Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

All's Well	By : Artemick Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3625 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho or its characters and make nothing off this story.

Chapter List
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The brat prince tapped the stamped papers into a neat stack. He handed it to the ogre. “Get these in a case for Mr. Minamino’s return.”

Kurama stood, hands ready at his sides, a habit he’d never lose. He watched the ogre go and complimented Koenma. “Elegant hospitality.”

Unsure if this was sarcasm, Koenma fixed his eyes on the smaller man. But Kurama was calm, obedient.

The prince folded his hands, suddenly still. “Before you leave, I have to ask a favor of you.”

“Thank you. I’ll call it a first assignment.”

“You don’t have to do anything for it. In fact, you must not do anything.”

Koenma seemed to be on knife’s edge, Kurama noticed, and set about to placate him.

“Doubt the capacity and restraint of your men, but never of me.” Kurama smiled, his posture harmless and resilient, all charming assurance. “I do whatever is necessary and appropriate. Always.”

“I don’t doubt your aptitude.”

“This deal of ours will only strengthen your organization. I promise that.”

“Your judgment concerns me. The finality of your decisions. You overcommit.”

“I kill.” Kurama translated.

“Even at the price of your life. And yes, there’s a lot of death around you.”

“I understand that most deals with my kind are time bombs, waiting for us to rationalize a massacre. But I am human and I will represent you appropriately. I will act in your best interests. I promise, even as a fox I can be professional.”

Koenma winced. His brow drew close, as though he were stricken with regret. He hunched over, shuffling some files on the far corner of the desk to avoid Kurama’s eyes. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I don’t. Ever. Your clemency has harnessed all my loyalty.”

There was a silence.

The bureaucrat and the fox had talked pleasantries, threats, prices, and niceties. That one sentence of honesty lay like a bare copper coin, plain and recognizable, simple. Itself.

“Don’t swear.”

“I’ve already sworn — in triplicate carbon.”

It wrenched a laugh out of the prince. “Kurama. You make a good human. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I have to. It was a promise made long ago, when I did not know you or your circumstance.”

Kurama’s eyes flickered, his mind circling through potential cross acquaintances – someone they might both know. There were several demons he’d worked with who had died since. No one he wanted to see particularly. None close enough for a prince's promise.

Koenma asked, “You know the SDF?”

Kurama heard the office door open behind him.

“Prince.” A man came in, slamming the door. He threw a scornful half bow; a soldier’s casual arrogance. “You’ve drawn me out of the field for what?”

Koenma frowned, clasping his hands together. “I asked you to wait outside.”

Kurama felt for the chair behind him and moved until it was between them.

It was a far off memory, but parts were still bright, for he had gone over them countless times in debilitating guilt.

The man’s voice would echo, as it did now, as the man argued with Koenma. Endless syllables, meaning nothing but apathy and dominance.

‘How could I find you, Yoko, in your weakness, in your cowardice? I caught a child of your team. Then another. Then another. I broke the links of your chain one by one. Each was tortured to death, or suicide. All because of what you involved them in. We had no choice. Here is the last.’

And he had Risa brought forward, her brown curls drawn in a braid to the side, the violet horn that grew twisting from her forehead was shattered off. She was crying blood and her dazed eyes did not see him, but she smiled in her silent way. Her quiet manner at Yoko’s right hand, that quirk of her lips, all used to calm him. Her expression used to say, ‘Yes, the situation is absurd, the stupidity of our allies is ludicrous, and in this chaos we strike. Action is life and gain.’ She was everything on the team. Not a tortured child - a strong woman and his best friend.

Yoko found he was shaking his head, no no no NO –

‘Say goodbye…’ The officer’s hand opened behind her head. A blue halo engulfed her.

Yoko wailed, knowing that her skull was fractured and she’d die in minutes anyway – and he did not even have the strength to crawl to her. ‘Please,’ his voice cracked, small. ‘No, no, please no. No.’

He said it to Fate.

‘Yo…ko.’ She whispered.

The fox felt a jolt of energy, a flash of lightning before thunder clouded his ears with thudding blood.

She had sent him her life. Four minutes of life. Thick splendid ki like a webbed net.

Braced with her energy, Yoko ran.

Now, in the fine Spirit World office, the SDF soldier chattered on and on. Kurama caught Koenma’s eye and found himself begging again, a silent no in this same soldier’s presence. No, no. Please, no.

“Shun-jun! Take a breath and focus.” Koenma was petulant at the disrespect of the officer. “Recognize this boy?”

The soldier turned to Kurama, who ducked his face out of sight with a polite bow.

“Kurama, look at him.”

Please, no.

Kurama looked up. The man saw a red haired human, local race, no aura of any relevance. Kurama saw his own death, once fled, now returned.

“What? The kid?”

“You’re always bragging on that spirit fox you almost caught – “

“Please – “ Kurama’s voice was deep with tears and cold horror. The man heard and looked to him in odd recognition.

“I did catch him.”

“And he escaped into Nigenkai. Became human. This is he. Yoko Kurama.”

In the silence, Kurama shook himself into a graceful pose and gave a short bow and a trembling but exquisite smile. “How interesting to meet you, again.”

Kurama extended his hand, but it shook so terribly, he pulled it back.

The officer was too shocked to register the gesture. “Yoko. Silver Yoko?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s weak – sorry kid, but I mean, that’s just sad.”

“He’s human.” Koenma stood. “Kurama, I’m sorry to do this to you. But we respect your intellect too much to trust your fealty."

"Sir – "

"Your reputation and past life mean nothing in Shuichi’s dimension…but this is our world, that of law, trial and consequence. A world of permanence, old record and long memory.”

Kurama mouthed the word, No.

The young prince cleared his throat. “Someday, I will order you to do something you disagree with, and you’ll think about going back on your word. If you think of punishing my cruelty with treachery, know this is who you will meet. Also know that this is the team you chose and this is a man you will work alongside. You will meet many of your hunters, and those that hate you and similar criminals, and you must keep your place before them. If you meet your old comrades, and you will, you must show them as little mercy as you wish to show this man – “

“As little as I, as we, were shown. I understand,” Kurama spat. His face twisted with a bizarre, soft smile.

“And Shun-jun, as I promised you, when we found him, you get five minutes.”

“All I need,” Shun-jun said. Kurama stumbled backwards.

“No! You’ll use that to work out your differences. No one breaks the skin. No bruises. In fact, nothing and nobody within five feet of each other.” Koenma pointed to them one at a time. “And when I come back, everything I own better be here and intact. Even the shiny things, Kurama.”

Koenma backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Kurama’s eyes followed the prince as he left, then darted to the soldier’s face.

Shun-jun looked to be about 40, though he was probably suspended from aging in this timeless dimension. He had a froth of sky blue hair that made him look like a punk child, a rebel. His ears were pierced with heavy gold earrings. Kurama recognized them as 40^th century south coastal Makai – a time of great war and plunder. No doubt the man had ripped them from a corpse.

The officer came close as the door shut. “You’re…human. You haven’t got an ounce of demon energy.”

Kurama gave a slow shrug, copied straight of the streets of 21^st century human Japan. “I am human. Minus the odd memory.”

“Yeah. Yes. You seem like him.” Shun-jun’s face turned ugly. “Manipulative. Alone.”

“I was not alone then and I am not alone now.”

“Really? Who do you love this time?”

“How could you. How could you, when…all we did was lift a few trinkets from rich manors.” Risa’s broken horn and bloody cheeks. Kurama shrieked, “That’s not worth such massacre!”

“Don’t scream, baby. I mean, you’re upset over that? It was years ago, and they all had your protection.” He drew close. “Imagine what we’ve done since then.”

Kurama ignored the man’s nearness, but at the same time inventoried the people he’d left. He’d heard from none.

“Let me give you an example,” Shun-jun breathed. “Tomorrow, I’m going down to Katorreck settlement to shake up hear-say on the psychic waves we’ve felt in the North. You know the song we sing. Find someone with a bit of leadership. Fuck up that pretty, sad strong demon. Shred his ears. Crop his tail. Smash his skull until his tongue edges out to lick my shoe. Again and again.” His finger darted out to flick Kurama’s head lightly. He laughed at the boy’s recoil. “Woof woof, foxes’ barking. I love it. Sooner or later someone in the crowd stops enjoying themselves enough to claim the pathetic little babe. Tells me what I want. Then we move on. Again and again.”

“Four minutes,” Kurama said.

“I don’t need four minutes. I have eternity. Yours. I doubt that contract has an expiration.”

“No one exists in the Makai, not to me, not any longer.” Let them be safe.

“Then you don’t mind if I take some innocent fox breed and spear it on my cock.”

Kurama turned sharply and covered his mouth. He moved to the far side of the desk and supported himself with a hand.

“Maybe you haven’t the guts to take clearance on this job. You might faint at the carnage.”

“It’s your foul stench that nauseates me. Your rotting carcass of a soul -”

“It’s you demons that do all the sweating. I swear to you, you have two places in my mind. Both of them involve your impalement and screams.”

“That is cruel,” Kurama said hollowly.

“I get the chance, I finish what I started.”

Kurama’s smile was simple. For everyone who died, you will pay. In Kurama’s eyes, his feelings were clearly written: he was mortally afraid, suicidally angry, and as alone as if he were already cut up and dead with the rest of them.

“Two minutes,” Kurama said, checking his watch.

The man simply stared, the shock and bravado wearing thin. He was able to see the oddness of it now: the fugitive found casually seated in the executive’s office, a finger of brandy melting in ice on the desk near his hand. “How did you get away? How could you have? I pulled your fur out from under my nails. We had you.”

“You were never even close,” Kurama scoffed. Then, in a pang of loyalty, he added, “Risa saved my life. You don’t know her name. You wouldn’t. Or the old magic. It would be like explaining quantum mechanics to a mayfly.”

“I crushed you. And you just vanished. We all thought it was suicide.”

“You should consider that yourself.”

“Oh, don’t make me tell the boss on you.”

Kurama was silent. It didn’t amuse him to answer.

The man paced before him like an animal. “Tell me.”

Kurama reached out for the old, warm brandy. He took a sip of his drink, waiting until the man started shouting, repeating the order.

“Tell me how!”

“Excuse me. Did you want me to answer or not?”

“Go.”

Kurama looked into the glass. “One of my team died helping me escape. She died. That woman was closer to my heart than blood, they all were!”

Kurama flung the cup down, shattering it. Yoko was rising so strong in him that he became the one more likely to break the truce. That feral anger saw no consequence, only joy in completion of will. Now, his will was to eliminate that memory, to burn bones instead of incense over his comrades’ grave.

“I’d do it again.”

“I know you would,” Kurama said, placing a finger over his lip. He ordered himself to stop talking.

Or, a little voice said, if the man would come closer, we could snag one of those gold earrings and rip it out. That would make us feel a lot better. Those earrings aren’t Koenma’s; he won’t mind if we take them. He doesn't like the man either.

Despite the knowledge that the prince certainly would mind and the act would be clearly defiant, Kurama smiled and said, “I think we’re letting the past dictate our behavior. Let’s try again.”

But Shun-jun did not get his age or position by ignoring changes in his opponent, and he stepped back neatly as Kurama rose.

Kurama offered his hand.

“I’ve been recruited by this office. We’re working for the same side now. Come here, you aren’t afraid of me?” He lifted his hand.

“I’m not afraid of you, pet. I’m familiar. I remember that fur, that sweet broken body,” Shun-jun stepped closer. Kurama saw carnage in his eyes, remembering the grip he had behind the fox’s skull, hands full of silver hair, jamming Yoko’s head into the stone, kneeling on his spine. “I remember and someday I’ll have it again. Unless you’re willing to lie down without help.”

Kurama’s hand remained, open. “I’m here to work.”

*

Koenma interrupted early, hearing the scream. “Hey! Play nice, you hooligan rejects -”

Shun-jun wheeled around, grasping the side of his head. The fox shrugged and tossed a heavy article on Koenma’s desk.

Koenma stormed up to them, but was unwilling to actually stand between them. “Captain, five feet apart, back off. And Kurama, I said don’t touch anything.”

“Instinct, sir,” the fox said.

Shun-jun took his hand off his ear, turning enough that the prince could see the slick blood trail down his neck and smeared across his palm. “Your little bitch – “

Koenma held up a hand. “Quiet. Kurama?”

“My apologies. It caught on my sleeve.” The fox turned a gentle smile on Shun-jun, almost flirtatious. “You will forgive me, won’t you?”

Shun-jun let out a breath like a cough.

There was a crackling of energy, suddenly unmasked; Koenma could felt it shock his chest like a peal thunder. In two instances as close as frames of film, Shun-jun’s hand was drawn back and flung out to his arm’s extent, striking Kurama invisibly. The only hint was the sound and the way Kurama was thrown, head snapping down, hair flung over his face as he crashed backward into the chair behind him.

“Gentlemen, delinquents.” Koenma chided. “I said to work it out.” He shoved a mission file into the captain’s chest. “Five minutes are now up, and any further altercation will be punished. Severely. You hear? As if you assaulted one of your own men.”

“Yes sir,” Shun-jun said, sidling to the wall. He took out the mission papers and began to skim.

“Kurama.”

The boy scraped his hair off his face. His features were stretched, eyes fixed on the man.

He had underestimated Shun-jun, Koenma thought. Many did. But then, he and Kurama were the same in that way. Both were petite and ruthless, subtle and intelligent. Though of course, there was no competing with a fox. Shun-jun Tsana was only human, a centuries old recruit, but still human at the base. There was ego in that. Kurama could run when he had to, could walk away and forget. Shun-jun had held on to things he should have released.

But a promise must be kept.

Koenma went to his desk, eyeing the fox, who slipped as he tried to stand. He’d know better now.

“Kurama, you will be on this mission as a civilian advisor.”

The boy’s wide eyes finally turned back to the prince.

“Wait – “ Shun-jun flipped to the roster, registered the fox’s civilian name at the bottom, and slapped the whole file on his thigh. “Not my mission. Are you trying to sabotage us? He’s not reliable.”

“You’re joking,” Kurama said.

“I’m not. Kurama, you may visit home for two days to pack what you need and make your excuses. You will put all your weapons, your plants, in a separate package that will be held by the captain, to ensure that you do not sabotage the mission or,” he looked up. “Hmm. What’s sensitive phrasing for: kill everyone and run?”

“Koenma!” Kurama growled, eyes wide. “He’ll kill me.”

“He will not.” Koenma gave the human a stern glance. “Is that understood?”

“Won’t harm a hair on his fluffy tail.” The captain chuckled.

Kurama repeated, “He killed hundreds of foxes – “

“The way he tells it, he killed you.” Koenma scoffed. “Don’t believe a thing he says. Shun's a liar.”

“I believe what I saw.” Kurama said, voice a sharp patter like hail on tin.

“Come on,” the captain purred, looking at the mission. “Weather’s looking brisk, but we’ll have a good time.”

“Koenma, this is inadvisable.”

“All those vows you made, so that you could stay in the human world, with a merged soul, with your family,” Koenma said, prowling behind his desk. “You signed a contract. You either obey, or you suffer the consequences. And now, the man who nearly caught you knows your face. Play nice.”

Kurama stared at Shun-jun like an animal in headlights, then back to the prince.

Koenma gestured at the door.

There was a long moment of silence, the human watching the fox watching the spirit.

Kurama grabbed his coat. “I’ll do my job.”

He stalked out.

Shun-jun tried to help him, grabbing his elbow like an escort. The boy shook free and shoved him; Shun-jun thudded back against the wall, chuckling, and began to follow.

“Captain Tsana!” Koenma called.

Shun-jun’s hand flicked out, making some kind of grab at the boy’s ass. Kurama spun back, trying to strike him. But Shun-jun caught his arm easily and, pulling him off balance, twisted his wrist back, driving him into the doorframe.

“Let him go,” Koenma warned.

“Mm, mm, mm.” Shun-jun drew his hand back with the flourish of a gangster. “Sorry, sir.”

He made a kiss noise as the boy left, but was all business when he came up to the desk.

Dealing with fighters disturbed Koenma. The red blood was still shining, the man’s ear torn, and yet it was as if he’d forgotten it. The captain showed no recognition, no distraction. He was grinning, unscathed and proud.

Koenma sighed. He gestured at the folder. “That’s a routine assignment. That fox. He needs to be back here, alive and ready to be sent out to capture his partner within the week.”

“Understood. Just get his feet wet?”

Koenma relaxed, leaning back. “Exactly. None of this back and forth. I’ll have a talk with him too. When you go out, you’re the captain, he’s a civilian consultant on the local color. Captain, subordinate.”

“I give the orders, he takes them.”

“Right, as if you had no history together. That’s how I want it. Clean.”

“Understood.” Shun-jun snapped to attention. “Just another fox.”

“Exactly. Thank you in advance for your excellent work.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Great. Get out.”

“Sir.”

The man left, whistling.Shun-jun was always more obedient when he was getting a new position. He was easily bored and obnoxious once he had a routine and Koenma found himself swapping the man around too often. But it made him experienced. It was worth it. In a way.

Koenma sighed, ready to order lunch and read Kurama’s briefing on the fire demon.

He sat and jotted a note to have the door frame replaced and varnished, it occurred to him that Shun-jun had thrown Kurama about as if the boy was nothing. Kurama was at a fraction of his past strength. His brilliant record might suggest a potential that far outstripped Shun-jun, Urameshi, anyone. But now, the fox was weak. So weak that the deal Koenma made might easily end in Kurama’s death and far sooner than expected. After all, Spirit World had not even seen him fight once yet, as a human. Perhaps he couldn’t.

The object Kurama had been toying with caught his eye – the thing Kurama had tossed onto his desk. It was still in the center, having rolled across the fox’s contract in a dotted red line. He picked it up, disgusted; it was Shun-jun’s thick gold hoop earring, sporting a chunk of gore-seeping ear.

“Oh yes,” Koenma seethed, turning it in the light. “This is going to end well.”
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