Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Compromised	By : Dementian Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kurama/Kuwabara Views: 2033 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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   There was a pounding in Kurama’s brain, a dull and aching drum that filled him from head to toe with its rhythm. His mouth burned, his throat felt like it was on fire, and his tongue was thick with a cottony texture. Light was above him, someone was moving around him, but Kurama could not for the life of him seem to sit up and open his eyes. He tried, several times, to move his feet and his hands, but it was as if he was strapped down-
   A fiery mind numbing pain in his mouth-
   A tube being forced down his throat-
   A vine, wrapping tight around his neck-
   A doctor pressing a button-
   Kazuma screaming his name, forswearing-
   Kurama’s eyes snapped open.
   He was strapped to a bed in a white and empty room, and a woman in a doctor’s coat with short brown hair was smiling at him. She wore square glasses and had her hair back in a miniature pony tail. She was sitting next to him in a visitor’s chair, a plastic clip board upon her lap, and her legs were crossed; she was wearing a black skirt, and pantyhose... smart, conservative shoes with a short wedge and plenty of arch support.
   Kurama looked around, taking in the high window beside him through which light poured in; a courtyard lay beyond, with a fountain in the middle; beyond that forest. He took in the door to his room, which was locked and made of steel; it had one very small window upon it which seemed to be made of incredibly thick glass. Across from his bed was a steel wardrobe as well a desk from where the doctor had retrieved her chair.
   Besides that, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
   “.... Where am I?” Kurama managed to ask; his voice was hoarse and damaged from lye. His head ached.

   “You’re in Matsuzawa Hospital,” the doctor said. “Ward C, a high security area. Room two hundred, the very last room on a long hall that faces East.” She gestured to the window; she had red manicured nails. “It is Thursday, January fifteenth, at eleven o’ eight in the morning.”
   The word ‘Mastuzawa’ made Kurama’s blood run cold; Matsuzawa was a psychiatric hospital in Mushiori City... and was known for housing criminally insane patients. If he was in Ward C, then he was no doubt on the same hall as some of those rumored inmates.
   He had been sent to a psychiatric ward.
Kurama looked down at his straps, at his pale lithe limbs and all the bruises that were upon them. Where had he obtained such bruises? It looked like he’d been aggressively manhandled. Something likewise did not feel right about his head, but Kurama couldn’t figure it out. It was as if his head was lighter, a feeling that made no sense to him. He turned his head left and right, trying to figure out the root of the sensation, only to realize that his long hair had been hacked off.
   Kurama’s eyes widened, feeling the stiff locks aside his skull and ears. He stared at the doctor now in fear, wondering what her purpose was and how long she had been sitting here, watching him.
   “Who...?”
   “Am I?” she finished, offering him a cheery smile that did not seem forced or fake. “I am Doctor Tomoe Gozen. You can call me Tomoe. I am in charge of Ward C patients, and I am your psychiatrist.” She tilted her head to the side. “How are you feeling today?”
   Kurama felt terrified, but he knew that if he said as much to her, she would take it to offense or as a sign of his own weakness. He was torn. Part of him wanted to play his cards incredibly carefully, and to get out of the hospital and away from these straps. The other half of him wanted to lay in this bed forever, to rot into the mattress and never see the light of day again, to tell Tomoe every disgusting truth about his life, till she declared him criminally insane and put him in a padded cell - a fitting punishment for his heinous crimes.
   What was the point of keeping up appearances anymore? After all, Shiori was dead.
   Kurama’s stomach clenched.
   He realized he’d gone a full minute without response.
   “I don’t know,” he said.
   “Are you feeling awake?” Tomoe offered. “Alert? Or are you still groggy? They had you on some pretty powerful juice when you got here.” She said it in such a way as if they were friends, and not patient and doctor. Kurama did not know what to make of her.
   He had no idea how he felt, on any level of the word, and his voice broke as he answered her again.
   “I don’t know,” he repeated, looking away.
   “Hmm,” she said, setting her clip board aside; Kurama realized he had a small bedside table, but it was difficult to see what with his being strapped to the bed. Tomoe reached into the breast pocket of her doctor’s coat and pulled out a small black flashlight which she clicked and shined into Kurama’s eyes. He winced, looking away. “Let me check your eyes.”
   He relented a little, staring into the blinding white light.
   “You have such an interesting eye color," she complimented him, clicking off the light. He blinked rapidly, his vision temporarily off kilt as his eyes re adjusted. When he could see well again, she was back to smiling in her chair with her clipboard in her lap.
   “You seem to be awake. But this must be quite a shock, to go to sleep in one place and wake up in another.”
   “How did I get here?” Kurama asked.
   “You were transported here by ambulance very early this morning,” Tomoe replied. “Around five, I believe. We arrived at work at the same time." She smiled again.
   “Where is Kazuma?” Kurama asked, praying that he was near, that he might be able to hear if Kurama screamed at the top of his lungs. But Tomoe just looked confused as she cocked her head.
   “Kazuma?” she repeated in question.
   So it seemed Kazuma was not here. Kurama found himself blinking back tears as he looked away towards the window.
   “No one has been to see you as of yet,” Tomoe explained gently; at this she patted his arm, perhaps wanting to comfort him. “But that’s only because I haven’t made my introduction until now, nor started my consultation. As soon as I’m finished, you can see whoever you like; but first we need to find out why you are here, and get you well.”
   “I’m not sick,” Kurama tried to say, but Tomoe made a worried noise that told him straight away she wasn’t buying his bullshit.
   “You swallowed lye,” she corrected him, and she sounded oddly impressed by the fact.
   To be fair, it was harsher than dish soap.
   “You were very sick last night," she offered. “You still have burns inside your mouth, and your voice is damaged. Does it hurt to swallow?”
   Kurama swallowed, trying to wet his tongue with saliva. He felt as if he had strep throat, each muscle contraction making his eyes water with pain. “Yes,” he whispered.
   “That will probably last for some time. But don’t worry!” she encouraged. “We have a wonderful physical therapy unit, and they have lots of exercises to try for voice repair.”
   “How long am I-“ Kurama could not finish the sentence, could not dare to ask when surely he already knew the answer; they were never letting him leave this place. His mind wandered to his shop, of the home above it, of Eikichi and their bed... of Kazuma next to him, asleep with his arm over Kurama’s stomach. He had failed to follow through with his own death and in so doing had damned himself to a life without all of it. Kurama could not decide whether to be happy at his receiving the punishment he deserved or to lament at all he had lost.
   “I’m not insane,” he managed. “I know you think that I am, but I’m not.”
   “I don’t think you’re insane,” Tomoe offered; Kurama was shocked to feel a tissue being pressed to his cheek; the wet trail of his tear wiped up by Tomoe’s hand, “I think you’re sad, scared... and you probably want to go home. But I don’t think you’re insane." She assured him.
   Kurama could not tell if she was lying or not, and it truly infuriated him when so much was on the line.
   “And tell me, doctor,” Kurama said coldly, “is that your professional opinion?”
   “It is.” Tomoe just carried on, taking no offense to his harsh and jaded tone. “Free of charge. I could make you pay a rate if that would help it to seem more official.”
   Kurama could not abide such a joke when thoughts of his bed and Kazuma’s arms were still bouncing around his head. He wept silently, his face turned away from Tomoe in the hope that she wound not see.
   “You’re not insane, Shuichi,” she said, this time softer.
   “My name is Kurama,” Kurama growled; the name Shuichi suddenly brought an anger about in him. Who was Shuichi anyway but the lost soul of a fertilized egg he’d dominated and destroyed? Who was Shuichi but a sham and a shell made to protect one frail little human from feeling pain in a world where pain was law and loss was inevitable? “Do not call me Shuichi.”
   “I won’t," she replied at once. Kurama heard a scratching sound as if she was writing something on her clipboard.

   “I suppose it would be your job to know if I am insane or not, seeing as it is your job to handle the insane.”
   “No,” Tomoe corrected him. “That is not my job.”
   “Then what is your job?” Kurama asked, rolling his head upon the pillow to glare at her. She could try to be friendly all she wanted, but Kurama knew it was a game and she was trying to play him.
   “My job is to listen.”
He snorted derisively and looked away, but she continued on. “My job is to listen, learn, and offer insight when the way feels dark.” She paused. “What is your job? What do you do for a living?”
   Kurama rolled his head to look at her, to observe her kind and warm smile... the way her manicured nails gleamed in the light overhead.
   Why not? He had nowhere else to be.
   “I sell healing herbs to demons,” he said.
   Tomoe did not flinch, nor did she look surprised in anyway. She didn’t even make to write on her clipboard.
   “Demons,” she mused. “Do they pay well?”
   “I’ve never been stiffed. Most people are afraid to cross me.”
   “I certainly would be afraid to cross someone who deals with demons.”
   “They know my reputation,” Kurama said. “They don’t give me any trouble.”
   “And what is your reputation?” Tomoe asked. Another opportunity to lie or tell the truth.
   Kurama thought of Kazuma, and how he had beaten him when Kazuma had tried to save his life. Kurama did not deserve those loving and gentle arms.
   “Heartless, unforgiving… the most dangerous of threats,” Kurama said. “I work with a team, and I am often the strategist. I control plants,” he added, just for the hell of it. What was the point of lying anymore? After lying to so many fucking people he ought to start telling the truth to someone.
   “And does your team deal with demons too?” Tomoe asked, that pleasant smile never leaving. “Can they control plants?”
   She was looking for repetitions in a hallucination. Kurama might have found it comical if this weren’t so serious.
   “All the time,” Kurama replied. “But I am the only one with that particular power.”
   “Tell me about your team. Who are they? What are their names?”
   “Urameshi Yusuke, Hiei... and Kuwabara Kazu-”
   Saying the name out loud was too much. Kurama’s voice broke; he had to look away again as his face began to contort in misery.
   “Kazuma...” She repeated the name, no doubt recalling its mention before. Hearing it made Kurama want to cry; he tried to will himself against it, but it was of no use. “You wondered if he’d been to see you. Are you friends outside of work?”
   Kurama did not answer, pressing his face sideways into the pillow in an attempt to muffle his small sobs.
   “... Are you lovers?” Tomoe asked.
   Kurama could not bear it; he turned and looked her full in the face.
   “When can I see him?” Kurama asked, “Please let see him-“
   “As soon as you’re feeling better!” she urged, and her tone was back to soothing as she smiled. “What’s the point in having a visit if you can’t even hug your boyfriend?” She gestured to the straps.
   “Let me out of these.” Kurama strained a little against them, testing their worth. They were incredibly tight, made of cloth and metal, bolted with leather straps. He could not tear through them if he tried, unlike the thin plastic ones at the hospital.
   These were true straps, made to restrain someone truly psychotic.
   “I most certainly will,” she promised him. “As a matter of fact, I aim to do so quite soon, but not today. Maybe tomorrow, depending upon if my pharmacist will answer her pager!” she said, patting her hip where a pager lay.
   “You intend to medicate me.”
   “Well, yes. I do,” Tomoe said, sounding slightly apologetic. She looked at him now frankly, her smile gone. “I do plan on trying out one or two medications, to see if one might help you. I will not hide my intentions from you, Kurama.”
   “You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”
   “You’re very perceptive," she agreed, relaxing a little in her chair with a small smile.
   “It is my job to be,” Kurama whispered.
   “Well...” Tomoe looked at her clipboard. “It says here that your job is owner of a medicinal herb shop on 8^th Street in Sariashiki, and you live above it.” She looked up again, “That’s where you swallowed the lye. Where did you find the lye?”
   “We had some in our cabinet,” Kurama mumbled.
   “That's a very powerful chemical to keep next to the coriander,” Tomoe said, once again trying for a joke. She was starting to remind him a bit of a mix between Keiko and Yusuke.
   “I had to use it the day before on the drain…”
   “The report says that you made a cup of tea, but it only had water and lye in it. You took it into the bedroom and then drank it.” She looked at him again, slightly confused. “Why didn’t you just drink it in the kitchen?”
   “... Kazuma was there,” Kurama said.
   “And Kazuma was the one who found you?” Tomoe prompted further.
   A door busting clean off its hinges, falling flat to the floor in an earth shattering crash-
   “Yes.” Kurama could not hide the pain in his voice.
   Tomoe nodded, and he heard the scratching of pen on paper.
   “What are you writing?” he asked.
   “I am writing a note to myself to get Kazuma’s phone number so I can call him and ask him a couple of questions about your behavior earlier that day along with more information about these demons you sell drugs to." She winked cheerily.
   Kurama looked away, shaking his head.
   A sudden cough tickled his throat, but as he seized in a fit a horrible burn filled his throat and he bit down at once upon his tongue.
   “Careful now.” She offered him a portable cup, one with a plastic lid and straw sticking out. A clear liquid resided within it. “Here, have a sip of this.”
   But even as she offered it to his parched lips he shrank back in alarm. If she thought he was going to sip a fucking random liquid-
   But Tomoe just laughed.
   “Oh, such a face,” she said coyly. “It’s water. See?” And with that she took a sip herself. Kurama watched, noting that the volume of the clear liquid visibly decreased; she had swallowed. She was not pretending. She offered him the straw again.
   Kurama could not deny that he was incredibly thirsty. If she had swallowed it, it lacked medicine; he could trust that. A doctor could not be drugged and on call. He took the straw in his mouth and relished the sip of water. She allowed him to take several mouthfuls before Kurama pulled his head way.
   “That ought to help,” she said, setting the portable cup on the floor, out of his line of sight. “Try not to cough too deeply.”
   Kurama was unsure what to make of this strange woman, of her red manicured nails and her pleasant smile. She was bubbly and comical, but soothing and sweet. She listened, and she had yet to call him Shuichi twice. She’d heard him speak of demons and controlling plants, but had not dared to dissuade his ‘illusion’ or call for help. Instead, she had offered him water, and taken the first sip to prove her trust.
   Kurama’s mouth, now soothed by the liquid, burned a little less.
~*~
   Kazuma could not go home, could not bear to lay in the bed that had been theirs, and so he slouched upon Yusuke’s bar, bitter with his head in his arms. It was Thursday and a little after noon; but Yusuke and Keiko had both taken off work after the exhausting hospital trip. After being thrown out and followed onto the street by the hospital security, Kazuma had wandered the road without clear destination in mind until Yusuke had pulled him by the shirt collar into his car and taken him home. Kazuma had not left since, sleeping on their couch and waking up only when offered by Keiko who had given him a glass of orange juice and some aspirin for his pounding head ache. The entire lot of them looked like shit; Keiko was sullen and pale with bags underneath her lovely brown eyes. Yusuke was grim and kept rubbing his face as he moved about his personal kitchen, making them a meager breakfast. None of them were really hungry but they genuinely needed to eat. Kazuma sat upon a bar stool, Kurama’s lock of hair before him, and watched as his breath made the long red strands flutter up only to drift back down in their hold. He’d put one of Keiko’s berets around the lock, suddenly incredibly attached to it. It was all of Kurama that he could hold or touch... and so he would not let it go.
   A vibrating in his pocket caught his attention in a heartbeat; he was getting a call on his cell phone. Yet when he sat up and took his phone out, he did not recognize the number. He glanced up at Yusuke who was waiting for him to pick up with wide eyes.
   “Hospital,” Yusuke said.
   Kazuma picked up at once, clenching the lock of hair tight.
   Keiko waited, stopping in the middle of peeling an orange. Yusuke stood beside her, his eyes never leaving Kazuma’s face.
   “Hello?” Kazuma said.
   “Is this Kuwabara Kazuma?” a voice asked. It was bubbly and female.
   “This is he.”
   “My name is Doctor Tomoe Gozen,” said the woman. “I’m Shuichi Minamino’s psychiatrist at Matsuzawa Hospital. He’s your boyfriend, correct?”

   Kazuma could not help the gasp that fled past his lips. He looked at Yusuke who silently urged Kazuma to put the phone on speaker. Kazuma did so with shaking hands, setting the phone upon the counter top to hold Kurama’s locket of hair.
   “C-correct!” Kazuma blurted out. “How is he?”
   "At the moment he’s a little preoccupied with a fantasy world. But I’m going to get to the root of it very soon, so don’t you worry. I called to ask you a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”
   “I-“ Kazuma looked up where Keiko gestured helplessly. What more could they do but follow demands at this point? “I don’t mind at all; can I see him?”
   “Soon. Very soon, I promise,” Dr. Gozen replied; she sounded sincere, but Kazuma still wasn’t sure. “First I need to get a bit more information as well as put him on a stabilizer. Hopefully it’ll help with the hallucinations he’s having.”
   “Hal-“ Kazuma choked, floundering with an open mouth; Kurama was having hallucinations? Dear God, when would this train to hell stop? “Hallucinations?!”
   “Well, right now he thinks that he sells medicinal herbs to demons, that he can control plants, and that he is on a team of spirit detectives that deal with troublesome apparitions. He likewise is under the impression that his name is Kurama, not Shuichi... so we need to deal with that first.” Dr. Gozen laughed.
   Kazuma made a noise before he could stop himself. Yusuke dropped the knife he was holding, making it clatter to the floor. Keiko just stared, her hand over her mouth.
   What had Kurama done?
   “Um...” Kazuma mumbled.
   “I was wondering, has he always had these assumptions?” Dr. Gozen continued on. Keiko immediately waved her arms about signaling a huge ‘no’ with terrified eyes.
   “No!” Kazuma blurted out, watching Keiko the entire time. “No, he just really loves plants. Maybe that’s it.”
   “Quite.”
   “And Kurama’s a nickname we all use.”
   “I see.”
   “And... and he has to deal with some really nasty people, they could be demonic in a way?” Kazuma said, knowing it was one hell of a stretch even as he said it.
   “Mhmm.” Dr. Gozen had yet to tell him to stop.
   “And we were on a team. We used to do d-detective work,” Kazuma stumbled, for he knew no other way to explain it. “That’s probably what it was about. It’s just a small hiccup, right? I mean... he’s not...” but the word ‘crazy’ could not pass through Kazuma’s lips.
   Yet it seemed Dr. Gozen understood.
   “No,” she said at once, quite soothing in her tone. “No, he’s just a little confused right now. This upcoming Monday I was thinking it might do him some good to see you. He’s very upset about this whole affair, and misses you terribly. It may boost his morale, soothe him, to be able to see you.”
   Kazuma felt like the knife Yusuke was picking up from the floor had been plunged into his chest. Kurama missed him terribly and was very upset- and he was powerless to comfort him. Kazuma could not imagine a darker pit of hell than the one he now resided in.
   “God.” He put his head in his hands, wishing he could just wake up.

   “Tell me what happened the day Kurama tried to kill himself. When did this... break down start?”
   “His mother died,” Kazuma mumbled into his hands.
   “When did this happen?”

   “January tenth.”
   “I see...”
   “We cremated her earlier that morning.”

   “Go on.”
   “We got home around two...” Kazuma shuddered, the entire scene suddenly replaying itself; the milky tea cup, Kurama’s haunted expression, the door caving in under his touch and blood upon the floor. “And when we got upstairs, to our kitchen he... made the tea...”
   “Tell me about his mother. What was her name? What was her relationship with Kurama like?”
   “Shiori Minamino,” Kazuma said. “Kurama loved her very much.”
   His voice broke, and he immediately put a hand over his mouth. He did not want the doctor hearing him crying over the phone.
   “And is he an only child?”
   “Yes.”
   “Is his father alive?”

   “They’re estranged,” Kazuma said, still quite bitter over the whole shooting incident.
   “So it was just him and his mother, growing up?”

   “Yeah.”
   “But I have paperwork here from a man who is his step-father.”
   “She remarried a few years ago... but he isn’t close to Kurama,” Kazuma said; he still did not know how he felt about Hatanaka, but right now he certainly didn’t like him.
   “And what about you? Do you live together?”
   “Yes,” Kazuma whispered. He looked away, not wanting to see Yusuke or Keiko’s faces as he suddenly thought of his home right across the street.
   “And how long have you been together?”
   “Over a year now,” Kazuma said. Had it really only been a year?
   “Okay! Well, I’ll tell you what... Thank you so much for helping me to figure out what happened that day and I am going to program your number into my cell phone. As soon as Kurama is ready to receive visitors, you can come and see him.” Dr. Gozen sounded quite cheery, but Kazuma was fucking miserable.
   “And you... you have no way of knowing when that will be?”
   “Well, I can’t have him running around telling people that he sells drugs to demons.” Dr. Gozen laughed, and frankly Kazuma could see the logic behind that sentence. “He’s very upset, Kazuma. This psychological break with reality alludes to deep seated issues that I will have to work with him on. He could have another mental collapse if we push him to hard too fast, and he might attack someone again. He would be very upset and hurt if that were to happen. I want him to go at his own pace. When you see Kurama is, frankly, up to Kurama.”

   Then he was genuinely screwed, and would never see Kurama again.
   “... okay,” Kazuma whispered, his head back in his hands.
   “All will be well, I promise. But I have to go. I’ll call when I have more information.”
   “Bye,” Kazuma mumbled.
   “Goodbye.”
   And she hung up.
   For a moment there was a horrible silence as they all sat about the kitchen bar and realized the gravity of the situation. Kurama was no longer attempting to hide the truth, and in doing so was putting himself deeper into a hole where Kazuma could not reach him. It didn’t matter if Kurama was healthy and healed; if they thought that he was mentally broken, they wouldn’t let him out of Matsuzawa or allow Kazuma see him. There was no way for Kazuma to reach Kurama now, unless Kurama somehow managed to get a grip on himself and remember to lie...

   But Shiori was dead; Kurama no doubt felt that lies were useless. It put Kazuma in such a state of misery that he could do little but moan into his hands.
   “... Well,” Yusuke grumbled, resuming chopping green onions, “Kurama ain’t wastin’ no damn time spillin’ the beans.”
   “What do we do?” Kazuma demanded of Yusuke, fear flooding his face as he smacked his hands upon the counter. The force made his phone jump a little. “He’s telling her the truth, and she’s gonna lock him up! What do we do?” He looked up at Yusuke, afraid. “They think he’s crazy! That he’s hallucinating!”
   Yusuke had no answers, his hands in the air as he backed away from the counter. For a minute there was only silence as Yusuke paced and Keiko thought.

   Then, Keiko looked at Yusuke with newfound inspiration.
   “Yusuke,” she addressed him, and he stopped momentarily to glance at her, “Maybe we need to ask for help from the other side.”
   Yusuke raised an eyebrow.
   “Maybe Koenma can do something,” Keiko clarified; Kazuma’s heart suddenly leapt. He hadn’t thought about Koenma in years! Could it that their answers lay in that toddler’s hands? “They have doctors in spirit world, right?”
   But Yusuke was still thinking and hadn’t answered.
   “Right?”
   “Right,” Yusuke finally said. He was suddenly looking up at the ceiling, as if to the sky which lay beyond the plaster and concrete.
   “Then call Koenma,” Keiko urged. “And tell him to get Kurama out of there. Say that Kurama’s revealing information about demon and spirit world; Koenma will have no choice but to intervene. He’s done it before!”
   It was true. He had.
   Kazuma and Yusuke glanced at one another.
   Yusuke turned, and without another word left the kitchen heading for the stairs to the second floor. Kazuma did not know where he was going or what he intended on doing when he got there... but, God, he hoped it was enough.
   Kurama’s lock of hair was still clutched tight in his hand.
~*~
   Three days passed, and nothing changed. Kurama remained bound to the bed, his joints sore from being unable to move. He’d started on a medication, and Tomoe came to sit with him frequently but Kurama did not change his story; every time she left she looked oddly disappointed... but she always returned with more energy and hope the next day. She was relentless in her pursuit of his good health.
   But Kurama knew he was doomed; that he would no doubt die in this hospital simply from a broken heart if nothing else, and wept often to himself as he thought of Kazuma and all that lay outside the concrete and straps that bound him. He thought of Yusuke and Keiko, of their beautiful restaurant and their incessant bickering. He though Shizuru, strong and smart; he thought of Yukina and how her little soaps smelled of ginger. He thought of Hiei quite often, and the life that both of them had lead in demon world. He wondered where Hiei was (no doubt with Mukuro somewhere) and what Hiei would say if he knew all that Kurama was enduring. He would no doubt be enraged, and cut him free of the bindings...

   Oh, what Kurama would give for Hiei’s skilled hands... for his sharp eyes and sharp mind. If anyone could get him out of this mess, it would be Hiei.
   But Kurama suffered in silence, his sobs echoing about the desolate and dark room late into the night. When the sun rose, Kurama’s eyes ached, and there were puffy red tear tracks upon his face.
   He had no way of telling time, but as shadows crept across his room close to dusk on the third day, there came a knock on his door and it was opened to reveal Tomoe. She had her clipboard in hand once again, and was smiling in that same bubbly way.
   But she frowned when she saw him crying.
   “Hello...” she murmured softly, coming over to his bedside and sitting down. She took a tissue and wiped at his cheeks though there was little need for it. Kurama jerked away from her touch. She respected the move and did not make to dry his tears any more, though she easily could have. “How are you?”
   “Dying,” Kurama ground out between clenched teeth.
   “Why are you dying?” she asked. She had a tape recorder with her, something she often carried about, and she set it on the bedside table. Kurama could see its red little light blinking.
   “Because I am rotting away in an asylum,” Kurama’s voice shook, “and I cannot be with the ones I love, and you think that I am fucking insane even though all I am doing is telling the truth.”

   “Well now, that’s silly.” Tomoe scoffed softly. “Because, one, you’re not in an asylum, you’re in a psychiatric hospital-“
   “It’s the same goddamn thing!” Kurama shouted, his voice bouncing wildly about the room, “Don’t you dare attempt to sugarcoat the truth!”
   He seized coughing, and looked away.
   Tomoe said nothing for a moment, though she did lay a hand over his forehead to check for fever and also felt his wrist for his pounding pulse.
   “Goodness," she mused, completely at peace with the whole outburst. “That was quite an explosion. How long have you been wanting to yell at me?”
   “Days,” Kurama said bitterly.
   “Well, I’m glad you did,” she said, as if to insist he should have done so sooner. “Asylums are terrible things, I assure you, Kurama. You are not in one. You would have to be committed first... and in order for that to happen I would have to submit a piece of paper to a judge saying that you were criminally insane. Which I won’t, because you aren’t. So. You’re not in an asylum. Secondly, I do not think you’re insa--”
   “Really?” Kurama demanded. “Because I’m still strapped to this bed!”
   “Only for now!” Tomoe offered. “Only until we understand why you think you’re selling drugs to demons and controlling plants-“

“Oh my god,” Kurama screamed again, his temper lost for the second time as he snarled at Tomoe. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” He thrashed in his bindings but it was no good. He could not break free of them, “I’m telling you the truth!”
   Tomoe just watched him, alert but unafraid. Kurama collapsed back into his pillow suddenly weak and miserable as a sob escaped his lips.
   “Oh, there’s no use...”
   “Why are you crying?” she asked him softly.
   “If Kazuma saw me like this it would kill him. I want-“ Kurama broke off, a sob making speech impossible for a moment. “I want to go home but I don’t deserve it. Not after... what I’ve done.”
   The sins of his crimes lay heavily upon his chest; it suddenly felt very difficult to breathe, as if the air was poisonous gas and not oxygen.
   “But really, what have you even done?” Tomoe asked, rubbing his arm soothingly. “You made an honest mistake, plain and simple-“
   “I hurt him-“ Kurama sobbed, remembering vividly how he had punched, slapped and scratched Kazuma after foiling his suicide attempt, “When he made me throw up the lye-!”
   “Well, he thwarted your plan,” Tomoe reminded him. “And you’ve already said you’re quite the strategist. That must have made you very angry-“
   “I said horrible things to him!” Kurama shouted wildly at her, his sobs now wracking his frail body in huge gasps. His throat burned, he was almost certain there was blood in his mouth, but still he could not stop crying.

   “What did you say?”
   “I- I can’t remember- but it was... something like ‘If you loved me you’d let me die’.”
   “Well, that’s a very scary thing to say to someone who loves you,” Tomoe admitted. She put her hand back over Kurama’s forehead stroking away his chopped locks, “I spoke with Kazuma a few days ago on the phone. He was very worried about you... I don’t think he’s mad. I think he wants to see you, to hold you; he told me that your mother recently died.”

   Kurama looked way, forcing Tomoe’s hand from his forehead.
   For a moment they sat in ugly silence as Kurama wept softly into his pillow. Tomoe rubbed his arm up and down, never stopping. Her hand was warm upon his skin.

   “My mother died too, about a year ago,” Tomoe admitted; though Kurama listened, he was still so distressed that Tomoe’s words were not sticking as they ought to. “She suffered from aggressive Alzheimer's. It was very frightening to watch the woman I love dissolve into a woman I did not know. I was given the option to commit her... but I didn’t. I should have. Professionally, I know that; but I didn’t.“ Tomoe paused. “I couldn’t do that to her. Every time I thought about it I would remember how she'd pick me up as a little girl and twirl me in the air.”
   Kurama sniffed, looking up at her. Tomoe was smiling fondly at her memory.
   Suddenly Kurama could remember being in a cherry tree, a child no older than five, and Shiori calling out to him from below, her ams open wide, waiting to catch him.
   “My mother was a brilliant scholar... but her mind became her madness. Still, I’ll always remember her as I saw her in childhood. I don’t recall the woman who ran half naked up the street screaming, raving mad... that wasn’t my mother.” At this, Tomoe looked at Kurama expectantly. “Who was your mother?”
   “... Shiori.” Kurama whispered the name.

   God, what he would have given to be held by Shiori now, to feel her loving and sympathetic arms around his neck.
   “She was kind,” Kurama said; what use was such a detail to Tomoe? But still he told her. He told her simply because he must tell someone before his mind broke completely in two as it was bound to do if left under such strain. “She was kind, and good, and she trusted me.” Another sob passed through Kurama’s lips.
   Tomoe nodded, pulling out her pen from her breast pocket to write upon the clipboard. It didn’t matter what she wrote now; Kurama no longer cared.
   “She never knew the truth about me,” lamented Kurama. “She never knew."
   “What truth did she not know?”
   “That I was a demon. That I was... vile and cruel. That I was murderous.”
   “Heavy words,” Tomoe mused, looking up at him. “But I don't know if you’re any of those things. Why do you claim to be them?”
   “Because they are true, you foolish woman!” Kurama snarled at her. Of course, she heard ‘demon’ and thought it meant a bad person. She still could not comprehend. “You think that you know who I am, that you know why I’m here, but you do not!”
   At this, Tomoe re-crossed her legs and relaxed into her chair.
   “Please," she said, waving a hand expectantly. “Why are you here?”
   “I’m here because I drank lye and was stupid enough to get caught,” Kurama snarled. “I have a long history of thievery, arson, murder and torture. Had I been in my prime, I would never have gotten caught. I’m here because I’ve gone soft!”
   “Long history?” Tomoe repeated his words. She flipped causally through her clipboard, shaking her head. “You have no criminal record. You’ve never even gotten as much as a traffic ticket. Although you were shot several months ago and killed an attacker in self-defense. If you had committed murder, surely the police would have at least listed you as a suspect-“
   Kurama scoffed, cutting her off: “I didn’t do it in this life.”
   “This life?” Tomoe asked.
   “I did it in my past life. I am a demon.” Kurama enunciated the word with as much clarity as he could muster, in hopes that perhaps this time it would register properly with her.
   For a moment, Tomoe just stared at him.
   “What kind of a demon are you?” she asked finally, her pen perched upon her paper. It seemed the fun was about to begin.
   “A yoko.”
   “What makes you think that?” Tomoe asked, writing as she spoke.
   “Because it is true,” Kurama ground out, the words tight between his teeth. “There are two other worlds separate from this one: demon world and spirit world. I am from demon world. I have lived before. I am one thousand two hundred and forty eight years old, and that is not including my human life.”
   Tomoe just nodded, smiling up at him unexpectedly.
   “You’re looking good for one thousand two hundred and seventy three,” she said, and Kurama scoffed as she combined his demon age with his human age. “What’s your secret?”
   “You don’t believe me,” Kurama groaned to the ceiling. Of course she didn’t believe him, why should she? “You sit there and you think me a rambling lunatic. You have no idea what kind of power I possess. You think yourself safe.”
   “Do you think me unsafe?” Tomoe prompted.

   “I think you stupid,” Kurama seethed, turning his head to glare at her, “and unworthy of my time. I could kill you in a second if I so chose.”
   “Why would you do that?" she asked with no real malice or concern. “I thought we were friends. That’s very unfriendly-“
   “We aren’t friends, you are my jailor!” Kurama snarled, “You are mortal, weak, and completely vulnerable to me!”
   “Like your mother?” Tomoe threw the question out there as one might lob a sword; as skilled as a ninja, she sliced through the sinews of his heart. Kurama winced and looked away.
   “... Exactly like my mother,” he whispered.
   “Being one thousand two hundred seventy three years old must help with the fear of mortality; you must feel safer knowing you’re not going to die anytime soon-“
   “Are you a fucking idiot?” Kurama snarled at her. “I attempted to die; I wanted to die! I was going to die if I hadn’t been caught!”
   “And yet you seem to have a fascination with avoiding death since this is the second time you’ve done it,” Tomoe offered.
Kurama blinked in surprise and laughed in spite of himself. “Admittedly I did the first time. When I died I transferred to her womb and cared nothing for what it did to her body, to my soul. I thought I could easily recuperate and return, but I became conflicted. It’s really quite queer - I never cared about my first mother, my actual mother.”
   And all of a sudden, he was spilling his soul. “She was a normal yoko, like any other. All my family was. I was born into a large skulk of yokos, which is typical. I grew strong, I was good at defending and protecting, but I didn’t care about protecting others even if they were related to me. I wanted to taste blood. I wanted to know glory. So I struck out on my own and started carving a bloody path through demon world. This is before the rise of Mukuro, so there was no control in the Alaric to speak of, but it didn’t matter. Back then you didn’t need to kill the king. If you fucked up enough of the forest, you could get anyone’s attention.”
   He was talking so fast now, practically rambling. He must sound like a raving lunatic but he didn’t care. Tomoe was listening now, not even attempting to write.
   “Attention is good," she commented casually as he carried right on.
   “I murdered, I pillaged, I destroyed everything I touched, and I came to have a little group of followers. Idiots who thought I was their leader because I was stronger than them. I used them, I didn’t give a shit; they were simple-minded creatures and they fulfilled my purpose. The only ones that stood out in the crowd were Yomi and Kuronue. Yomi was just some fucking kid who thought he could take my spot if he got stronger than me but he was reckless and foolish and cost me several good heists because he went against my orders and got my men killed. So I had him assassinated; the job was botched and they only managed to blind him, but it didn’t matter. It got Yomi off my hands. That pathetic bastard.” And at this an ugly laugh escaped Kurama’s lips, cold and hard.
   “A pity they botched the job,” Tomoe mused. “You might run into him one day-“
   “Oh, I did!” Kurama cried out; by god, Tomoe was insightful. “Of course, then I had to deal with him as the ruler of Gandara. I had no interest in his political games, but he threatened Shiori, so I could not refuse him.”
   “And so you allowed Yomi to use you - a wild reversal of roles. What about Kuronue?”
   Kurama groaned. What about Kuronue, indeed? Kuronue, who had deserved none of his cruelty, yet had received all of it.
   “Kuronue was different. Kuronue loved me, the fucking fool. Every time he tried to touch me, I shoved him away. I thought he was nothing more than a disgusting leech, though he never showed me a drop of unkindness.”
   “That’s certainly different than how you treat Kazuma,” Tomoe said. The words stung.
   “I was wounded once. A heist went wrong, thanks to Yomi. I was in need of rest, I hid to recover, and Kuronue found me. The delusional moron just pressed himself against me, wrapped his arms around me, like I was his lover - like I was good to him in any way at all. Someone must have thought he meant something to me because they killed him in front of me, to spite me. I didn’t think it mattered, but- he pushed me out of the way. He screamed at me to run, and when I saw him, when I saw his blood on the ground, I … I suddenly felt everything. I had wasted my time with him.”
   The blood amid the bamboo, the light draining from those violet eyes-
   “That must have truly broken your heart,” Tomoe murmured softly.
   “I was enraged!” Kurama howled the word, twisting in his straps though he could not get away from the pain now rampant in his heart, “I murdered everyone. I murdered that whole colony - not just the men, but the women and the children too! They were animals, and I slaughtered them like animals!” he screamed.
   “And it felt good, to make them suffer,” Tomoe continued in that same soft voice, “after all Kuronue had suffered.”
   “But the SDF-“ Kurama laughed in spite of himself. What would the SDF say if they could see him now, firing off secrets about demon and human world left and right? “They were getting just a little angry with me. And they were waiting. It was a trap. And they pursued me. I was weak from the battle and I was so angry, so very angry- and they killed me. They shot me through the heart. And I died on that field, just like any other yoko... But I wasn’t ready to give up; I was furious. Furious at my carelessness. So I hid in the womb of an unsuspecting human-“
   “Shiori.”
   “Shiori,” Kurama confirmed in a whisper. “I was eager to recover, and I was born again into this life. At first I carried on with my plan and didn’t care about the foolish twit but she adored me. Of course she adored me - I was her child! And then, one day when I was four a glass jar fell to the ground, and I slipped, and had I hit it I would have been shredded to ribbon- but she threw herself at me. She took the glass into her own arms- till the day she died she had scars from that-“
   But he could say no more. He broke off, a fresh sob escaping his lips.
   For a moment they sat in silence. Then, Tomoe spoke.
   “That must have really touched you. Maybe even reminded you of Kuronue.”
   “I suppose it did,” said Kurama quietly.
   “After she saved you from the broken glass, did anything change?” Tomoe asked, recrossing her legs and picking her pen back up to write on her clipboard.
   “Everything,” Kurama moaned the word. “Everything. God, everything changed.”
   Suddenly Kurama had done a 180, turning from a cold and aloof toddler to a loving and devoted child. He had cared for Shiori even at the tender age of five, constantly forswearing his love to her and doing everything he could to make life better for her. When school had begun, he’d pressed hard to study, to understand these tricky human subjects like math and science. Shiori’s beaming face, so prideful and adoring, had been well worth the haggard nights of exhaustive studying.
   “What changed?”
   “I- I suddenly realized how much her love meant to me…” Her love had rocked him through nights of haggard dreams, of nightmares where he was a yoko again and slaughtering humans in the street. Shiori had stayed up, rubbing his feet till the early hours of the morning, lying beside him in his small bed and holding him snugly in her arms, humming lullabies into his ears.
   “Unconditional love,” Tomoe said.
   “She knew nothing,” Kurama repeated, bitter and hateful towards himself. “The whole time, she knew nothing! Because I could not tear her happiness from her- tell her that her son, her only family, was a barbarous wretch!”
   He screamed the word ‘wretch’ and for the first time, Tomoe flinched.
   She sat pensively in her chair, timidly reaching out to rub his arm. Still Kurama wept.
   “... Don’t let Kazuma near me,” Kurama sobbed. “Keep these chains on me, save humanity from me!” His words were barely distinguishable through his tears. “Save them all from me! Throw me in a cell and lock me up and don’t let me out - do you understand?”
   “Oh, Kurama...” Tomoe murmured. “Why do you want that for yourself?”
   But it was too much; Kurama could not bear it anymore.
   “Because I am evil!” Kurama screamed, thrashing hard; he was beyond hope, and he would do anything to make her understand. “Look at me! Look at me, and understand who you’re facing!”
   Kurama’s power suddenly kicked in; he could feel something thick and tuberous behind his head – a vine.
A single seed had been left in his hair from the hospital, but it was all that he needed. He pushed all his rage into that seed, all his power, and suddenly the straps holding him to the bed were busted free one by one as a wild net of vines scoured down his legs and arms. Tomoe leapt back, clutching her heart, her blood draining from her face as Kurama leapt off the bed, covered in vines and thorns. He wore them like a shield, and he reached out to grab Tomoe before she could run, before she could scream.
Kurama threw her against the wall, her head hitting it with a horrible, resounding smack. He pinned her there by the throat, vines now pouring above her body, thorns pricking her skin, making her bleed.
   Tomoe held back her scream but it was obvious upon her bloodless lips. Her eyes were pinched shut - Kurama would not stand for it.
   “Look at me!” he roared, and slammed her head against the wall again. She gasped, her eyes flying open; so large, so innocent, so terrified. “Look at me and see me for who I am!”

   Tomoe was speechless despite how the thorns shredded her soft skin, her mouth open and silent as Kurama pinned her tight against the wall. Their faces were pressed together now, Kurama’s legs shaking beneath him as they struggled to support his weight after four days of being tied down.
   “You think I’m some kind of delusional human, suffering from a nervous breakdown,” Kurama snarled. “It’s time to confront reality! I am a monster, I am unworthy of redemption, and I’ll slice you into a thousand bloody pieces before you have a chance to scream!”
A vine rose from his left, its thorny tendril stroking Tomoe’s cheek. From where the thorn touched her a thin red welt appeared, slowly opening with blood. He could shred her flesh like ribbon now; there was nothing she could do to stop him.
   “You thought I was spinning some elaborate tale, but I have told no falsities! My name is Yoko Kurama, and I am a murderous thief posing as human for the sake of a mortal coil. But that woman is gone now, and there is nothing holding me back! Nothing is holding me here, nothing to spare you from the agony of dying at my hands!”
A subtle flick of his wrist and another vine shot forth toward her neck, about to go for the kill-
   “Kazuma!” Tomoe blurted the name. The vine halted in mid-air, mere inches from her throat. Kurama jerked back as an icy cold rush of fear overtook him.
Tomoe looked him dead in the face.   “You have Kazuma. And – and,” she stumbled along, her words shaky, “You are having a nervous breakdown. Because you’re scared to death that you will become a murderer again. But you won’t! Because Shiori gave you all the tools you needed for recovery and redemption!”
   But Tomoe’s words were cut off suddenly by a thunderous crash which resounded on the other side of the heavily bolted door to Kurama’s cell. Both of them looked at it.
   Kurama could feel the overpowering spirit energy on the other side.
   He relaxed his hold on her a little bit, his vines retreating from her bleeding skin; could it be?

   “... I do believe you’re saved,” Kurama whispered softly.
It was the SDF, there could be no denying. Not with the power that he felt radiating through the door, not with the explosions slamming into it from the other side; they were going to force their way in!
   “Listen to me!” Kurama was shocked witless when Tomoe reached up and grabbed his face, forcing him to turn back and look at her. Her brown eyes were wide, blood dripping down her cheek, but still she tried: “I still want to help you, Kurama! I know you’re hurting and I can-!”
   But the door blew open, unable to withstand the pressure from the SDF. Kurama whipped around, got one good look at the men in armor pouring through the door, and then white light hit him right in the chest-
   He was falling into blackness, Tomoe still entangled in his arms....down.... down.... down.
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