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To Hiei, the forests of Hanging Neck Island were too young and sparse to be compared to the weathered, resilient giants that dominated the landscape of Makai. Even the current cauldron of bloodlust, killer intent, and general mayhem that permeated the land from the largest gathering of demons on this side of the barrier seemed merely to create a pale imitation of his home.
But Youko Kurama’s current presence in the heart of that forest, sitting in the roots of the island’s largest tree, for a moment the imitation was nearly a passable reality.
A wave of homesickness shivered through Hiei, crouching in the highest branches of the neighboring tree, watching just downwind. His own youki was just barely reined in--it writhed over the surface of his skin, prickling, yearning to reach out.
For the moment, Kurama didn’t appear to notice Hiei’s presence. He sat with his back pressed against the trunk, completely absorbed in a small, mauve plant that grew, bloomed a vivid red flower, and returned to a seed, first slowly, then quickly. Hiei thought he could see tiny, pointed teeth lining the leaves. Apart from the occasional flick of his tail disturbing the vegetation beneath him, he was so still as to nearly be a statue, like some guardian of the forest.
With his youki so expertly masked, and his silver hair and clothing shadowed in the shade, no one ought to have been able to find him. Kurama often took great pleasure in sneaking up on Hiei for trivial matters, but Hiei alone could always boast of his success in tracking down the greatest thief of Makai, not once but twice now. No mean feat, even if he allowed that this time had been merely a stroke of very good timing--his Jagan reaching out to find his teammates, locating Yusuke and the idiot immediately, and brushing Kurama’s presence for merely a split second before it rippled and reformed, shifting as it did less than twenty-four hours before in the arena. It was the only aberration that could have compelled Hiei away from his own training.
So this was his partner, a proper demon again. Questions swirled in Hiei’s mind--how did Kurama obtain the secrets of the Idunn box, with Uraurashima dead, what did he do to obtain it--but all were superseded by the sheer pleasure in the rightness of that form. Kurama in his human form was hardly weak, but his body was fragile; Youko Kurama, on the other hand, could eliminate far greater threats with just the right twitch of his fingers.
Hiei didn’t bother to hide his presence, dropping out of his perch just a few feet away. Kurama didn’t immediately react, coaxing the seed through another cycle of growth, before shifting, the dappled shadows rippling around him, and pinning Hiei with a cool gold gaze.
“If you’re looking for a fight, imiko, you’ve come to the wrong place.” Kurama’s tone was sly, almost unassuming, the cadence familiar. But it wasn’t his--the voice was deeper, the veiled threat more imminent. His body language was no more welcoming; Hiei was used to Kurama’s willingness to attune himself to Hiei’s presence, a series of infinitely small movements and adjustments to welcome Hiei into his space. None were present now--Kurama was still coiled in his original position, as if Hiei was inconsequential--or as if he wasn’t , and Kurama was getting ready to strike.
Hiei, about to step closer, hesitated, his satisfaction at his partner’s transformation sharpening to wariness.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, falling back on casual disdain to mask his unease, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Kurama blinked slowly, releasing Hiei from that strange held gaze, his eyes flickering over Hiei’s bloody arm, only half bandaged. “Then why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Hiei cocked his head to one side, as if studying Kurama and finding him wanting. “How did you figure out a way back into your original form?”
Kurama smiled in satisfaction, but didn’t reply.
As the silence grew thick between them, Hiei shifted his stance, his own gaze slid to Kurama’s flickering ears. Interesting. He always thought that Kurama just liked the sound of his own voice. If anything, he expected Youko Kurama to be worse in this respect. It appeared that he mistook openness for arrogance.
“Very well. Not that it particularly matters, as long as you can access it for your fight.You know as well as I do that the rules for the finals mean that we can’t show up short two fighters.”
“I’m aware of our situation, imiko.” The youko’s gaze didn’t falter, even though Hiei knew that Kurama ought to have some kind of reaction to Genkai’s death, no matter how callously Hiei couched it. Now would be the opportunity for him to mildly scold Hiei, if anything. Hiei always considered Kurama’s human upbringing to have softened his heart far too dangerously--but he was used to Kurama’s softness, relied on it at times, even. It was...unsettling, for Kurama to have no reaction at all, when they both knew Toguro crossed a line in killing Genkai before her time.
“You’ve never called me that before,” said Hiei, frowning. “Does your memory go when you’re in that form?”
“Oh, I know your name,” said Youko Kurama, revealing his fangs when his lips split back in a grin. Hiei fought back the urge to bare his own fangs in response. “But I didn’t think it was polite to use it, since you and I aren’t acquainted.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not exactly your Kurama.” Again that sly note. Hiei willed himself not to flinch, not for an insinuation over nothing . “When I return to myself, the years I spent as a human are rather…veiled, if you will. Present, but shadowy. It’s a little disorienting, if I allow myself to think of it.”
Disorienting was the word Hiei would use to describe actually standing in Youko Kurama’s presence. As Shuuichi Minamino, Kurama had mastered the art of moving soundlessly, of standing so still that one forgot his presence. Remarkable, considering his vivid coloring, though not incongruent with Hiei’s understanding of Kurama and his desire to observe his surroundings unnoticed. Youko Kurama affected a similar stillness, but not quite as complete. It wasn’t only his tail that twitched but his ears, constantly shifting. Hiei’s fingers itched toward his sword; it was impossible to tell if the youko was preparing for an attack or if the minimal shifts were involuntary.
“That could be unlucky for us,” commented Hiei, refusing to allow the youko’s smile to get to him. “Do you at least know the difference between your allies and your enemies?”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. Some feelings transcend memory.”
Hiei knew that; what he didn’t know was the source of the hatred that colored the youko’s voice, even as his smile never faltered. He felt their surroundings shift with that hatred, everything green growing sharp and pointed. It was...troubling, how all encompassing and completely the forest bristled with him. He had known Kurama’s abilities extended into his surroundings, but Hiei had been used to a Kurama hemmed in by the limitations of a human city. Here, alone with the youko, he could feel how the forest roiled with Kurama’s rage, how ready it was to burst forth and seek and draw blood.
All very well, as long as it wasn’t directed at him.
“Works for me. Are you here for good?” The thought unsettled him more than he liked. This was Kurama’s true form, wasn’t it? The unfiltered demon, untouched by human weakness? There was no reason not to prefer him.
The youko frowned. His tail twitched, bristling, and settled again. “Unfortunately, no. I have enough time to kill an enemy, certainly. But any longer, I might even try my luck at the barrier, even knowing it wouldn’t let me through.”
“But you won’t.”
“Oh no, I can’t, ” demurred the youko. He blinked again, and Hiei forced himself to look away from those eyes, to not be entranced, to not be enticed closer than was safe. “But the thought is there. Weren’t you the same? Didn’t you also want to unpick the seams of this world and see what spills out?”
Hiei could feel his breath coming faster, everything in him braced for a fight, even though Youko Kurama hasn’t moved. There wasn’t any reason to retreat, no danger that couldn’t be faced, not with the dragon nearly mastered…
But no, he was thinking about this wrong. He didn’t want to flee. He wanted to charge forward, grab a fistful of the youko’s tunic and tear it off and keep tearing, ripping away the silver fur and skin until the human Kurama blinked up at him with those stupid green eyes and demanded to know what Hiei was doing.
Hiei resisted, against the screaming of his own instincts. Lessons that Kurama helped to teach him, ironically enough, of patience. He would be the first to admit that he is not the most enthusiastic of allies, but once he picked a side, he stuck with it. Kurama might be more vicious than Kuwabara and Yusuke want to believe, but he was the same. Youko Kurama wasn’t to be trusted. Not like them.
“Don’t be absurd. Are you just going to keep speaking nonsense at me?” Hiei demanded.
Youko Kurama showed a sliver of a smile, teeth gleaming. “Already tired of my company? I’m surprised. I was under the impression that you’ve wanted to see me for a long time.”
“I don’t care,” lied Hiei. “We need your strength, not your opinions. You sound far less ridiculous as a sentimental human.”
Youko Kurama’s eyes glittered like ice, ears starting to flatten back against his skull, disappearing behind his hair. “Careful, imiko. You still don’t know how to control the power you need. I had this body a thousand years before I lost it--I only needed a little time to remember how to use it effectively.”
Then Youko Kurama was in front of him, and all of Hiei’s famed speed was useless as he tried to move and found himself immobile. Looking down, he saw that roots had torn out of the ground to entangle his legs, binding them tightly with strands of grass, the blades pressing sharp against his skin. Hiei went for his sword, but Youko Kurama simply snatched at Hiei’s summoning arm and yanked it up high above his head, hard enough that his eyes watered. His other hand pressed his claws against Hiei’s throat, threatening to pierce the skin, cut to the veins.
“You certainly are hard on yourself, imiko.” Youko Kurama studied Hiei’s charred, bloody limb with interest, pressing a clawed thumb to the base of Hiei’s palm, forcing his fingers to uncurl from their fist and splay wide. Then the fingers of his other hand flexed around Hiei’s throat, and he was pulled up to face Youko Kurama again. The bastard was smirking.
“But not for nothing. You’re getting closer.”
Anyone else had done such a thing to Hiei, he would swear that they would be dead. He would be channeling fire through his palms, twisting to reach his sword. But no. Because it was Kurama, he let himself be dangled like some youngling. How could his drive desert him, his thirst to fight and measure himself against others? All absent just because it was Kurama who gripped him so tightly? Now, his only instinct was to survive, and wait. To avoid looking Youko Kurama right in the eyes, no matter how determined he was to search for green to bloom behind the gold.
He could never tell Kurama; the damn fox already enjoyed teasing Hiei far too much--no point in giving him an actual reason.
“Enough of this,” said Hiei calmly, painfully aware that his words did nothing to ease his quickened pulse. “As provoking as you are, we really can’t spare the time.”
“We can’t?” asked Youko Kurama lightly, leaning in closer, giving Hiei the strange expectation that Youko Kurama intended to kiss him.
“No,” said Hiei, his throat tightening as the other demon’s claws traced a path over his throat that might have been a caress as much as a threat; he couldn’t tell anymore. “You were mistaken about me. I won’t fight my own allies when there’s such a greater target at stake. And, usually, neither do you.”
Youko Kurama's grin widened, like some ghastly mask.
“Very bold, to try to hold me to those words.” But then, he abruptly released Hiei and stepped away, uncaring if he stumbled or fell. “However, my time is nearly up. Too bad. A taste of what you’re capable of would’ve been diverting.”
He ought to be pleased to have the former king of bandits consider him a worthy opponent. But, pathetically, Hiei was only relieved. The real Kurama would soon be back, and he would be rid of this infuriating creature.
“You have a very alarming tendency to play with your food,” spat Hiei, glaring up at Youko Kurama. “You might want to break that habit before tomorrow.”
(And definitely not...do whatever he almost did with Hiei. He really hoped the youko wouldn’t try that in the arena.)
The youko smirked, even as his form shimmered and mist started to curl up around his body.
“Oh, I don’t care to give my enemies any chances,” he said carelessly, as the mist obscured him entirely. “I can promise you that, Hiei.”
The warmth in Hiei’s name was already right, back in Shuuichi Minamino’s normal tone, and when the mist dissipated his partner was standing before him again.
“Interesting. I wasn’t expecting that,” Kurama murmured. He was frowning, contemplative, usually an expression that irritated Hiei as much as it interested him, when Kurama held back and reviewed possibilities rather than acting decisively.
Hiei had never been so glad to see it before.
“What exactly did you expect? How were you able to transform again in the first place?”
“Suzuka,” said Kurama immediately. “He wishes to see Toguro defeated as we do, and offered me the essence of the Fruit of Past Life.” He gestured to a small bottle nestled at the foot of the tree the youko had been meditating, that Hiei had missed during their confrontation. “Highly experimental, though I haven’t felt any side effects. Uraurashima used it as a vapor for his Idunn Box; Suzuka thought that the liquid form might be more potent, though the effect doesn’t seem to last longer than fifteen minutes.”
“You don’t expect to draw your fight out, do you?” Now that the youko was gone, Hiei found it easy to be irritated with Kurama again.
Kurama shook his head, smiling faintly, familiar with the source of Hiei’s irritation. “No. But the timing does mean I have to be particularly efficient. And I can’t practice too much, without fear of not having enough left.”
“Your old self seems to have no trouble reacting quickly,” said Hiei, testing the waters, and rewarded by how Kurama winced, and wouldn’t look at him. It both gratified and troubled him in turn.
“Even in my old life, I preferred to wait and plan. However, I was powerful enough that I knew I could strike immediately. And at times, I was arrogant enough to taunt others with my strength. I’m sorry, Hiei, that you had to experience that.”
Now Kurama met his eyes, and his expression wasn’t dangerous or imperious but ashamed . Even more irritating. Kurama remembered Makai perfectly well, and how demons might demonstrate their strength and power against each other; he ought to know that it would take more than a little display like that to rattle Hiei.
“Don’t apologize,” said Hiei dismissively. “He didn’t even scratch me.”
“I didn’t scratch you,” Kurama corrected quietly. Guiltily.
“Exactly.” Hiei tilted up his chin, baring his throat to Kurama so that he could see the lack of marks himself. “It hardly matters. It’s clear that your current self wasn’t exactly present.”
“But I was,” insisted Kurama. He knotted a hand in his hair and took a deep, calming breath. “‘Youko Kurama is not a separate entity. When I revert back to my original form, I also fall back on my reactions and impulses from when I was only Youko Kurama Like the last sixteen years never happened. It’s not like I’m ignoring my current judgment: it’s like those controls don’t even exist. It is truly a reversal. As if...you were returned to your pre-Jagan state. Do you understand?”
Hiei gave a curt nod, and Kurama continued, sliding into his more familiar teaching tone, “You would have your old youki and the benefits, but the world of choices and information that the Jagan allows you to access now would be gone. It’s only when I become Shuuichi Minamino again that I can even recognize that those choices were missing.”
And if there was one thing Kurama hated, it was a lack of choices.
“Do you think it would be possible to regain your old form without those controls being taken away?” Hiei found himself asking.
“In time for the finals? No.” A pained smile tugged up the corners of Kurama’s mouth. “Now...if we survive the tournament? Perhaps. I never even considered the possibility, especially not with my current life. But...I forgot how incredible it felt to hold that kind of power.”
Hiei didn’t disagree.
“We could use it,” he said simply. “If that’s all that you’re doing, I’m going to finish taming this dragon.”
“Of course. I need to get back to my tests as well. But before I do...tell me." Kurama met Hiei’s eyes properly this time, calm and green again. Back to normal. "What was your impression?”
Beautiful. Frightening. Hiei reveled in his presence and wanted him gone. He infinitely preferred this version of Kurama. How rare for Kurama to ask this kind of question of Hiei. He must have been truly unsettled by what he felt and witnessed.
“He’ll do,” said Hiei dismissively. “But I’m not going to ask him to hang around. So you better win quickly this time.”
A smile touched Kurama’s lips, quickly gone, though the relief in his eyes lingered.
“I don’t intend to,” he replied.