Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Compromised	By : Dementian Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kurama/Kuwabara Views: 2033 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho and make absolutely no money off of it.

Chapter List
- 3
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Koenma’s job was a simple one, really. He stamped papers sending the dead to heaven or hell, and he watched over spirit world in his father’s absence. There were times when the job got hectic... an oncoming apocalypse perhaps or a martyr with a point to prove (like Sensui). For the most part, though, the world had been quietly spinning for the past seven years.

Yet here now before him was a woman who had somehow made it buzz again - plain and lovely, with brown curly hair and a simple sweet smile.

   Shiori Minamino stood in his office and beheld it all with enchanted grace. She looked up at the ceiling, at the walls, at the door behind her, and finally at Koenma.

   Incredible... to think this beautiful woman was Kurama’s mother.

Kurama’s destruction.

   “Are you ready to go?” Koenma asked, relaxing in his chair as he held Shiori’s file upon his desk. She’d chosen rebirth, something that he found slightly surprising since she’d done so many good things in her past life. Though she did not know it, her file also included details on Kurama’s resurrection into human world... Koenma could open the file now, could turn it around and show her, tell her everything.

   But for twenty five years, Kurama had kept his silence. Koenma could to the same for five more minutes. Shiori would never know... not even in death.

   “Almost,” Shiori said, pleasantly, “Is it improper of me to ask you a question?”

   “No,” Koenma assured her. “Many do. Usually about their family or themselves... sometimes the meaning of life though I confess I cannot impart those answers to a soul.”

   “I suppose you wouldn’t be surprised, then, if I asked how my son is doing?”

   Koenma shook his head.

   Her son was just down the hall, being put on a thorough detox after wreaking havoc in human world and nearly killing an innocent civilian. Koenma put on a smile and pretended one more time.

   “He’s fine,” Koenma lied. Though Shiori did not know it, a tape recorder lay in his desk drawer that proved heavily otherwise. “He’s sad, but he’ll be fine.”

   “I’m glad,” Shiori murmured, her smile relaxing a little. “I knew he would be... Kazuma loves him.”

   “Naturally,” Koenma agreed. How the hell those two had ended up together was beyond him, but who was he to judge? He had fallen in love with an employee and not even the one he spent the most time with. Poor Ame, now having to endure Botan giggling and poking sly teasing jokes at her for dating her own boss. “Is that all?”

   “That’s all," Shiori said.

   Koenma reached out for his stamp and signed her letter without another word.

   “My assistant Botan will lead the way,” Kazuma said, and he pressed a button upon his desk for Botan to know to open the door. She did so, poking her head inside and smiling sweetly at Shiori; she looked sad. Koenma gave her a warning look when Shiori turned her back on him. Botan had better not run her damn mouth and say something to Shiori.

   She nodded at him; she knew the rule. They’d had this conversation earlier.

   “Hello!” Botan said as she held the door wide for Shiori. “Shall we?”

   “Yes, why not?” Shiori said, and they walked off down the hall. Koenma waited a good three minutes after the door had shut, wanting Shiori out of the way before bringing in his next client... he pressed the button again, and this time when the door opened Yusuke Urameshi was on the other side.

   It was strange, to see him after so many years apart. Koenma had put everything into this boy, and watched in amazement as he flourished into a man. Yusuke had earned his respect, his allegiance, and when Yusuke had made the call requesting Koenma’s help, Koenma had given it at once. During his father’s reign, Koenma’s hands might have been bound... but he controlled spirit world now, and he made the rules. If Yusuke needed help, he gave it.

   Koenma gestured, and Yusuke walked in the room. Kuwabara was right behind him, both of them looked utterly spent. Koenma could not blame them. He’d called them an hour ago, requesting their presence in spirit world after capturing Kurama and bringing him to detox.

   “Yo,” Koenma said. “Long time no see.”

   “Where is he?” Kuwabara asked at once.

   “Being looked over by a medical team,” Koenma said.“The drugs that he had in his system were making him delirious at best; we have better stuff, suited to demons. But in all honesty I don’t see what keeping him here will do. I’m going to relinquish him into your custody-“ He pointed to Yusuke, “You’re strong. You can handle him.”

   Yusuke snorted, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t changed a bit in eight years.

   “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Yusuke grumbled, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. Kuwabara rubbed his face several times, seeming quite dead on his feet.

   “Can I see him?” Kuwabara asked.

   “No,” Koenma said. “Not until we get him stable - off the drugs.” Kuwabara was crest fallen, “Then you can come get him and take him home. After all that Kurama has done for me, I think this is the least I can do for him.”

   “Well,” Yusuke drawled, “I’m glad you agree. I would have hated to force your hand.”

   “You would have delighted in it.” Koenma scowled, for he was well aware Yusuke had a penchant for making chaos when he wanted to. “Don’t bullshit a professional bullshitter.”

   He opened his desk drawer and fished out the recorder. Putting it on the desk before the two men, he slid it forward. They eyed it warily.

   “We wiped everyone’s memories of the incident - over twenty five people from the ambulance ride all the way to the psych ward, not to mention the three hundred people involved during the funeral. Easy work,” Koenma said, touching the recorder. “All the files, all the footage, all the evidence... gone. It’s like it never happened. But it did happen, and this is the proof.”

   He hit play on the recorder and voices filled the air:

   “Keep Kazuma away from me... keep these chains on me... save humanity from me! Save them all from me! Throw me in a cell and lock me up-! Save yourself while you can!” Kurama’s voice was inhuman with grief and rage.

   “Oh, Kurama,” a woman’s gentle voice whispered, “Why do you want that for yourself?”

   “Because I am evil! Goddammit! Look at me! Look at me, and understand who you’re facing!” Kurama was truly screaming now, and strange sounds emitted from the recorder; Koenma was unsure what those noises were, but they sounded a bit like vines growing at a rapid rate... that would correlate with the report, at least.

   “You think I’m some kind of delusional human, suffering from a nervous breakdown. 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!”

   Kazuma flinched at Kurama’s words. Koenma could not blame 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 a 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!”

   They’d heard enough. Koenma hit ‘stop’, and the voices died out at once.

   Koenma looked up at the men unsurprised to find them both glaring.

   “That’s hardly the creepiest revelation of the tape,” Koenma said, for the part about Kuronue had been downright unnerving, “merely the most dangerous.”

   Yusuke took the tape recorder and clenched it tight in his fist. He might have broken it, but he didn’t.

   “Kurama is smart and kind... he is aware of the world around him." Koenma mused after a moment, lacing his fingers together upon his desk, “When he is healthy and happy, the truth will pour from his mouth. When he is at his lowest, none are safe.” He looked at the two men before him. “I’m going to try and get him to a calmer point, a middle ground from which you can work. But I’ll leave it to you to do the rest. I don’t know Kurama. I don’t know how his heart works or why this devastated him as much as it did. But I do know that when Shiori died a part of Kurama died too. We need to get that part back any way that we can. Work on that for me.”

   He nodded to Yusuke, who saluted him with his middle finger pointedly raised.

   “Sir, yes sir.”

   “Head on home,” Koenma dismissed them. “I’ll call when he’s ready to be picked up; expect it in about... three days.”

   Yusuke and Kuwabara left, closing the door behind them, and Koenma slowly took Shoiri’s file in his hands. He felt the weight of it, of an entire life now fully closed, and without another word slipped it into his desk drawer next to two other files.


~*~

   It was a very strange change, to be drug to spirit world in a binding light only to be removed upon arrival and told that he was not under arrest. Frankly, Kurama’s experience with spirit world authorities had usually been of a different color, but for some reason Koenma did not seem to blame him for his outburst. As soon as Tomoe’s memory had been erased and her wounds healed, Kurama had been lead to a private and quiet area on the end of a long hall where he could sit and think as the drugs were washed out of his system. He was not detained, he was not in chains, and he was not being hammered with questions. Instead, he was being left alone to muddle in his own thoughts... which was arguably worse.

   He knew now from Koenma that Yusuke had called in the favor to pull him out of the psych ward. Yusuke who had punched so joyfully in the mouth, was his saving grace and for some reason not angry with him. Kurama could hardly believe his luck, after having been so certain that his freedom was gone. Suddenly, he was no longer bound, and could do as he pleased so long as he was quiet and kept to his room. He could walk about, read a book, sit in the chair that was more of a bed than anything else... and think.

   Think he did, of nothing but Kazuma, their home, and how he longed to return to it.

   On the third day of his quiet captivity in spirit world, a knock came upon the door and it was opened to reveal a doctor holding a file and a bundle of clothes under his arms. Kurama sat up, having been slouched in his chair under a heavily depressive spell of thought.

   “Kurama? Your blood work came back. The drug’s out of your system,” the doctor said, gesturing with the closed file. “Lord Koenma says you’re free to be discharged.”

   He walked forward, and offered Kurama the bundle of clothes. It was a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt and a gray sweatshirt that was very familiar underneath a pair of tennis shoes. He smelt the sweatshirt, and was shocked at the hint of ginger and aftershave he found there.

   This was Kazuma’s sweatshirt, one that he’d worn quite often and grown very attached to.

   “Your friends brought this for you. They’re waiting for you outside at the bridge,” the doctor said.

   Kurama’s heart leapt, and he gasped as he looked up at the doctor.
   His friends... did that mean Kazuma was outside? Did that mean he could finally...?

   Did that mean he could go home?

   “Leave your IV in,” the doctor ordered. “We’re going to give you a prescription to take. When you’re ready, just come outside. We’ll walk you out.”

   With that, he turned and closed the door behind him as he left.

   Kurama looked at the bundle in his lap, and a dry sob escaped his lips as he touched the sweatshirt.

   He knew what he must do, but he was so very tired. Still he stood up and removed his dirty hospital clothes. He was utterly relieved as the smooth cotton of his t-shirt slid over his head. Of how marvelous it felt, to dress as normal people dressed. The sweatshirt was a sensory overload, and Kurama simply stood there for a moment to smell it deeply. He put on his jeans, and sat down to tie up his tennis shoes, but he just kept going back to that sweatshirt and inhaling.

   He could barely hold back tears, but he tried.

   He threw his dirty hospital clothes away in a bin by the door, and opened it to find that the doctor was waiting outside. He had a vial in his hands and gave it to Kurama. It was a prescription of purified Clematis... Kurama had given some to Yusuke when he’d been distraught so many months ago. He knew this plant well, and its side effects.

   “Take a dosage only if you have an episode. It’ll help with nightmares and anxiety,” the doctor said, and they walked together down the hall. It took them several flights of stairs to reach the bottom level of the palace, and by the time they did Kurama was utterly exhausted again.

   The doors to the outside were ahead of them, tall and imposing, Kurama trembled in their shadow as the doctor reached out and took the door knob in hand.

   “They’re just outside. Good luck.” He opened the door, and bright light made Kurama wince momentarily as his eyes re-adjusted.

   A land of pink fog, floating like a sea of mist awaited him. A great golden bridge extended up and out, covering the gap between the shell upon which the palace floated and the gates of the other side. The river Styx lay between them, peaceful and gentle in its silver streamed course.

   And there, on the other side of the bridge, were two men.
   Kazuma Kuwabara and Yusuke Urameshi.

   Kurama looked away, grief and shame filling him to the brim as he hastily blinked back tears. He took several steadying breaths, but nothing could seem to calm his nerves. The doctor registered his worry, and gave him a look of warning as he cast a wary eye out behind them. If someone saw Kurama on the edge of a nervous breakdown now, Kurama would never get home. He’d be detained even longer, and god forbid maybe even put in chains again.

   Kurama knew this, but the shame within him was making it impossible to stay calm.

   “Look, just get through the portal,” the doctor urged, whispering close to his ear. “Just get over the bridge and they won’t make you stay. If you want to go home, do what it takes. Hold it together.”

   Kurama nodded hastily, walking outside before he could change his own mind, and the doctor closed the door right after him so that Kurama could not turn around and run back inside. There, upon the threshold, Kurama looked up at the soft pink skies of spirit world and all around as the River Styx wound beyond them.

   This place was incredibly lovely. Why had he never noticed that before now?

   He knew that Kazuma was waiting, was on the other side of the bridge... and yet Kurama did not know if he possessed the will to go forward. Going forward would be tantamount to begging for mercy on his knees, to apologizing for everything and praying for forgiveness from those that he loved.

   But the doctor’s words hung in his ears.

   “If you want to go home, do what it takes.”

   The mists of the spirit world swept at his feet, temporarily hiding the bricks, and as Kurama looked down he noticed how tiny tendrils of pink flourished in the shallows of his shoes. He sniffed, and began to walk forward.

   Step by step Kurama trudged forward, and though he could hear Kazuma’s footsteps drawing closer he did not dare to look up. The back of his neck and his ears were very cold without his long hair. He’d not had short hair since he was in grade school; Hiei had first come into his life then. Funnily enough, he’d even had a girlfriend then... a lovely young woman named Maya. Was she his girlfriend? Kurama couldn’t be sure. She’d been more like a very good friend who wanted to be his girlfriend-

   He was upon the bridge now; Kurama did not know how close he was to Kazuma until he saw a shadow before him, and the tips of Kazuma’s boots peeking into his vision.

   He paused, brushing his lip with his trembling fingers; he kept his gaze averted low.

   A full minute passed and still Kurama could not look up. He knew Kazuma was waiting for him to speak, waiting for him to apologize. Kurama wanted to; shame burned in his cheeks. He took in breath after breath, feeling like he might vomit.

   Kurama slowly brought his hand down, but every time his hand got to his waist it would just rise again; first to his stomach, then to his heart.

   Kurama could feel himself shaking, despite the warmth of Kazuma’s sweatshirt.
   Why had Kazuma brought this piece of clothing for him? Because he knew that Kurama might be feeling cold? Or because he remembered that Kurama wore it often?

   Because Kurama did wear it often.

   “... I am... so sorry,” Kurama whispered, hoarse and fearful. He still would not look up, still afraid to hear what Kazuma would say, “... For everything.”

   There were warm fingers coming around his chin, and suddenly Kurama’s face was forced to rise. He gazed upon Kazuma, and saw in those warm eyes all the love and affection he feared would flee. Kazuma had bags under his eyes and was no doubt exhausted; had he not been sleeping? Kazuma stroked Kurama’s chin. Those fingers... oh, how Kurama needed those fingers.

   “I am so sorry-“ Kurama could not say it with a straight face when he was looking into Kazuma’s eyes, and suddenly Kurama was trying to look down, to look away, if only to spare himself the humiliation of weeping so openly after being the one to fuck up so badly. “I am so, so sorry-“

   “God-!”

   Kazuma jerked Kurama into his arms, wrapping him up tight in such a hug that Kurama felt his rib cage decompress. It was a hug of strength, of protective love that wrapped him up from the bitter cold he’d been feeling since he was first tethered to a bed almost a week ago. This past week had been a week from utter hell, and suddenly Kurama was weeping haggardly into Kazuma’s chest, wrapping his arms about his broad shoulders to cling to his neck.

   “I thought-“ Kurama blurted out, “I thought I’d never see you again!"

   And he had truly been terrified by the notion.

   “It’s okay. It’s all right.” Kazuma’s voice was thick was he cupped the back of Kurama’s head in his hand. He stroked the choppy lengths there, his other hand tight about Kurama’s waist, “Everything will be fine.”

   “I thought-“ Kurama could barely breathe for the sobs escaping him, “I thought I’d die in that place-“

   “No!” Kazuma urged, “No, I would never have let it happen. From the moment you were in there I was trying to get you out-“

   “I’m sorry-“ Kurama pulled back, his hands upon Kazuma’s handsome face; he tried to discern scratches or bruises, he’d thought for certain he’d left some. “I hit you. I hit you.” Kurama could not stand to hear himself say it. “I said such awful things. Forgive me, I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry-“

   But Kazuma just pressed upon his head, forcing Kurama to take refuge in his neck as he sobbed.

   “Hush...” Kazuma soothed, “Hush. I know you didn’t mean it."

   “I never meant to hurt you-“

   “If you don’t want to hurt me, then don’t hurt yourself. That hurts me.”

   He forced Kurama to look at him again, those loving eyes peering so deeply into his own that Kurama had no choice but to obey. For the past days he’d been on so many drugs he felt for certain he’d be purging his body for another two years, but Kazuma’s eyes were the greatest drug of them all. Under their gaze, Kurama was mesmerized, willing to do anything if only to see them smiling and happy.

   Kurama was still breathing haggardly, he suddenly felt like he might faint.

   “... I’m so tired...” he whispered; he looked over his shoulder. “Can we go-?” He wondered up at the palace of Spirit World. “Am I allowed to leave now?”

   “Yeah," Kazuma murmured sweetly, “You're in Yusuke’s custody and you know he doesn’t give a shit.”

   Kurama peered over Kazuma’s shoulder and saw Yusuke standing on the other edge of the bridge, waiting with a simple and charming air.

   Kurama had punched Yusuke, had surely busted a blood vessel beneath his eye from the force. He’d choked him. Why on earth was Yusuke smiling at him?

   “... I want to go home so badly,” Kurama admitted, his voice weak as his gulping sobs finally diminished. What was left was a hollow husk of a sound. “But I don’t deserve it.”

   Kurama felt fresh sobs beginning to form; he laid his head miserably upon Kazuma’s broad chest.

   Kazuma shook his head.

   Kurama was given very little warning as Kazuma bent, and suddenly he picked Kurama up beneath the knees to cradle him to his chest. Kurama might have fought against this grand gesture of affection simply for the fact that Yusuke was looking, but Kurama was tired and Kazuma was strong. In a way, it felt truly wonderful to be held in Kazuma’s arms. To be loved by such a powerfully protective man. Kurama closed his eyes, his arms about Kazuma’s neck, and felt the world beginning to slip peacefully by as Kazuma carried him off of the bridge.

   He was asleep and did not even know it.

   ~*~

   Kazuma did not put Kurama down when he stepped off the bridge, nor after he walked through the portal back to human world. Keiko was waiting on the other side, and she was positively relieved when she saw Kurama asleep in his arms. Yusuke jumped out the portal last, allowing it to close behind him, and she hugged him; Yusuke grinned in spite of his somber mood, kissing her softly on the lips.

   The four of them made their way through the deserted streets of Sariashiki. It was close to three in the morning, and no one was out on a regular Thursday night. A cop car passed by, but a glance at the window proved it wasn’t Shizuru behind the wheel. As they made it to Eighth Street, Kazuma was downright relieved to see his home come into sight... Kurama’s herbal shop, which had been closed for a week due to another ‘family emergency’ or so the sign on the door read. Keiko unlocked the door for him, and as they stepped inside she kept the sign on the front door. There would be no need to take it down until Kurama was ready to get back to work. Kazuma had no idea how long that would be, or what condition Kurama would be in when he woke up.

   They went upstairs, Keiko once again opening the door so that he might pass. It was unnerving to walk past the kitchen, to remember how Kurama had poured himself a cup of lye and water... even more unnerving given that the door to their bedroom still had not been put back up. It leaned against the wall now, chips of wood missing from the bolts where Kazuma had broken them clean in two.

   Kazuma laid Kurama upon their bed, finding that he was asleep and positively angelic with his head upon the pillow. As he worked to untie Kurama’s shoelaces, Yusuke cracked his neck and rubbed his face wearily.

   “All right,” Yusuke sighed as Kazuma took off Kurama’s shoes and gently situated him beneath the coverlet. “You need us, we’re across the street. I’ll have my phone on me all the time in case there’s another emergency. But I think we’re good.”

   “Yeah,” Keiko mumbled, reaching out to touch Kurama’s choppy hair. Of course, she knew it had been cut off but hadn’t seen it until now, and she certainly did not look happy about it. Yet as Kazuma made to unzip his sweat shirt, he noticed something in Kurama’s pocket. It was a bottle, and his heart leapt for a second until he pulled it out and realized that it was a drug administered by Spirit World (or so the label said). Kurama had probably been given it by a doctor.

   “One hell of a cocktail,” Yusuke mused as Kazuma tossed him the bottle to inspect.

   “Take it with you,” Kazuma said. “I don’t want it in the house.”

   The last thing he needed was Kurama with access to powerful drugs that were no doubt lethal in high dosages. One of Kurama’s hands still had an IV in it, and Keiko made a short trip to the bathroom for their medical kit as Kazuma gently peeled off the hospital tape and slowly took out the needle. He would have to be careful in how he disposed of it. As Keiko re appeared, she put a Band-Aid over Kurama’s wound and began to gently rub at the tape residue with a cotton ball dolloped by hydrogen peroxide.

   “Hospital tape is so darn hard to get off.” She grumbled as she rubbed, “What do they put in it, cement?”

   “I won’t be surprised if he doesn’t wake up for twenty damn years,” Yusuke said.

   “I won’t be surprised if he doesn’t sleep for twenty damn years,” Keiko cursed in a highly unusual manner. Kazuma wrapped Kurama’s tape about the end of the needle, wanting to keep it from sticking one of them by accident. “Think about all the awful memories he has now.”

   “He’s sleepin’ now,” Yusuke offered.

   “Well, he’s tired,” Keiko grumbled. Setting Kurama’s cleaned hand atop the covers she reached out again to touch his choppy hair, “Oh, his lovely hair..." she mused somberly, “I can fix this. Tomorrow I’ll come over and shape it up a bit.”

   “Thank you,” Kazuma murmured. It would be extremely strange, seeing Kurama with short hair, but he knew in time it would grow out again.

   “We’ll put some gel in it and slick it back.” Yusuke joked, gesturing with his own hands and hair. “He’ll be a regular greaser.”

   “... No, thanks.” Kazuma made a face, trying hard to imagine it and failing miserably.

   They left the bedroom, Yusuke and Keiko no doubt ready to keel over in their own bed, yet as they graced the top of the stairs Kazuma could not help but delay them a moment longer.

   “... Thank you,” Kazuma whispered softly as Yusuke made to descend. Yusuke stopped, looking over his shoulder up at Kazuma with that careless grace Kazuma so admired. “You saved his life.”

   “Nah,” Yusuke whispered back, “I just pulled some strings. Saving his life... that’s your job.” At this, Yusuke poked him in the chest with an accusatory finger.

   Yusuke turned and followed Keiko down the stairs; like a true hero, Yusuke knew how to make an exit.

   The next day, Kurama had not woken up till close to three in the afternoon, and even then had been so exhausted all he could do was drink soup from a bowl and go back to bed. Kazuma did not leave his side, determined to protect him as he healed.

   Keiko came over, offering to cut his hair for him just as she’d promised as soon as she got off work, but Kurama had merely shaken his head with his eyes upon the floor. It seemed that he did not want to trim his hair, wanted to wear it chopped almost like a red badge of shame. Kazuma did not want to push Kurama nor make him do anything he did not want to do. So Keiko went home with her scissors unused (but not before bringing them both takeout from Yusuke’s) and the pair of them had snuggled together upon the couch to eat, watch movies, and let Eikichi relax upon their lap.

   Kazuma tried to get Kurama to go outside, but Kurama seemed afraid to leave their house and would only go so far as their back balcony which overlooked a small green area behind Eight Street. The pair of them rested there, with Kurama upon Kazuma’s lap and a blanket cast over his legs as the sun went down. Kurama often fell asleep, as if he hadn’t slept in two hundred years, and but he likewise often awoke from terrifying visions that left him screaming for mercy in the dark. Kazuma latched onto Kurama at these times, holding him as tightly as he dared while Kurama cried into his pillow and begged to go home or see Kazuma, not even understanding he already was and that Kazuma was right next to him in bed.

   It became a terrible existence, where Kurama’s grief and shame was a tightly knit part of his personality. Kazuma could see no trace of the man he’d fallen in love with; the coy and flirtatious grin of a mastermind with a heart of gold... the elegant grace of a man who’d lived a thousand years and danced a thousand dances. Kurama’s beauty was now hidden beneath a veil of shame... and it broke Kazuma’s heart.

   Yet even in the dark, there were moments of understanding.

   Kazuma’s gut alerted him to the hours when Kurama would do nothing but stare at their old pictures, in particular the only one they had of Hiei where he was kissing Mukuro. Kurama often touched that picture, his fingers upon Hiei’s face, and suddenly Kazuma realized that Kurama was suffering in human world where Shiori’s vacant life was all around him, so very evident in the boxes of her belongings that Kazuma had received from Hatanaka for Kurama to go through.

   Thank fucking god Koenma had modified the memories of everyone at the funeral. They now thought Kurama gave an eloquent and lovely speech... Kurama’s real words were forever etched into Kazuma’s mind.

   “I'm glad she’s dead.”

   And then, it clicked.

   Kurama needed to get away, needed a vacation, despite crying for home every night in his pillow. Kurama needed to go somewhere comfortable, somewhere familiar that was far from Shiori’s influence.

   There was only one place that Kazuma could think of: demon world.
   Demon world... where he’d only been once and barely for two hours; demon world, which reeked of corpses and death upon the wind.

   Demon world, where Hiei reigned in the chaos and made out with a girl that had a metal arm.

   Kazuma did not want to do it, honestly fearing demon world and all its strangeness, but he could easily see that Kurama needed to get away, needed to reexamine his thoughts and his life away from Shiori’s memory.

   And so, a week after Kurama had come home, Kazuma picked up the phone to call Yusuke. Kurama sat upon the couch, barefoot and wearing his sweatshirt. Kazuma had just helped him to shower, and his hair was still wet; he lay against the couch, half hidden beneath a large flannel blanket with Eikichi upon his lap.

   “Hey man...” Yusuke said when he answered the phone. “How’s he doing?”

   “Bad,” Kazuma admitted. He looked over his shoulder at Kurama, his eyes lingering on the deep shadows underneath Kurama’s empty green eyes. “I gotta admit, I’m starting to think he needs some time away from human world. To... register this and get through it. You know?”

   “Yeah. I can see the logic in that. This whole place was all for Shiori in his eyes.”

   “Right.” Kazuma looked down for a moment. “There’s a favor I gotta ask.”

   “Ask.”

   “There’s one person Kurama trusts on this level of grief-“

   “Uh, yeah, and his name is Kazuma Kuwabara-“

   “No,” Kazuma corrected him. “It’s Hiei.”

   There was silence on the other side of the phone, but Kazuma knew Yusuke agreed with him even if he did not want to admit it.

   “Hiei and Kurama are best friends. As close as you and I,” Kazuma murmured into the phone, rather eager for Kurama not to hear his words; yet a glance over his shoulder found Kurama just as lost within himself as ever and so Kazuma continued on. “Hiei’s a fuckin’ jerk to me, but he understands Kurama’s grief. Like that time with Kuronue-“

   “Yeah.” Yusuke said at once, the memory of their battle with Yakumo unnervingly fresh upon their minds. Kurama’s battle with the Kuronue look alike had been downright alarming, but Hiei had walked so bravely through it... his words had pulled Kurama back.

   Hiei made it look so easy, but Kazuma had been wrestling with Kurama’s demons for over a week now and he knew from experience that it was far from simple.

   “Hiei might be able to help,” Kazuma said. “But I don’t even really know where he is.”

   “Well, he’s in demon world obviously, and probably with Mukuro.”

   “The girl that nearly killed him.” Kazuma grumbled at the bloody memory of what should have been a very pleasant night.

   “Well, you know, a foot for every shoe.”

   “Christ, am I going to have to have conversations with this woman?” Kazuma griped as he wandered through the kitchen and fetched a soda from the fridge. He popped the tab with one hand and drank deep.

   “I... guess?”

   “That’ll be fun.” Kazuma sneered, “Hey lady, nice to meet you, thanks for nearly killing my friend. Maybe we can get him to find someone else, someone better for him that won’t try and murder him just because he runs errands-“

   “Dude-“ Yusuke cut him off, now sounding quite alarmed, “ Don’t even joke about stuff like that around Mukuro. She’s incredibly strong, probably stronger than me, and frankly I don’t think she’ll like it if you say stuff to her like that. If you’re going to be around her, you’re gonna have to watch your mouth... especially if Kurama can’t help you.”

   Kazuma cursed himself inwardly, unable to help his resentment towards Mukuro when Hiei had felt so frail and limp in his arms... like a broken doll cast away by a bitter child.

   “Look, I know a way to get in touch with Mukuro,” Yusuke said, still sounding quite apprehensive. “I can call her and see if she’ll be up for it, but are you sure Kurama will be able to stand Hiei’s kind of love right now?”

   Kazuma poked his head around the door to the living room, watching Kurama upon lay upon the couch.

   “...I gotta reach him,” Kazuma whispered into the phone. “He’s slipping.”

   He hated himself for even saying it, but he knew that it was true.

   “Hiei may be a dick to me but if there’s one thing he does best, it’s tying a knot at the end of his rope and holding the hell on,” Kazuma lamented.

   “True, he’s a little ass kicker through and through.” Yusuke joked, “Give me the night to call her... I got a way to patch through to demon world. Can I talk to Kurama for a second though?”

   Kazuma shrugged, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to Kurama. Kurama glanced at him and the phone that he held out.

   “Babe...” Kazuma whispered as Kurama rolled away, unwilling to answer the phone. “It’s Yusuke.”

   Kurama shook his head, but Kazuma didn’t give up, pressing the phone to Kurama’s ear. Kurama finally relented, sitting up a little to take the phone from Kazuma’s hand. Kazuma reached out to gently brush Kurama’s choppy bangs from his face. Kurama did not see to recognize the touch.

   “Hey, man... I’m gonna call Enki and get in touch with Mukuro so you and Kuwabara can go on a little vacation to demon world, alright?” Kazuma heard Yusuke say . “Don’t worry about a thing. Hiei’s gonna take care of you.”

   Kurama’s eyes flitted for a moment to Kazuma’s face before he handed the phone back. Kazuma sighed, taking it, wishing Kurama had at least said something.

   “We’ll talk to you later,” Kazuma mumbled into the phone, stroking Kurama’s head as Kurama lay back down on the couch and closed his eyes.

   “Bye,” Yusuke said, sounding quite dejected.

   Kazuma hung up. Kurama said nothing to this change in plans, feigning sleep though Kazuma knew he was still awake. He leaned over and kissed Kurama softly upon the forehead, and though Kurama did not shift away he did not respond to the affection either.

   “... It’s gonna be alright,” Kazuma whispered into his hairline. “Hiei’s gonna make it alright.”

   Kurama said nothing.
~*~

   Yusuke sat at his kitchen counter peeling an orange, cursing all the while for knowing what he must do. If anyone but Kazuma Kuwabara had asked, Yusuke would have told them to go take a flying fucking leap... but it was Kazuma and so now Yusuke’s hands were efficiently tied.

   Keiko smiled at him from across the counter, a glass of wine in one hand and his communicator in the other. Usually kept tucked way safely in an office drawer on the second floor, she now slid it across the counter to him.

   Yusuke grimaced at it, uneager to make the call.

   “Do it,” Keiko said.

   “I don’t know,” Yusuke grumbled.

   “Do it,” Keiko urged, more insistent. Yusuke sighed with an overdramatic flair as he slipped off the bar stool and came around the counter to embrace her. She set her glass of wine down, smirking even more as she wrapped a hand about his neck and played with the fine hairs at the base of his neck.

   “Make me brave,” he murmured. She reached up to place a teasing kiss upon his lips. Hinted with wine, he wrapped an arm about her waist and dove deeply into her mouth; how he adored kissing her this way... totally overpowering her till she had no choice but to submit to his every whim.

   To be fair, she was the one pulling the real strings. He’d do whatever she wanted with ease; as his tongue plundered her mouth he crept up her shirt with a well-seasoned hand, aiming for her unbound breasts- she wriggled away with a laugh just as the tips of his fingers danced upon a softly pebbled nipple.

   “No,” she toyed with him, a hand raised in warning. “Go call Enki first.”

   Now he was even more pressed to get the fucking conversation over with. He pecked her sweetly upon the lips, but as he made to pull away she stopped him with her hand upon his elbow. Reaching into a kitchen drawer they rarely used, she pulled out a pack of his cigarettes and placed them in his hand.

   A sign of good faith; ah, what a sweet wife she was. Yusuke kissed her again, this time more softly.

   “Just one,” she warned.

   “Just one,” Yusuke repeated, snatching up his communicator and stepping outside their balcony to light up a cigarette and dial Enki’s number. As the phone rang Yusuke watched Keiko go about the kitchen, putting dishes away and finishing off her glass of wine.

   He liked his life in human world; he liked running his restaurant and screwing Keiko every chance he got... he didn’t want to give that up for demon world, for the squabbling and the politics. It was why he’d stayed out of it for years. He liked a good fight, and wanted nothing more than to kick everyone’s ass... but he didn’t want it if it meant losing Keiko.

   The phone picked up.

   “Yusuke Urameshi!” Enki’s jovial voice boomed over the phone, “I thought you had slipped off the face of the earth! How long’s it been... nearly .... ten years now!”

   “Yeah, I’m slippery like that,” Yusuke said. “Listen, I hate to be a bitch but I gotta ask a favor. Do you have a way of getting in touch with Mukuro?”

   “Well, sure I do!”

   “Do me a favor and hook me up,” Yusuke said. “I have something to ask her. I’d rather do it over the phone than through a letter.”

   “Of course.” he could hear the gruff noise of Enki moving about. “Now, you know, while she has a communicator you’re gonna be darn lucky if you reach her. She rarely ever picks up the phone. I can give you the digits, you just tell me when you’re ready.”

   “Go for it,” Yusuke said.

   “Nine eight nine seven one five six two.”

   “Nine eight nine seven one five six two,” Yusuke parried back. “Let’s hope I’m lucky and she picks up.”

   “She ought to. She’ll see your name on the communicator when you call; Good luck, man! Next time you’re in demon world ring me up!” Enki said.

   “Thanks,” Yusuke said, pulling back and hanging up as he punched in Mukuro’s numbers. As he pulled the phone back to his face he grumbled into the air.

   “If this is the wrong fuckin’ number I will kill someone.” Yusuke sighed, but his breath jumped when the ringing stopped. Someone had picked up the phone.

   “....Mukuro?” Yusuke said allowed.

   “Urameshi.”

   That drawl, so smoky and sultry. Mukuro’s voice was as unique as the day was long, and boy... was it sexy. Yusuke had to admit, there was something about Mukuro. Then again, it might have just been the fact that she was incredibly powerful and could probably crush his skull in with her bare hands. He’d always had a thing for violent women.

   “.... I gotta favor to ask,” Yusuke said.

   “Such as?”

   “A friend of Hiei’s is in a real bad place.” Yusuke said, “His name is Kurama. He’s the one with the red hair; Yomi was using him during the last demon war-“

   “I remember,” she said, her tone slightly playful as Yusuke was cut off mid explanation.

   “Right, well,” Yusuke huffed. “His human mother died. He tried to kill himself, they had him a psych ward, he tried to a kill a human, they put him in a spirit world ward... we finally got him home last week but he’s... he’s not doing good at all. He and Hiei are real close, and I think Hiei might be able to help him. He needs to get out of human world, get away from all of this bullshit. It reminds him of his human mother too much; he’s slipping. He’s hardly the same guy I remember. Hiei.... has a way with people that are grieving. Especially people like Kurama.”

   For a moment there was silence.
   “I agree,” Mukuro finally said, and something had changed in her tone. She did not sound insincere.

   “... I’m assuming Hiei is still with you at your fortress,” Yusuke said, wondering if Hiei was even there at all. He was usually on the move, after all. Shit, he could be miles away.

   “Naturally,” Mukuro said, and there was something in the way she said it that made Yusuke grin.

   Hiei was fucking Mukuro. Of course he was still at the fortress. Yusuke could respect the game Hiei played.

   “You think Kurama and his boyfriend could come stay with you for a small bit? So that Hiei could help him?” Yusuke asked.

   “... Yes,” Mukuro agreed. Yusuke let out a sigh of relief.

   “All right, then. I’ll give them directions.” Yusuke even grinned. “Are you still in the Alaric?”

   “As a matter of fact, I wander the border. I lead patrols, guarding the passageways into human world. I can still my guard for a few days, and allow them to slip through. We’re in Modha right now. Set the portal, and they’ll be quite near us when they arrive.”

   Yusuke could do that; he could even set a portal up in his basement.

   “Thanks,” Yusuke said. “You’re a swell gal.... Hey uh, by the way, is Hiei there?”

   “Yes,” Mukuro said coyly.

   “Is he, like... near the phone?” Yusuke asked, for he wondered if it would be better for him to relay all that had happened to Kurama than Mukuro.

   “He’s sitting on my lap,” Mukuro said, but as Yusuke burst into a fit of snickering at the thought of Hiei perched on her lap like some kind of sex kitten, he heard a very familiar, angry voice in the background.

   “You fucking cunt!” Hiei snarled.

   “Can I talk to him?” Yusuke asked in good humor, but suddenly he could hear Hiei snarling much closer as if Mukuro was trying to get him to put the phone to his face.

   “Don’t put that fucking thing near me!”
   “Quit being a child and speak-"
   “Get off me, you stupid bitch-!”

   There was a loud thump, and Yusuke winced in spite of himself. He was pretty certain that thump had come from Hiei’s ass getting stomped by Mukuro’s foot.

   “He’s occupied right now,” Mukuro said idly.

   “With your foot up his ass, I hope.”

   “Indeed.”

   “Right, well, jam it up there real good for me, and put the phone near his face,” Yusuke said. He hear a shift of air on the other side of the communicator and took a deep breath in to scream at the top of his lungs with the phone out in front of his face.

   “Hey, Hiei!” Yusuke bellowed. “I’m sending Kurama your way! He tried to kill himself so you better help him out, you little bastard!”

   And with that, he pulled back to speak normally once more.

   “Thank you,” Yusuke said.

   “A pleasure,” Mukuro said smoothly. “Goodbye, Urameshi.”

   “Later, Mukuro,” Yusuke said, and he hung up the phone swiftly.

   He looked at it for a moment, still thinking of Hiei on the floor of Mukuro’s fortress, no doubt about to get pegged by a very angry bionic bitch.

   “Fucker,” Yusuke grumbled. Hiei deserved every second of it.
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