away, fingers curling into fists. Did he know what he was asking? He couldn't think over the rushing blood, the Fox's heart pounding in his ears. "There will be more than one – one isn't nearly enough."
But he knew that; of course he knew. Kurama's gaze followed him long after he fled to the surface, through the streets and back allies of the city. Those in blue still lurked about but they were easy enough to avoid. The dim hours before dawn witnessed the first snow of the year, dusting his shoulders where he stood near some forgotten heap.
The flakes reminded him of Yukina.
He sighed, shielding his eyes with a rough hand. His sister's smile always appeared more radiant in winter, brightened by endless white and the countless animals she befriended. If he focused hard enough, he could see her smile, almost hear her laugh–
Then the pain flared in his gut again, nearly bringing him to his knees.
Here. Yukina was here, lost somewhere in this pitiful world. Truth saw her, spoke to her, exacted her payment before Hiei arrived, though it refused to say what that payment was. Slowly, her smiling face morphed to one of anguish. The thought of his sister, lost, alone and possibly hurt made his blood boil. To help her, they needed to be prepared.
He needed to be at full strength.
A sound at the alley's mouth and he turned, hand on his blade. A disheveled human stumbled into the dim, a weathered, dirty human nursing a bottle of spirits. Sunken eyes, filthy, overgrown hair and beard; his clothes hadn't been changed in weeks, judging by the smell, and he reeked of alcohol. Drunken ramblings reached Hiei's ears – talk of a dead child – and disease stung his nose, punctuated by a rasping cough. Despite him being armed, the man continued his shuffling gait, senses dulled by fatigue and fire water.
Another pang and Hiei pressed a hand to his stomach, gaze never leaving the intruder. A chance; he would give him a fighting chance. If the man stayed to the other side of the garbage bin, he would go elsewhere. Otherwise–
But he never finished the thought. Feet tripping over one another, the man fell past the invisible barrier with a small cry, a feeble sound that latched onto Hiei's baser instincts.
He surrendered himself to them readily.
A/N: Hello and welcome back! Thank you once again for taking an interest in Divergence – your support means more than I can say.
Big shout-out to WistfulSin for urging me to take the plunge into unknown territory with our favorite fire apparition and also WhatWouldValeryDo for hashing out ideas with me! If you haven't read their work, you need to!
So, we have a narrow escape, a peculiar children's book, and an ultimatum from Kurama. What does it all mean, and how long can they escape Mustang's grasp? Read on to find out, please leave a review!