[Yu Yu Hakusho] drabble and ficlets - R for the second one

[darlingfox]

I've scribbled a few short (and strange) things when I needed to think something else than real life. As always, feel free to nitpick.

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho © Yoshihiro Togashi

oOo

As a Youko, he was used to the words of praise and want. As a Youko, he expected and demanded them for he was a Youko, a haughty creature of blood and beauty.

As a human, he is used to the words of love and devotion. As a human, he is surprised and puzzled to hear them for he is a human, a mere cage of flesh and bones.

As Kurama, he will not get any of those words. As Kurama, he will not bother to wait for them for he is Kurama, a willing slave of fire and shadows.

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oOo

This is it, blood seeping through his clothes and red hot drops dribbling down his chin and lips and it tastes like fire.

Slashing through flesh, weak and soft and yielding under his sharp sword, a blade of darkness, blood like acid on him and maybe it is, burning and not hot enough, never enough, not even near the flames inside. It is a rush, his living heart drumming and pulse beating, a primal tune, a carnal predatory sound, he can hear it, always, always hear it. This is it, this is wilderness, this is here and real and this is freedom.

Agony on faces and he doesn’t care and he hears his own hoarse laughter and a higher one, a pretty pretty voice echoing him. Dance and sever and kill and maim and corpses around him, he can see them, smell their rotting flesh and oh how he enjoys it. Take a life, slaughter, tear and destroy and he can feel their pain and it is this, this is it, he loves it, he is born to do it.

Hot yet cold and he is flying, faster and faster and faster and nothing can stop him, not yet, not yet when they are still standing. Ragged breathing and a cut throat, tearing apart and the coppery smell and taste and he is laughing again, throwing his head back in wild and raw abandon.

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oOo

“You’re here,” Kurama mutters drowsily, pushing the heavy blanket aside and sitting up. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” It’s hard to tell if Hiei’s angry or not, and Kurama blinks and tries to distinguish him from the darkness. Finally his lousy human eyes see a lighter shade of dark where Hiei’s face supposedly is. Supposedly, because it’s considerably higher than the last time they talked.

“You have grown.”

A quiet rustle of cloth and Kurama gets an impression of a shrug. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“Well…” Kurama hesitates because he isn’t sure, has never been. “I always thought you were an adult when we met.”

“I was,” Hiei says and sits on the bed without an invitation, not that he’d ever waited for or needed one. “But the Koorime blood was strong enough to subdue the other until recently.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Yukina is still as petite as ever, after all. Kurama repeats his earlier words, “You’re here. I presumed you’d eventually find a way to get out of this.”

Hiei flashes a smile and suddenly Kurama’s heart is fluttering in his chest. “I did. But then I asked myself what I wanted.”

“And?” Kurama holds his breath. He shouldn’t hope for this, every fibre of his wild and free youko being should be shouting protests, but he does and it doesn’t.

“It’s been three years, Kurama.” Hiei’s voice is serious and when his red, red eyes look at Kurama, the latter feels like he’s scrutinized under a microscope. “What do you want?”

“I never thought I would want… this.” Kurama waves his hands around them in a desperate attempt to describe something he can’t. Luckily, Hiei understands and nods. “I’m not even sure what this is.”

“I could show you,” Hiei offers unexpectedly. “At last a part of it.”

The Jagan, Kurama realizes immediately and ponders for a few seconds. “Show me.”

A faint glow illuminates Hiei’s features and Kurama couldn’t turn his eyes away even if his life would depend on it because so much has changed in three years.

“You’ve cut your hair,” Hiei notes and reaches out to brush a dishevelled lock behind Kurama’s ear.

“Hiei…” Kurama sighs and captures the warm hand, pressing it against his cheek. “I don’t need to see.”

“You will. It’s actually quite pretty.”

And it is when Kurama looks it through Hiei’s Eye. He doesn’t know what there was before but now they are surrounded by colours, shimmering threads twisting and moving around them and tying them together.

“It’s beautiful,” Kurama breathes, and then Hiei closes the Jagan and it’s gone. “I should be terrified of it.”

“Are you?”

“No.” Kurama tilts his head and marvels the simple truth. “I don’t think I could be even if I tried.”

This is the second time Kurama hears Hiei’s laughter and he barely recalls the first. He’d been a bit too preoccupied to pay attention to it then and now he’s determined to memorise it. “I know the feeling.”

He does, and it finally hits Kurama that he isn’t the only one who’s trapped. Somehow that makes it both better and worse. “Are you sure?”

Of what, he doesn’t need to elaborate. “I’ve had time to think and…” Another shrug. “I’m here. The rest is up to you.”

A choked laughter escapes Kurama’s lips and he moves over, making room on the bed and lifting the blanket. “Well then, perhaps we should… talk of what we’ll do. Come here.”

Come to me.

Come home.

oOo

Ha, I never thought I'd manage to include two screaming clichés in such a short ficlet. Maybe I should try with three next. *ponders*