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There was a strange warmth and comfort which came from the fox’s presence. Within this structure built of clay, brick and stone, inside of a space which smelt of the earth and the depths of the Makai, he felt peace. The fox sat a table which oddly smelled of wood, the voice within his mind told him that it was a desk , but he could not see the use of it aside from holding things. Things which seemingly bored the fox to no end. Books with various pictures, numbers, letters, and configurations which bored him endlessly but seemed to enrapture the fox as he poured over them one by one beneath an odd metal lantern. The voice within his mind reminded him once again that it was a desk lamp but he was not interested. No, what interested him was the minute flicks of the fox’s eyes as he glanced from one set of words to the next. The deft movement of his fingers as he wrote on a page then stopped, the sound of the lead against the paper in time with the turning of a page and then the process would begin anew.
He wanted to say that the fox was beautiful like this but the description felt far too simple . Enchanting, enthralling, mesmerizing, nothing seemed to fit and as he scoured the reaches of his vocabulary for an appropriate descriptor, the fox would take another breath and his attention would be stolen. He’d long since deduced that the fox was dangerous. Able to steal his focus with a breath, the mere hint of his presence, or simply being . But it was not awful nor was it in unpleasant. Perhaps sordid wasn’t the word to describe being in his presence. Nothing that felt this consuming and distracting, warm like being submerged in —
“Hiei, are you alright?”
Though his eyes were open, taking in every one of the fox’s movements, he wasn’t entirely aware . If he had been then he might have noticed the way that the fox was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern in furrowed brows and pursed lips. His eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t like that expression on the fox. The upward curve of his lips when he found something amusing, the glint in green irises when he said something clever, the faintest hint of a smile when he glanced in his direction away from the prying eyes of others. Those were the expressions that he liked the most on the fox, and though he couldn’t imagine finding anything about him displeasing, he would have guessed his displeasure came from his involvement in causing such an expression.
“Hiei,” the fox repeated, his voice sounding closer and when he blinked, he saw that the fox was indeed closer.
Roses, the wilds of the Makai, fresh soil and something else clung to him and try as he might to scent the air while keeping his place, he couldn’t quite pick out the final smell. Whatever it was, it was soothing just as he was soothing. Yes, sordid wasn’t the word to describe this feeling. The fox did not make him feel dirty or unclean, and he did not inspire disgust or vileness. Not of the likes that he’d seen before, and he’d seen much and more than he would have liked. But nothing like him.
The fox’s lips parted though before he could utter a word, a loud clap of thunder from outside broke the silence between them. He turned his head to look toward the window, the fluffy white towel draped across his shoulders rubbing against his cheek and catching the water from dripping black locks. The rain pounding against the window sill reminding him that he shouldn’t leave anytime soon. Nor did he want to. The fox glancing between him and the window, something akin to understanding clearing the confusion from his eyes as he nodded.
“The storm should end soon,” the fox said, rising with such grace that he wondered if it was practiced, then making his way back to his desk. “Will you be headed back to the Makai?”
The thought crossed his mind. The smell of the forests, wide open plains, an endless sky free of the pollution that humans caused, far away from the sounds of machines and the endless chattering of man. Though the Makai was far more tame than it had been in the past, it was still home, and yet…
It did not have a metal box which would show him interesting pictures. The voice in the back of his mind reminded him it was called a television but he did not feel the need to filter his own thoughts.
The Makai also did not possess this familiar structure made out of clay, brick and stone or this space which smelt of earth, roses, and soil.
It did not have the fox either. Try as he might to think of a way to persuade him to venture into the Makai if only for a moment, to stand at his side beneath that endless sky. Though for one reason or another, the fox had his reasons for not returning and though he wished for him to do so, he would not dissuade him. It was his decision to make and he would support him — they both would, the voice in his mind told him.
“Kurama.”
His voice rough from disuse and husky seemingly startled the fox who turned to look at him with a tilt of his head.
“Yes, Hiei?”
Closing his eyes, he settled back against the wall and listened to the rain as it fell. The gentle settings of the house in the floor, the roof, the walls. The rise and fall of the fox’s chest as he breathed and the beating of his heart though he wished he was closer so that he could hear it better. That would have to wait. The fox did have papers to write — homework , the voice in his mind reminded.
“When will you be finished?”
His world tunnels in as he focuses on the fox’s thoughtful hum, the shuffling of papers, and light tap as a book is closed and set away.
“In a few minutes, fifteen to twenty at the most, why do you ask?”
He hums in kind then tucks his chin against his chest, arms folded as he settles in. His silence is an answer in itself and he hears the fox’s chair as it is pulled out and he takes a seat, the scratching of the lead against paper and turning of pages comes quicker than before. The corner of his lips twitch and try as he might, he could not help but smile as he opened his eyes to peer at the fox.
There was an unparalleled warmth and comfort which came from the fox’s presence. The faintest of smiles on the fox’s lips as he worked to finish with an eagerness that at first glance might have been mistaken for dedication sent a thrill through him. Looking over his shoulder to the window and the world beyond, it would have been easy to leave but he had no desire to. If it was Kurama’s decision to stay here then he would stay with him.
Catching sight of his reflection in the window, dark irises normally colored crimson were an inky black.
“Alright, I’m done, Hiei.”
Blinking once, they returned to a shade of crimson.