Kelly

chaoscentral @ 2006-07-15T04:35:00

2006-07-15T04:50:31Z

Title: Variation: The King's Bishop
Fandom: YYH
Rating: PG-13/R for violence and language
Pairings: None/Gen fic
Warnings: None this time. I know, I know! I'll try harder next time.
Summary: Kurama makes his move.

Previous chapters:

Prologue: Gambit
Part One: The Isolated Pawn
Part Two: Exchange Sacrifice
Part Three: The Captured King
Part Four: Hanging

Author's Note: "Komori Yu" is the name of the Japanese version of Spider-Man. I borrowed his name for the home of the Weavers.

Variation
Part Five: The King's Bishop

"In blitz, the knight is stronger than the bishop."
(Vlastimil Hort)

Wednesday afternoon, 11:52 am (human world time)

Kurama had felt eyes on his back all morning. Being watched was not an unfamiliar experience in the Makai, but this was not the usual eyes and ears of Yomi's court, or the here-then-gone flicker of Hiei dropping by on an errand for Mukuro, but something that raised his hackles and made him stretch his senses to the limit as he walked through every doorway and around every corner.

The sensation dulled somewhat in Yomi's antechamber, where Kurama suspected even Shura's inquisitive eyes dared not wander, but something told him that once he was out of Yomi's presence, it would return.

"I think I'll spend the day in the gardens," Kurama said as he stepped out of the room, half a step behind Yomi, and he felt the silent regard vanish.

The gardens were the one area Kurama considered his. He had claimed the fertile stretch of soil behind Yomi's palace and made it his own years ago when he had first begun to train Shura. Yomi had conceded it pleasantly enough, which meant that there had been overly-polite conversation about Kurama over-stepping his bounds and pointed remarks about neglecting his duties before Yomi had tired of the whole thing and made a gift of the space. Yomi could be predictable at times.

It was a place Kurama could generally count on being undisturbed. Plants in the Makai were not of any interest except as food – except the ones with teeth of their own, which were avoided at all costs – and Kurama's reputation for using them as weapons served to act as a reliable warning to most that they should search for their lunch elsewhere. Yomi himself could not be bothered to enter the gardens except on those occasions when he thought it would best serve to annoy Kurama.

Yomi's son was another story, a welcome visitor often wandering beneath the shade of maplewood and sakura trees as alien to the Makai as the janeju and firethorn vines were to the Ningenkai. Shura took after his father in that way – Yomi had the same appreciation for the exotic and unique, though he disguised it better and was not nearly so innocent in his regard.

Kurama hummed to himself as he walked through the gardens, pausing to examine the leaves of a rosebush. The song was one he'd heard only once, and that several hundred years ago when Kuronue had been spectacularly drunk, though the melody had stayed with him. It wasn't particularly catchy; Makai songs rarely were, and he could not remember the words. He was almost certain it was a drinking song of some kind, though. The tune was right. Besides, Kurama doubted Kuronue had known any other type of song.

The emptiness of the gardens made it easy for him to hear the rustle of bodies moving through the leaves, the pad of bare feet on the grass. Sweat and unfamiliar body odor stood out distinctly against the crisp smell of broken stems and crushed flowers. Kurama's human form was not as sensitive as his youko body, but if he concentrated he could still hear the soft rasp of breathing – heavy, heavy, soft – coming from three different sets of lungs.

Oh dear. He seemed to be surrounded. He hummed the end of the song with a flourish and made a mental note to see if Yuusuke had heard the words as he leaned over slightly, inspecting the tiny buds on the rosebush with an attention the perfectly healthy plant did not warrant.

From behind his left shoulder, several meters back, he heard the rustle of clothing and the whisper-soft movement of something – an arm or weapon – moving through the air as one of his stalkers made their first move.

He heard something cut through the air as he dodged, weight on his hands as he tucked his head down and pushed himself forward and up, flipping mid-air to face his attacker. He reached instinctively, following the sound more than the sight, and picked a clear glass dart out of the air less than a foot from his chest. He eyed it quickly, noting the clear liquid it contained within, permeated with the hint of youki and closed his fingers around it carefully before lifting his eyes to scan the trees surrounding him, making a show of looking for his attacker.

"Nice catch." The voice was feminine, congratulatory, as was the demon who stepped out from behind the concealing foliage of the lilac bush several yards away. "But I expected no less of Koenma's most competent servant."

Kurama dropped the dart into the dirt and commanded the grass roots to reach up and drag it beneath the soil. "Weaver," he acknowledged, pitching his voice on the high end, friendly and inquisitive. "You're a long way from the Komori Forest."

"Reikai dog," she said in kind, "you are a long way from your master's heels."

Kurama smiled, refusing to be provoked. It wouldn't be the first time he was accused of dancing to Koenma's tune, nor would it be the last. He did find himself wishing that occasionally someone would find something a little more relevant to insult him with. He'd robbed half the Makai in his day, but no one seemed to remember that. "What business is it of yours whose heels I sit at?" he asked, spreading his hands slightly in a shrug. "The Weaver kin don't bother themselves with the alliances of one demon." That was perhaps an overstatement, as the Weavers could not be bothered with much of anything outside their forest and the surrounding valleys and hills, but he felt he could be forgiven a mild exaggeration or two under the circumstances.

"The Weavers concern themselves with nothing but games of no great importance." The Weaver's voice dipped low and she took an aggressive step toward him. The silver bells threaded into her hair reflected the dim Makai light as she moved, chiming softly. "That is why they rule over nothing but a dreary forest."

Kurama felt his hackles rise, felt his youki stir uneasily. It was never promising when your opponent spoke of ruling or games.

"If you're interested in discussing politics," Kurama said easily, concentrating on the youki saturating the soil and plants around him, making himself ready, "perhaps I could arrange a meeting with King Yomi?"

The Weaver exhaled in a silent laugh and tipped her head, ink-black eyes regarding him through her lashes. "The false kings of the Makai have nothing to say that I want to hear. For now, you will do. You will come with us, Kurama."

"I'm afraid I have plans for this evening," Kurama said, turning to the side as if he planned to break away. He could hear shuffling in the trees from the two remaining watchers. "Perhaps if you left your card, I could get back to you when my calendar was clear?"

The concept of calling cards and appointment calendars was alien to her, and the tightening of her features made it clear she thought he was mocking her. Which, in all fairness, Kurama could admit he was. "You will come with us," the Weaver said again. She lifted one hand and Kurama deliberately took a defensive stance.

The remaining two watchers – the two heavy breathers – emerged from the forest with far less poise and delicacy than the Weaver had managed. One stomped like he was killing ants, heavy booted feet trampling across the grass and Kurama held his tongue as several small plants were crushed. The other was so busy keeping both eyes on Kurama that he nearly walked into a tree.

Good help, Kurama thought the human saying ruefully, but did not voice the sympathy. He was quite certain the Weaver was not here to exchange stories about the difficulties of leading a band of outlaws.

"You will come with us," the Weaver said for the third time.

Kurama risked turning his back to the Weaver, letting her think he was more wary of her helpers. "How could I turn down such a lovely invitation?" he asked. He edged backwards slightly, raising a hand to the side of his throat and palming the seed for the rose whip.

What do I know of Weavers? Kurama had never been to Komori Forest, and if he'd encountered a Weaver in the past, it had not left a lasting impression. He knew the stories, that they were conjurers and illusionists, capable of manipulating light and sound to create a false reality. So is any of this real?

Her two helpers certainly smelled real. Kurama was not receiving any conflicting input, either. His eyes were telling him the same things as his ears.

He heard the Weaver move behind him, the bells in her hair betraying her. He paused a heartbeat, then dodged again, letting the dart fly past him this time.

"My poison paralyzes the limbs and causes minor memory loss." The Weaver's voice was steady. If his hasty dodge had annoyed her, it did not show in her voice. "But it wears away eventually, leaving no permanent harm. Each additional dose makes the side effects longer and more painful. Eventually, the damage is permanent. For your human body, I'd say four doses would be enough to kill you."

"You've yet to hit me even once," Kurama pointed out, holding up his left hand, index finger pointing up. "Perhaps you're getting ahead of yourself?"

"You are outnumbered." Her bare foot padded softly against the soil as she took a deliberate step toward him. "You are surrounded." Another step. "And no one is likely to venture into these gardens until you are long past need of rescue. Do you need additional convincing, Kurama?"

They were all very good points, really. If not for the fact that these were his gardens, his plants, and he could at any moment bring the entire place alive beneath their feet with a mere thought. If she'd known half as much about his abilities as she seemed to think she did, she would never have followed him in here, let alone attempted to attack him.

He wondered what had brought a Weaver out of her forest, what had led her to enlist the aid of regular youkai, what had provoked her argument with him. He wondered what she had meant by her earlier statement about ruling.

He could stay here and bait her all day and learn nothing more than he already had, or he could play along, let her think she had the upper hand until he could determine what was really going on.

"I think you assume a great deal." He held himself still, ignoring her nearly-silent steps in favor of eyeing her minions suspiciously.

"I don't think I do." The Weaver fairly purred from only a few meters away.

Kurama let his eyes go wide and he straightened, turning to face her.

She bared her teeth in a lazy, gloating smile of victory and tossed a third glass dart to him.

Kurama caught it carefully. It was light, nearly weightless in his hand. He rolled the dart between his fingers and let himself smile grimly. "Tell me one thing," he said suddenly, putting just enough anger in his voice to guarantee they would listen. "Are you attempting to target Yomi? I'll tell you honestly: he doesn't care for me particularly. If you mean to take me hostage, he won't be swayed." Amused would far better fit Yomi's state of mind if such a situation were to occur.

The Weaver waved his words away like smoke. "Yomi is not our current concern."

Implying then that he would be a target in the future. Kurama wondered if the Weaver had deliberately given him that much information, or if she hadn't realized what she gave away.

"You don't expect me to poison myself?" Kurama gestured toward her with the dart.

"I do." The Weaver waved her hand again, dismissive. She'd bought his act and written him off as defeated. "Shall I repeat myself? No one is coming to your aid, youko. Administer the drug yourself, or I will." Her eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth slightly. "And I will use considerably more than one dose."

Overconfidence was such an unattractive trait in an opponent.

Kurama sent a spark of youki to one of the seeds he carried, hidden in his hair. The bloodflower was a beautiful flowering plant, whose blood-red blossoms were the only indication of its parasitic nature. He carefully controlled the growth of the plant, encouraging only the thin, hollow roots to grow. He sent one burrowing into the skin of his shoulder blade, where his hair would obscure any marks that may be left, and down the length of his left arm.

He nodded once to the Weaver, to show his compliance, and pierced the skin of his forearm with the glass dart.

His system absorbed some of the poison through contact; he could feel it burn, his human body offering little resistance. Most of it he emptied into the hollow root.

He tossed the empty dart at the Weaver's feet as he carefully healed the puncture wound in the root and ordered it to withdraw. It ached slightly as it slithered back up his arm, and he fought back a shiver as it extracted itself from his skin. It was full of the Weaver's poison; he couldn't reverse its growth and return it to the seed, as he did most of his plants. He held it in place at the base of his neck, letting it hold onto his hair until he could dispose of it without being seen.

The small amount of poison he had absorbed seeped through his blood already. The full dose would have devastated his human body and briefly, he wished he had thought to be in youko form before confronting them. But that might have made them cautious, and even his demon form might not have been able to combat a full dose. The Weaver's youki burned inside of him and it was enough to make his stomach turn. He was losing sensation in his outer extremities already.

Kurama let his knees buckle beneath him and he stumbled.

"Watch him," the Weaver ordered, her voice sharp. Kurama noted the sharpness. Perhaps she was not as certain of the poison's effectiveness as she pretended?

The two minions stomped over to his side. He ignored them as much as possible and focused inward, tracing the path and effect of the poison.

Kurama felt something slide through his skin, following the trail of the Weaver's poison into his blood, through his muscles, slithering around his bones and joints. It burned down the back of his throat and spread through his stomach and creeping tendrils pressed against his lungs and pulled at his breath.

Puppeteers, Kurama thought, a flicker of memory coming to light. Rumors that every so often a Weaver came about who could do more than create illusions.

The Weaver cupped his chin in her hand, her ink-black fingernails leaving marks in the soft skin of his throat. "Stand up, my little pawn."

Something slick and sweet bloomed on the back of Kurama's tongue as his legs started to move without his direction. Kurama's fingers dug into the earth beneath him and pushed; his legs drew up beneath him. He rose slowly, unsteadily. The Weaver pressed a hand against his chest.

"You're going to help us set a trap," she said.

Unnoticed by anyone, the bloodflower fell to the ground.

***

Wednesday afternoon, 11:59 pm (human world time)

As a thirteen-year-old wannabe street tough, Kuwabara had always believed that strength equaled power equaled fear and/or respect. He'd been strong, and as far as he'd known at the time, that meant he'd been powerful. For good measure he'd imagined a little bit of danger in there too, not like being a bad guy, but just enough that maybe the girls would think he was hot.

Vaguely Condor Joe but without the attitude problem. Or the ninja thing.

Anyway, it was a moot point because he'd never made it to the dangerous bad boy level of gangster hood. All the things you had to do to be dangerous generally involved being an asshole, and Kuwabara was the kind of guy who actually paid for his own porn and the only things he ever stole (besides one incident with a really sweet red convertible, but Urameshi was the one who'd done most of the stealing, Kuwabara had just been along for the ride, and anyway they'd brought it back with a full tank of gas) were his sister's cigarettes and Urameshi's beer. He couldn't help but feel that didn't really count. He was strong, but he wasn't dangerous.

Kurama was dangerous. Not very strong, not in human form anyway. Physical strength was the one area where Kuwabara had Kurama beat. For whatever good that did him when you realized Kurama knew about seventy thousand forms of martial arts and Kuwabara's style of fighting generally involved such complex techniques as "hitting shit", "stabbing shit" and occasionally the flashy tactic of "kicking shit in the head."

Of course, he'd learned to fight from repeated encounters with Urameshi, whose own tactics were more like "hitting shit" and the highly effective "hitting shit harder."

But Kurama had lived more than a thousand years in the Demon World, a place where a smart, careful demon would be eaten alive in ten seconds flat. He'd run a small chunk of it, apparently, as some kind of demonic criminal underlord or something; Kuwabara was vague on details. Decades after Kurama had fled to the human world, demons still recognized his name and face and reacted in fear.

Kuwabara was pretty fucking screwed, that was for sure.

In the half second between seeing Kurama and the attack, Kuwabara came up with about seven different ways he was going to die horribly and that wasn't counting the possibility that Hiei would throw him at Kurama as a sacrificial distraction.

"Oh, we are so screwed," he said. Hiei didn't hurry to disagree with him, which was a first.

Kurama stepped out of the edge of the swamp and leapt, six and a half feet of silver hair and lean muscle hurtling through the air straight for them.

The youko struck Kuwabara's hastily erected kekkai, orange light flashing briefly against his skin as the spiritual energy repelled him, then fell back, landing delicately on the balls of his feet. His tail swished briefly but his expression never wavered. This close, Kuwabara could feel the web of youki and enchantments wrapped around the youko's body. If he inhaled he could taste the cotton-candy stickiness that had ensnared Bishop; he could see the individual strands that criss-crossed Kurama's body like bright black tattoos against his skin and around his hair. They went inside, too, vanishing under the skin in places. Several thin threads hung from the youko's lips and dangled from beneath his fingernails.

"Screwed," Kuwabara said again. He flipped the spirit sword between his fingers, cracking his knuckles nervously as he did. Hiei was still and silent at his side and Kuwabara risked a sideways glance, unhappily willing to let the fire demon take the lead. If nothing else he could probably learn something from watching Hiei get slaughtered. A thought struck him and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't set Kurama on fire."

Hiei sounded exasperated. "He isn't who you need to be worrying about."

"Can you take him down?" If Hiei said yes, Kuwabara would laugh in his face.

"Only as a last resort." The Jagan flared beneath its wards, briefly, and Kuwabara thought of Kurama's brains liquefying and dripping out his ears.

"Yeah," Kuwabara said. "Let's not try that." He concentrated on the pulse of reiki in his blood and the force of the kekkai surrounding them. Kurama stood only a few feet away, leaning forward into the invisible barrier and Kuwabara could feel every ounce of force the youko was exerting. Something about that was off, something was missing, but Kuwabara couldn't figure out what. "We need a plan," he said.

"Drop the kekkai," Hiei ordered.

And okay, yeah, it was juvenile, but when Hiei started snapping orders Kuwabara's first instinct was mainly to be contrary. "No. Why?"

"We can't stand here and stare at each other all night."

Kuwabara frowned. Kurama was pressed against the barrier, but it was no more pressure than you'd get if someone was leaning against a glass door. He could keep the kekkai up for at least a few hours at this rate, assuming nothing else came along that distracted his attention or diverted his reikai away from maintaining it. A stalemate.

No, worse. Because they'd be stuck behind the barrier, waiting for Kurama to magically come to his senses while Kingman's forces were free to give Kurama backup. The kekkai wouldn't hold against a determined attack, and if they came from more than one side, his concentration would be diverted.

Little shrimp had a point. Damnit.

Hiei apparently was following his train of thought – and wasn't that a scary thought? "So we hit him fast, take him down."

"You said yourself you were afraid to fight Kurama," Kuwabara pointed out. "And he's only gotten better since then. All of a sudden you think he's a pushover?"

"I'm not fighting Kurama," Hiei said. "I'm fighting the Queen. Kurama stopped calling the shots." He drew his katana; his arm moved so quickly that it blurred slightly. "So drop the kekkai before I go through it."

"No, stop – look!" Kuwabara snapped his fingers irritably. "We can't stop him this way, not as long as she's controlling him. She's got her threads into him. If we tie him up, she'll just make him fight anyway, maybe hurt him breaking free, and eventually we'll end up killing him by accident just trying to restrain him. We need to break her control."

Hiei snarled, which could pass for agreement if Kuwabara didn't look too closely at the expression on his face. "What do you suggest then?"

"Look, he's not using his youki, right?" That was what was missing. It wasn't that there was a lack of plants for Kurama to play with – the swamp just a few meters away would have kept him supplied against a hundred opponents, let alone the two of them. If Kurama had been using his powers against them, they'd have been dragged underground by overgrown roots and left to smother in the dirt by now, kekkai or no. "So one of us should be able to hold our own against him for a little while." Hiei was faster than Kurama, Kuwabara stronger. Alone, one of them could probably hold out for a reasonable amount of time. "I'll stay here, you go find Urameshi."

"You think you can take Kurama on yourself."

Kuwabara made a mental note to take serious offense at the tone in Hiei's voice later, when they weren't about to die horribly. "I think you're faster than I am and that you can go in, get Urameshi, and get out again in the time it takes me to sneeze." He grit his teeth. "But hey, if you think I'd be better able to defeat the Kingman and his minions than you, then by all fucking means-"

The fire demon glanced over his shoulder toward them mountain, a curiously blank expression on his face. "If you die, Kurama's going to be emotional."

Kuwabara grinned. "Then you better hurry." He didn't give any warning; he just let the kekkai fall.

Hiei vanished from sight, his movements so fast that Kuwabara couldn't follow them visually without concentrating. He could feel Hiei's youki for a minute like a receding flame at his back.

Kurama surged forward impossibly fast, moving from stationary to attack mode almost faster than Kuwabara could process. Not as fast as Hiei or Urameshi – Superman had nothing on those two; faster than a speeding bullet nothing – but faster than Kuwabara could move. Fast enough.

He had time to dodge only because he'd been expecting Kurama to rush him. He ducked low, avoiding the blow Kurama was aiming at his face, braced his hands against the ground and swung his leg out, knocking Kurama's feet out from under him.

The youko fell, his legs cutting a swath in the sand as he slid down. Fell. Kurama put ballerinas and martial artists to shame. He'd taught Kuwabara that move and how to counter it.

That answers that, Kuwabara thought with grim satisfaction, pushing himself back up onto his feet and ignoring the sand that clung to his palm. I'm not fighting Kurama. I'm fighting the Queen. His chances of living through the next hour or two were looking better every minute.

A few feet away, Kurama rose from the sand, the skin on his left leg scraped red and beaded with blood.

Kuwabara backed off a few steps, letting the youko pace him step for step until they were nearly moving in synch. "So is this the part where I say 'Oh, Kurama, I know you're in there somewhere' and you clutch your head and stagger around until you break her control by sheer force of will and I swoon or something?" He considered that. "I'm not swooning, I don't care what the movies say." He stepped sideways instead of backwards and Kurama almost stumbled before mimicking him. "So can your black widow monster woman hear us?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Or is she too busy biting Kingman's head off?"

Kurama swung at him, his full weight behind the blow. Kuwabara grabbed him by the wrist and used the youko's forward momentum to throw him forward, sending the youko crashing to the ground. "Or – hey, she's not biting Urameshi's head off, is she? Because Keiko'd never stand for it."

Provoking Kurama was almost as much fun as provoking Hiei, but a lot harder. Kuwabara had made something of an art form of it over the years. This was too easy to be any fun, though. Kurama never would have let a stupid joke like that taunt him into a reaction.

"You know," Kuwabara said, huffing irritably and planting on hand on his hip, "other guys get to rescue hot red-headed girls and wake them with a kiss. I get Kurama the Wonder Puppet trying to disembowel me. There's no justice."

Kurama heard that one. The youko's next attack was a bit more emphatic and a bit less clumsy. Kurama actually growled as he surged to his feet and dove at Kuwabara, getting his arms around the human's waist and knocking them both into the dirt. Kuwabara winced mentally before he swung, cracking Kurama across the jaw with a right hook that made the youko's head snap back.

With a little effort Kuwabara managed to shove Kurama off him. He rolled with him and grabbed Kurama's wrists, holding them against the youko's chest. "All right, all right, stop helping her, Kurama. I promise not to compare you to any more fairy-tale princesses, all right?" He grimaced as Kurama tried to pull free and tightened his grip. It would be too easy to hurt Kurama by accident this way. "I don't suppose you want to sit quietly and wait for the others to get back, huh?"

Kurama bucked underneath him and Kuwabara barely managed to twist in time to block Kurama's knee with his hip – "Fighting like a girl!" – and Kurama took advantage of his distraction to wrench one hand free and dig his claws into Kuwabara's upper arm.

It was a minor wound, but it still hurt and Kuwabara hissed through his teeth as Kurama raked his hand down the length of his arm, shredding the sleeve of his jacket and gouging the skin beneath.

"Not the clothes!" Kuwabara grabbed at Kurama's wrist, grimacing slightly at the blood smearing across his fingers. "I've already lost an entire outfit because of you people and a brand new pair of sneakers, and now I have to replace my favorite coat, too?"

Kurama snarled and lunged upward, pushing against the hand Kuwabara still held pressed against his chest.

Kuwabara jerked backwards just as Kurama's teeth snapped shut half an inch from his face, nearly tearing a chunk of skin from his cheek. It was as much surprise as anything that made him loose his grip, cannibalism having been very low on the list of things Kuwabara was expecting next.

And okay, yeah, just a bite, but damn Kurama's youko form had some sharp teeth.

He rolled away from the youko and pushed himself up with his injured arm, winching slightly, but the muscles were already healing, the skin slowly knitting itself back together. In a few minutes the jacket would be the only casualty.

"Lady," Kuwabara said, wagging a finger at her, "you are seriously tempting my policy against beating up girls."

Kurama paused a few feet away and pointed at something behind Kuwabara's back.

One eye kept warily on Kurama, expecting a trick of some kind, Kuwabara risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Hiei stood on a low hill a few dozen meters away, watching them fight. Kuwabara drew in breath to call out to him, ask what if he was waiting for an invitation or what, when he saw the hair-like black threads running through Hiei's skin and eyes.

Kuwabara threw a hand up in the air, the tattered sleeve of his jacket almost sliding all the way down to his shoulder. "The plan was not hard! Go in, don't get caught by the evil spider-monsters, get Urameshi, get out! Four steps, Hiei! What part was it exactly that confused you?" He resisted the urge to flip Hiei off and settled for yelling "You little midget!" as loudly as he could.

Okay. Bad, meet worse.

Hiei's head was tilted to the side, his eyes half-closed. One leg lifted like a marionette on a string and jerked forward; his whole body spasmed slightly, his arms flopping at his sides.

Then he straightened and vanished, moving too fast to see, too fast for Kuwabara to avoid.

~~~~

To be continued in Counterplay

With any luck it won't take me seven months to update the next chapter. ^_^

chaoscentral @ 2005-12-22T02:29:00

2005-12-22T02:58:14Z

Title: The Other Side of Reality, Chapter Four
Pairing: None
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: "Yeah," Yuusuke said. "I think he's in trouble."

The Other Side of Reality
Part Four: In which Yuusuke has a "stupid, stupid, bad!" plan and Kurama is introduced to the enemy

"It gets better," Kuwabara said, then he reached past Yuusuke and flattened his hand against the wood. He felt the nausea coil through his stomach and this time, since he was expecting it, he could actually feel the skin on his palm splitting apart. It didn't hurt, although it did make the skin on the back of his neck crawl, and there was a lingering ache when he pulled his hand away to display the strange symbols to his teammates.

Hiei's eyes narrowed. "That's a gateway spell."

Yuusuke stared at Kuwabara's hand for a minute. "Huh. That's something new."

"Huh," Kuwabara echoed sourly. The skin was already healing, the oddly intricate symbols that had appeared as if carved into the palm of his hand fading into thin white lines. In a few minutes more the skin would be pink and clean, and marked only by the crisscrossing lines of his palm. The blood remained as the wounds healed, and Kuwabara wiped his hand on his jeans before it could dry.

Yuusuke poked tentatively at the door with one finger. "I don't sense any youki," he said doubtfully, splaying his hand to rest flat against the door. He pulled his hand away unmarked and wiggled his fingers. "I guess I'm not special enough."

There were dozens of things Kuwabara could have said to answer that. Sadly, Hiei beat him to it, and wasn't even a bastard about it. For once.

"The reaction is probably connected to your psychic abilities." The fire demon studied the door with a typically inscrutable expression. "It's possible that you had an empathic experience."

Yuusuke nodded. "I don't know what that means."

"He thinks I'm tapping into Kurama on the other side."

Hiei didn't exactly nod in agreement, but he didn't get the 'you're too stupid to be allowed to live' look, either.

"Okay, so somewhere in your bathroom – which isn't there anymore – someone is slicing Kurama's hands up into pretty decorative patterns?"

"It was a gateway spell," Hiei repeated.

"So your bathroom is in the Makai?" Yuusuke said skeptically.

Kuwabara gave Urameshi and the door equally baleful looks.

"No." Hiei had the pained expression he always adopted when forced to explain things. It clearly said he was wondering why he hadn't killed them all and returned to the makai years ago. Then he paused. "Probably not."

"It's gonna take weeks to get the smell out," Kuwabara sighed. "Forget bleach. I'll have to find out what Genkai uses to get all the demon blood out of the temple floors."

"Probably not? We're sitting here scratching our asses while Kurama is who-knows-where-"

"Possibly the Makai," Hiei interjected, "or another dimension."

"What is this?" Kuwabara asked rhetorically, "Star Trek?"

"Or another planet entirely," Hiei added. "It's not inconceivable, if the spellcaster were sufficiently powerful."

Kuwabara gaped at him for a minute. "You're just being a jerk now, aren't you? You're totally making this crap up just to freak me – what are you doing?"

Urameshi casually pointed an index finger at the bathroom door. "We want the door open, right?"

"Door open, yes! House and neighborhood demolished, no. Put that thing away!"

"You're overreacting."

"You're trying to blow up my house!"

"Just the door!"

Kuwabara threw his hands up in disgust. "That's bad enough! This is your plan? Blowing up bits and pieces of my house is your plan?"

"Hey, do you want Kurama back or not?"

"Yes! And that's why I don't want you shooting spirit balls the size of your huge yet hollow head into the room he's trapped in!"

Urameshi smirked. "I can make the spirit gun non-fatal, remember?"

"Can you guarantee it won't piss off what's done this and provoke it into destroying the room and everything in it?"

"Oh." Urameshi paused. "That's probably a bad idea."

Kuwabara glared. "You don't say."

"Opening the door is probably ill-advised," Hiei spoke up.

Kuwabara glanced over his shoulder, irritated to find himself in agreement. "Why?"

"Yeah," Urameshi echoed. "Why?"

Kuwabara decided he really didn't want to be in agreement with either one of them.

"The door may be keeping us out," Hiei said, "but it also means that whatever is inside that room expects us to come in that way."

"That room doesn't exist anymore," Urameshi said.

Hiei shrugged, casting Kuwabara a blatantly doubtful look. "That's not the most accurate statement."

Kuwabara flipped him off.

Urameshi crossed his arms and began to look testy. "So what the fuck is the most accurate statement?"

"I don't know. But attempting to interfere with the situation before we understand it is-"

"What we always do?"

"Inordinately stupid."

Kuwabara grinned at Urameshi. "Yeah. What we always do."

****

The thing in Kuwabara's room roared again, an angry, challenging bellow, followed by the sound of it throwing itself against the door. Kurama glanced upwards, crinkling the note in his hand as he curled his fingers into fists.

He was working under the assumption that he had been pulled into a pocket dimension, a bubble in space and time created by an outside force. He supposed it had to be intentional, though he didn't know anyone they'd pissed off lately who could be so powerful.

Summoning spells, on the other hand, were cheap and easy. Humans without an ounce of spiritual or magical talent cast them all the time, trying to enlist demonic aid in their plans for glory and vengeance. Summoning spells also went wrong very easily.

Spectacularly wrong.

Gone to Genkai's. Meet me there.

It had been Saturday morning when he stepped into the bathroom, but a glance outside the window had shown him students in uniform on their way to class, and the typical mid-afternoon rush hour of cars and bicycles. It had to be at least Monday morning, then.

For the amount of damage he was witnessing to be done, however, a far greater amount of time had to have passed. The house looked as if it had been in a state of massive disrepair for years.

He slid Kuwabara's cell phone into his pocket and folded the wrinkled note in half, tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans.

There was insufficient evidence to support either theory. For now all he could do was remain alert and wary, and try not to take any part of his situation at face value.

Gone to Genkai's.

No matter how much he wanted to.

The floor sank slightly beneath his feet, rotting floorboards barely supporting him as he walked to the front door. The front hallway was dim, and moldy, the air damp. The long, narrow windows set on either side of the front door were cracked, one nothing more than a collection of spiderwebs that made it impossible to see through. Kurama saw the way the glass was bulging slightly outwards, and figured the glass must have been struck from the inside.

Several pairs of shoes were kicked into a corner; Kurama recognized Kuwabara's boots and sneakers, and a pair of what Kurama graciously supposed could be called tennis shoes if one were willing to be lenient. A pair of Kurama's boots was set neatly alongside the wall, underneath the coat rack.

He turned the doorknob and was unsurprised when it turned, but would not open.

The ceiling shook as whatever was upstairs threw itself against the door again and Kurama tipped his head back thoughtfully. No regular door would withstand that much violence. Much like the bathroom door.

Interesting.

Well then. Perhaps there was something he was overlooking.

He retraced his steps upstairs, keeping one eye on the ceiling grill. He rubbed the toe of one boot thoughtfully over the grill beneath his feet as well, focusing his sight down into the darkness below him. He could make out metal going down a long, long way and not a glimpse of the kitchen.

Well, that made as much sense as the non-existent attic, he supposed.

He stopped outside Kuwabara's room, listening to the sound of something large breathing just a few inches away. He sensed no youki, and no reiki either for that matter. This close he should have been able to smell whatever was on the other side of the door, but the only thing his senses picked up was a heavy rasping.

He was missing something.

The thing behind the door whined piteously and threw itself at the door again. Kurama slid his fingers over the doorknob, turning it slowly, but there was no click of a latch disengaging, and when he pushed, the door did not give.

He glanced across the hall at the barricaded bathroom, and down toward his own room.

Bright blue paint was splashed across his door, in short, sloppy hiragana.

'Pick up the phone.'

In his pocket, Kuwabara's cell phone began to vibrate.

****

"You know," Yuusuke said thoughtfully, "I don't think this is a good idea."

Kuwabara beside him, head tipped back to survey the blood currently pouring out of his ceiling. "It was your idea."

Yuusuke rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually go along with it. I mean, look how you reacted when I tried to knock down the door."

Hiei grunted irritably in a way that meant they should stop talking. Perched upside down on the ceiling, just inches away from the source of the gravity-defying blood, he didn't spare them the attention it would require to glare them into submission.

Yuusuke leaned over and lowered his voice. "Also, did you know he could do that?"

"Sure," Kuwabara said. "Can't all bugs?" He caught Yuusuke's eye and they both snickered.

A spatter of half-congealed blood smacked across Kuwabara's chest and Yuusuke's shoulder, provoking a disgusted shout. Yuusuke tugged at his shirt wondering if supernatural blood stained worse than the regular kind, while Kuwabara snarled incoherently at Hiei and shuddered theatrically before grabbing a hand towel and scrubbing himself off.

Yuusuke made a face. "That's gross, Hiei. I mean, what if this stuff was acidic or something. Or poisonous?" They'd fought an ice wyrm once whose blood had frozen whatever it touched. That had sucked. "We could be poisoned now."

"A pity." The fire demon didn't sound particularly upset about it. "I need a lever."

A lever? Yuusuke raised an eyebrow at Hiei, who was reaching into the source of the blood with one hand, feeling around. "That's blood, Hiei!"

"I hadn't noticed." Hiei pulled his hand free and caught the knife Kuwabara tossed him, eyeing it suspiciously. It must have passed his test because a second later Hiei jammed it into the ceiling and pried a board loose.

"So knocking the door down would piss off the supernatural badness, but ripping up the ceiling won't?" Yuusuke asked no one in particular.

"Yes," Kuwabara said. "Because no one is shooting huge balls of spiritual energy at it this time."

A second board joined the first one on the floor, and Kuwabara squatted next to them to poke around. "Wood's rotted through," he said. "We probably could've broken in with our bare hands."

"Some of us can break through normal wood with our bare hands," Yuusuke preened slightly, and flexed a bicep while his friend scowled. Kuwabara really was easy to aggravate sometimes. He watched as Hiei pried a third board loose and casually enough that it was probably intentional, dropped it on Kuwabara's head. "How's it look, Hiei?"

The demon grunted. "We're not getting in this way." He swept at the trickle of blood, smearing it across the rusted metal that had been revealed beneath the boards.

"That's not supposed to be there, right?" Yuusuke didn't know much about construction, but he'd been thrown through enough walls to know that most houses didn't have metal sheeting. "If it's rusted, maybe we could break through?"

Hiei dropped from the ceiling, executing a perfect spin in midair and landing on his feet. "I doubt the condition matters. We should have been able to break through the door easily, yet it resisted our best efforts."

"This probably won't be any different," Kuwabara finished. "Great."

"Told you it was a bad plan," Yuusuke said. He smirked as both his teammates glared at him with identical expressions of annoyance. They did that a lot, actually. One day he'd tell them and watch their heads explode. "So, I'm all out of ideas."

"Pity," Hiei said. "Your last one was so brilliant."

"Hey," he objected mildly, but the ringing of the phone cut him off.

"Get it," Kuwabara said. "It's Kurama." He snapped his mouth shut with an audible crack of teeth and blinked at his own words.

****

"Kurama? Is that you?" Yuusuke's voice sounded tinny and distant, like a long distance call made on a cell phone, which it almost certainly was.

"Yuusuke," Kurama said with deep relief. "I've been worried. Is Kuwabara-kun with you?"

"Yeesssss," Yuusuke said slowly, the word becoming a long, drawn-out hiss. "He's been here all along."

Kurama paused. "Yuusuke?"

The voice on the other end of the line deepened, became slick and dark and suggestive. "I'm going to eat your bones, Kurama."

It didn't sound like Yuusuke at all. Even when he was trying to, Yuusuke couldn't manage anything much worse than 'vaguely threatening'. "Who are you?"

"I am a harbinger."

Definitely not Yuusuke. He wouldn't even know what that word meant. "Did you bring me here?"

"I had some help." A low, deep chuckle rolled against Kurama's ear. "However unwilling."

His fingers curled around the mouthpiece of the phone. "If you've hurt anyone-"

"There's nothing you can do to me. I'll see you soon, Kurama."

Something moved in the corner of Kurama's vision and he turned.

A thick, pink rope dangled from the ceiling, writhing slightly, curling in at the tip. Kurama drew back slightly, watching as thin strands of clear fluid dripped down its length and fell through the grill of the floor.

****

Yuusuke snagged the phone off the wall, nearly pulling the cord loose in his hurry. "Kurama?" He said. "Is that you?"

Kurama sounded stressed – in that Kurama way, which didn't sound stressed at all, but Yuusuke had learned how to recognize the vague clues. "Yuusuke. I've been worried. Is Kuwabara-kun with you?"

Yuusuke peered at Kuwabara, who was watching the conversation with a narrow gaze. "Yeah," and he didn't add 'being kinda creepy' but he sure thought it – "he's right here. Listen, where are you?"

The response sounded uncertain. "Yuusuke?"

"Yeah?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm... me?" Yuusuke frowned. "Kurama, where are you?"

"Did you bring me here?"

Yuusuke gripped the mouthpiece of the phone and exchanged a look with his two teammates. "I don't think he's talking to me anymore."

Hiei frowened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you've hurt anyone-"

Okay, now Kurama sounded pissed. Yuusuke wished he could hear the other end of the conversation. Kurama didn't piss off easily, though threatening other people was definitely the fastest way to do it. "Kurama?" he tried again. "Kurama, can you hear me?"

Silence. It was thick and heavy through the phone, weighing on his shoulders as he strained for any little sound, as Kuwabara and Hiei watched him. "Answer me, Kurama."

Something like a t-rex roared, and the line went dead.

"Yeah," Yuusuke said. "I think he's in trouble."

****

end

chaoscentral @ 2005-11-30T23:35:00

2005-12-01T04:51:25Z

Well, it took me long enough, huh?

This is currently at the beta-reader, but any additional c&c would be appreciated!

Title: Variation Part Four: Hanging
Fandom: YYH
Rating: PG-13/R for violence and language
Pairings: None/Gen fic

Previous chapters:

Prologue: Gambit
Part One: The Isolated Pawn
Part Two: Exchange Sacrifice
Part Three: The Captured King

Variation
Part Four: Hanging

"The blunders are all there... waiting to be made."
(Savielly Tartakover)

Wednesday, 10:22 pm

The demon struck, feet slamming into Kuwabara's chest and knocking him onto his back, sending his head slamming against the dirt. His breath was forced out of his lungs with a solid whoosh, and the reiken flickered as his concentration broke.

The demon landed lightly on its feet beside him, straightening smoothly and brushing off its long black coat.

Hiei.

Kuwabara felt a brief surge of relief, followed by a much stronger surge of annoyance. "Why aren't you dead?"

Hiei frowned at him. "Why do you smell like a sewer?"

"Shut up!" Kuwabara leveled a finger at the fire demon, willfully resisting the urge to take a swing at the arrogant little fuck instead. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life." Hiei sheathed his katana and stood. "I'm afraid it may have become a habit after all this time."

"Who asked you?" Kuwabara snarled irritably. He rested his arms on his knees and glared at Hiei from the ground. Now that the fight was over he really, really wanted a bath. And food. And sleep. Mostly a bath. "I thought you were dead."

"Did you grieve?" Hiei mocked him.

"I threw a fucking party. Are you going to tell me what's going on or did you plan on spending the rest of the evening staring at a bunch of dead guys?"

Hiei nudged a corpse with his foot and it burst into flame. Kuwabara scrambled to his feet as every body scattered across the schoolyard began to burn. In seconds there was nothing left of them, and the grass beneath them was unmarked. "Did you manage to get anything out of them or will I have to fill you in from the beginning?"

"You know I'm already beginning to miss thinking you were dead." Kuwabara stood, rolling his shoulder and flexing the fingers of his right hand. "I know some guy named Kingman is behind it all and – what?"

Hiei raised an eyebrow and pointed.

Kuwabara glanced down and saw the severed tongue still wrapped around his leg. "It's a long story. I asked you once already, you little bastard. Why aren't you dead? I felt you die."

Hiei froze for just a second, and leveled him with a narrow-eyed gaze. "We're going to Genkai's."

That didn't sound like a bad idea to Kuwabara, but he objected on principle anyway. "Shouldn't we be helping Kurama and Urameshi?"

Hiei was already walking away, but he paused to glance over his shoulder. "We need a plan. And unless you want to attract every demon in a thousand-mile radius, you need to bathe."

"I'm definitely missing you being dead. Just so you know."

****

Wednesday, 11:39 pm

The warehouse was lit by pale backup lights, the kind left on at night so that thieves (like Hiei, Kuwabara thought nastily) could see what they were stealing and didn't have to worry about juggling a flashlight and lockpicks.

This particular warehouse also had the added illumination of a dimensional gate.

The gate was an unremarkable little patch of blue swirly light hovering in the air at about chest height. It was large enough for the six-armed wolfman to have come through, although it must have been a tight fit. Hiei and Kuwabara had tracked it down to an empty building in the middle of downtown, and Genkai was incredibly annoyed with herself for never having known it was here. Not that she said anything, but Kuwabara had plenty of experience at seeing Genkai annoyed about something, and he could recognize the expression at a thousand paces.

"It probably wasn't here until recently," Hiei said, breaking his broody silence for the first time since they'd left the temple.

Well, that got everyone's attention, Kuwabara reflected as he and Genkai both snapped their heads around to stare at the fire demon. "Gates don't just form out of nowhere," he said.

"It's not a real gate." Hiei sounded bored. "No wards, no stabilizing spells, no power source. This is a tear in the dimensional barrier, nothing more."

"What? Like Itsuki did?" Kuwabara caught himself before he could summon the reiken, but couldn't help glancing over his shoulder.

Genkai crossed her arms and studied the tear thoughtfully. "This demon you spoke of, the one who called herself the Queen – you think she's powerful enough to have done this?"

"Possibly."

Kuwabara rolled his eyes. "That's very helpful. Thanks."

"She was a Weaver, you said?" Genkai asked, ignoring him.

"That's what they call themselves." Hiei's voice indicated that there were other things they were called. "They manipulate threads of reality. Most of them are little more than glorified illusionists, bending light and sound to their will. Some can manipulate thoughts or emotions, following psychic threads."

"Is that what happened when I thought you were dead?" Kuwabara demanded. "She got inside your head?"

"And yours," Genkai said while Hiei pretended he didn't know what Kuwabara was talking about. "Once she knew Hiei was a Jaganshi she must have realized she could use his connection to you as a weapon."

"We are not connected," Hiei and Kuwabara said and glared at each other.

"It is possible," Hiei said coldly, "that there are some of these Weavers powerful enough to manipulate the dimensional barrier."

A quirked eyebrow was her only reaction. "I take it this is not a usual trait of the race."

Hiei snorted. "The Spirit World would not tolerate a being with that sort of ability for long."

Genkai crossed her arms and studied the pseudo-gate with a dark look not dissimilar to the one she used whenever someone forgot to take their shoes off before entering the temple or when she caught Urameshi raiding her fridge at three in the morning.

She hadn't been surprised to see them arrive at the temple, although she did make Kuwabara undress and hose off in the yard before she let him inside. She'd already known something was happening, since a horde of demons duking it out with one of her students less than a mile from her temple wasn't the sort of thing Genkai missed. They'd briefed her on the specifics, including their suspicion that Kurama and Yuusuke were already a lost cause, then they'd come hunting for the gate Kuwabara had sensed.

Someone was waiting for them on the far side. Kuwabara couldn't sense any youki – not through a gate, he wasn't even sure that was possible – but there was a sensation like spiders crawling under his skin that usually meant someone with some nasty intentions was ahead of him. Hiei knew it as well, although the fire demon tended to be a little paranoid on the best of days. The grim anticipation Kuwabara could see in his eyes was probably just another indication of mental illness.

Uh-oh, now he was getting the Glare. He prodded his mental shields just to make certain that last thought hadn't leaked out. No. Probably Hiei was just being cranky for the hell of it. Well, he knew how to deal with that.

Kuwabara glared back.

"Stop acting like idiots." Genkai's gravelly voice sounded out of thin air somewhere behind him, and Kuwabara fought the urge to jump six inches into the air like a frightened cat. He lost.

Hiei gave him a disdainful glance, obviously declaring himself the winner. Kuwabara considered flipping him off, but that would mean acknowledging him.

The two of us are about to launch an invasion of a demonic stronghold, which is in another world and guarded by at least two powerful demons and their minions. All this with no backup and without our usual team. Kuwabara had the sudden realization that he really did not want Hiei to be the last person he saw before he died. Maybe one of the bad guys will wander in front of my line of vision.

The gate was surprisingly undefended from this side. Kuwabara had expected at least a couple of minions to be guarding it, especially if the Kingman was using it to send troops through (which he was, there were lingering trails of youki hanging in the air and dripping down the walls), but there was no sign that anyone had remained. Maybe they'd all been caught up in the horde that had come after him earlier.

Or maybe it was a trap.

The bunch that had come after him hadn't been that smart, but Hiei's story indicated there were more powerful demons involved than the pack of animalistic D-class minions who'd come after him. If nothing else, the fact that they'd taken down Kurama was a pretty good sign that someone on the other end of this attack probably had at least a few brain cells to rub together.

And minions, he thought darkly. Let's not forget the minions.

Genkai faced the gate, legs straight, hands clasped behind her back. "I don't suppose either one of you will live through this. At least try to take them out with you." She raised an eyebrow and glared meaningfully at the gateway. "I'm missing my show. Are we done?"

Kuwabara sighed. But then, considering what kind of people he had on his side, the demons and minions were probably not his biggest problem.

Then Genkai kicked him through the gate.

****

Wednesday 11:48 pm

The gateway was crudely formed at best, Kuwabara decided in the part of his mind that wasn't contemplating his own imminent demise. Obviously not as well-formed as the ones the Reikai used or even the carefully crafted breach Sensui, in all his wacky insanity, had had Itsuki create in order to bring hell to earth.

The first few times he'd ventured into the Makai had been courtesy of the
Reikai, either on Koenma's orders or with his knowledge, and the gates used in those instances had dropped them into the demon world almost instantly. Sensui's portal had been different, had required actual travel across the distance from the point of breach to the barrier and then through the barrier and into the Makai.

This was like falling out a window and into a lightning storm.

This was something else entirely, and as Kuwabara tried to twist himself right-side up he decided he didn't care for it. Energy discharge from the ragged edges of reality crawled across his skin, and all in all it felt a lot like being dragged backwards through an electrified rosebush.

Then he was out and falling for real, because the gate happened to be about four meters off the ground.

A frantic mid-air summersault let him hit the ground with his feet instead of his head, but he overbalanced and ended up on one knee. And four meters wasn't that high, so maybe the gateway had added some velocity or something because that really hurt.

He rubbed his knee and winced while Hiei minced about on a tree somewhere to his left.

"If you think you can stay upright," the fire demon began.

"Oh, bite me."

"I didn't know humans did that," Hiei said.

Kuwabara shot him as nasty look as he could manage and scanned their surroundings. They were on the edge of the demon world equivalent of a swamp (just like a human world swamp, only with man-eating trees and leeches the size of your head), near the foot of a mountain and the geography made his mind boggle slightly, but whatever. If he concentrated, he could make out several youki signatures deep inside the mountain. Kurama was there, but something was strange about him, almost like... a net? Only not.

And then his concentration shifted slightly, to the youki approaching them.

"We're under attack!" And maybe it was less a manly warning than a startled yelp, but hey, at least he'd sensed them before Hiei.

"I know," Hiei said calmly. He'd already drawn his katana without Kuwabara noticing, and had dropped to the ground at some point. "I was starting to warn you when you invited me to bite you."

"Trust me, Hiei," Kuwabara said through gritted teeth. "That was not an invitation."

The demon that appeared from the edge of the swamp was tall, easily half again as tall as Kuwabara himself. Spindly arms with three elbows hung limply at its sides, while legs that bent backwards moved forward in slow, staggering steps. The demon's head lolled sickeningly on its neck, lips parted and eyes blank.

Hiei made a disgusted sound. "I've faced that one before. She called him Bishop. I'm sure I killed him."

"So what we have here is a zombie demon?" There were probably words to describe just how incredibly horrifying that concept was, but Kuwabara was too busy freaking out to think of them.

Hiei's Jagan flared as he pulled aside the wardings, bright purple light that washed over his face and made him look even more evil than he already did. Kuwabara risked a sideways glance at him, since Bishop seemed to be taking his time. The third eye was wide and a vivid violet, smaller than his real eyes, but rounder. It almost made him look younger, if such a thing was even possible.

"He's covered in enchantments," Hiei said. "There is something wrong with this situation."

"Yeah," Kuwabara said. "The enchanted dead guy would be my guess. Unless you meant the stink; I could go either way."

Bishop finally seemed to notice they were there. Its head still swayed and bobbed with each lurching step, but its eyes had suddenly gained a spark of life and zeroed in on Kuwabara. The demon gurgled, a sick, watery sound that seemed to come straight from its lungs.

Kuwabara snapped his fingers and was rewarded with the warm spark of the reiken. He wrapped his fist around it, feeling the energy cycle back and forth from the sword to his flesh. "Out of curiosity, what can this guy do?"

"I don't know," Hiei said, still regarding the demon with a narrow-eyed glare. "I killed him before he could try anything last time."

"Great."

"If it makes you feel better, he's probably the weakest of our opponents."

"Even better," Kuwabara said dryly. "He came back from the dead and he's the weakest of our opponents."

Hiei snorted dismissively and sheathed his sword long enough to retie the Jagan's wards. "This won't be a problem. You can wait here if you're worried."

Kuwabara sputtered. "Hey! Wait a-" A flicker of youki was all the warning he had before Hiei moved, and Kuwabara dodged to the side as the demon flew past, moving fast enough to be nothing more than a blur of black and white.

"Okay. Fine." Kuwabara planted one hand on his hip and glared up the hill. "You go ahead and deal with the minor threat. I'll just be over here conserving my strength for the real enemy."

Bishop staggered as Hiei's katana sliced across its chest, its head flopping backwards. Hiei flickered back into sight, weapon clenched in one fist and an odd expression on his face. Kuwabara frowned as Bishop's head straightened and the demon stepped forward again.

There was no mark. Hiei's strike hadn't caused any damage. Kuwabara regarded the long-legged demon with a renewed sense of wariness. Hiei may have been a complete asshole, but he knew more about cutting people in half than Kurama did about plants.

Hiei turned to attack again, katana flashing. Bishop blocked the attack, one arm held up right, the blade striking against a bony forearm. The blade struck with a scraping sound of metal against metal and Hiei jumped back without making a mark on his opponent.

Bishop ignored him and continued its slow advance, feet dragging in the dirt. There was something inexorable about the demon's advance, as if it was on a mission.

Kuwabra glanced over his shoulder, realization making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "He's trying to get through the gate!" He shouted a warning to Hiei, positioning himself before the demon.

Except he really wasn't a demon anymore, just an animated corpse with only the barest trace of what it had once been. There was only a bare trace of youki, slick and stagnant beneath something sweeter that Kuwabara could barely sense, and which must be the enchantments Hiei had mentioned. He focused his sixth sense, scouring the aura around the creature, finding more of that energy strangely... sticky. Like a spiderweb.

"Hiei?"

"What?" Hiei's response was a barely discernable snarl of frustration – undoubtedly he was annoyed that this weakest opponent hadn't had the good grace to give up and die like a good little minion.

"These Weavers – are they like spiders?"

"No."

Wow, thought Kuwabara. If contempt were cash, I'd be rolling in it. "Their enchantments, short stuff. Do their enchantments feel like spider webs? Sticky? Web-shaped?"

"That is the stupidest-" Hiei paused. "A little."

Bishop's advance was taking him directly toward Kuwabara, though his pace was so lethargic that Kuwabara couldn't imagine he'd be able to manage the four-meter leap up to the gate.

He let the demon get a few steps closer, then stabbed forward with the reiken, focusing on the blade and extending it. The spirit sword pierced the demon's shoulder, severing the same lanky arm that had withstood the blade of Hiei's katana.

Oh, he was so going to rub that in if they lived through this.

"Looks like this thing's not impervious to spiritual energy," Kuwabara said smugly.

No blood flowed from the wound, but that probably wasn't surprising, since it was dead and all. Bishop didn't seem upset by the loss of its limb, or even aware of it. The demon just took a few more lurching steps toward him.

Kuwabara dove forward, ducking under Bishop's remaining arm – and when was the last time an opponent was actually taller than him, anyway? Byakko? No, no, Yakumo at least – and drove the reiken up and inward, piercing the demon's chest and exploding out its back. He shoved, dragging the reiken up, slicing through bone and flesh and leaving a gaping, ragged would more than a foot long through the creature's torso. Kuwabara pulled the reiken free and dodged to the side, slicing through the demon's neck.

Bishop's head hit the dirt with a heavy thud. Then the rest of him took another step toward Kuwabara.

"What the-" Kuwabara backpedaled to avoid a blow. "It's supposed to die when I do that!"

"You can't kill it, idiot!" Hiei said from somewhere behind Bishop. "It's already dead."

"Well, if you have a brilliant idea, now would be the time!" Kuwabara snapped back, parrying another blow. Bishop slammed its remaining arm against the reiken, slicing through its own flesh. "This is sick."

He felt the surge of Hiei's youki just in time to fling himself backward before Bishop burst into flame. He landed heavily on his back, unharmed except for his dignity because really, that was graceful. "Thanks for the warning, Hiei."

What was left of Bishop jerked and collapsed, Hiei's demon fire destroying the flesh and bone construct. Youki sparked inside the flames, the strands of enchantment breaking as the body they were affixed to was destroyed. The flame burnt itself out in minutes, not so much as ashes remaining of Bishop.

"That," Hiei said, "is my brilliant idea."

"Yeah, yeah. 'Oh, let's set it on fire'. That's your answer to everything, isn't it?" Kuwabara pushed himself up off the ground, wiping dirt off his jeans. "It's slightly more creative than 'hit it till it dies,' I'll give you that." He used his sixth sense to prod at the space where Bishop had been, ascertaining for himself that there remained no trace of youki. Bishop was gone totally, and the sticky-sweet feel of the enchantments was fading.

Slipping away. Kuwabara held out a tentative hand, ignoring the annoyed look Hiei was giving him – with the Jagan, Hiei would certainly have known if anything dangerous were lingering behind. Kuwabara's sixth sense was good only for the barest impression of what these enchantments had been, ghost-like touches and sensations, whereas Hiei had been able to see each individual 'thread' clearly.

Regardless, he paused, testing the air where Bishop had stood. He could almost feel the strands of the web lingering behind, slipping over his hand as they vanished.

"Threads, huh?" Kuwabara asked. "I still say it feels like spiderwebs."

Hiei frowned. "Semantics."

"Maybe. Webs have... connotations."

"Are you scared of spiders?" Hiei smirked.

Kuwabara felt the last few strands slip over his hands, clinging gently but not pulling at him – though he had no doubt they could if he had been their focus. The strands slid away, rejoining something else, becoming part of another enchantment. Weaving into another spiderweb.

"Nets," he murmured.

Power flared at the edge of the swamp, cloying and thick. Even warded, Hiei sensed it, his eyes widening as he turned to face the flare of power.

"Nets," Kuwabara said again. "Or webs, or whatever. When I sensed Yuusuke and Kurama earlier, it was like someone had dropped nets of youki over them."

"As with Bishop?" Hiei asked.

"No," Kuwabara said.

Kurama stepped out of the swamp, in full youko form. Silver hair and skin, the nearly transparent silk tunic, and the ethereal golden eyes made him look less like a demon and more like a spirit. He stepped forward with the same deliberate movements that Bishop had, though Kurama did not jerk and falter.

"Worse," Kuwabara added, and he managed to get a kekkai up around them just as Kurama attacked.

end Hanging

to be continued in: The King's Bishop

Zombies in Atlantis

2005-11-30T18:36:37Z

I started this last month, and promptly abandoned it in favor of other, less problematic, stories. I still think it would be great to have a Zombies in Atlantis story, and as soon as I see a little more of the show I'll probably come back to this. After Christmas, maybe.

Anyway, I think John and Rodney versus the Undead would be hilarious. Kind of like Shaun of the Dead in space.

"Zombies," John Sheppard announced breathlessly.

Elizabeth was inclined to dismiss that rather dramatic announcement, as she often ignored Sheppard when he'd experienced a little too much downtime and spent far too much time in the science labs with Rodney and Doctor Zalenka. In fact, the zombie issue should have been written off just like past incidents, such as the day they decided to spend their downtime trying to see if they could convince Atlantis to let them reroute the plumbing in Kavanaugh's quarters so the toilet would flow into the shower (it had – she'd heard the howls of a dripping and disgusting Kavanaugh long before he reached the control room), or the time McKay appeared in her doorway, sort of hopping on one foot as he skidded to a stop, just long enough to announce that Major Sheppard had gone a little insane for some reason and was perhaps a bit homicidal and could she possibly have security hunt him down and restrain him? Sheppard's frustrated shout of "McKay you absolute bastard!" had cut that interesting conversation short and sent Rodney running, with John in hot pursuit, several rodent-shaped robots clinging to his shirt and hair.

That was when she'd started ignoring them, operating under the theory that, like most pre-adolescents, they'd stop acting up if she stopped gratifying their behavior with her attention.

Bates, unfortunately, didn't seem to be in on the plan. "Zombies?" the security officer repeated doubtfully.

John nodded, wide-eyed and slightly frantic. He was more tousled than normal, and dressed in civilian clothes – a worn windbreaker, battered sneakers and a t-shirt that proclaimed "Pilots do it at Mach speed" in bold, stylized letters. Elizabeth cast it a slightly disapproving glance but it was technically his downtime, so she didn't say anything.

Bates was still trying to get additional information. "What kind of zombies are we talking about, exactly?"

The look John gave him would probably have caused foliage to wilt. "What, there are different kinds? They were dead and moving and I think one of them tried to eat me."

"Eat you?" Elizabeth asked.

John help up his arm. The windbreaker was torn and ragged. "Tried. Bullets don't work, by the way. Can I have a flamethrower?"

"We don't have any flamethrowers in the weapons inventory, sir," Bates said, then he was on the radio, barking for a response team.

Elizabeth could no longer, in good conscience, claim anything was impossible although she denied the existence of Santa and the Tooth Fairy under the heading of plausible deniability (although just about every other mythological figure had turned out to be a Goa'uld, so she was just waiting for the day, she really was) but really, this was a bit much. "Where were these zombies, Major? And why didn't Atlantis alert us to the situation?"

"How should I know? The entire city locks up because a biologist catches an Athosian STD, but zombies are allowed to roam freely. Maybe the Ancients never watched any Romero films."

chaoscentral @ 2005-09-28T19:09:00

2005-09-28T23:08:36Z

Title: The Other Side of Reality, Part Three
Fandom: YYH/Silent Hill
Pairing: None
Warnings: Horror, violence, gore.

The Other Side of Reality
Part Three: In which Kurama contemplates interior design and Kuwabara calls the cavalry.

Kurama glanced over his shoulder at the cupboard beneath the sink. The doors were still closed, but think, fleshy tentacles were slithering around the door and feeling the sink, the floor, the little throw rug beside the tub. They slid farther into the room, apparently long enough that whatever creature they belonged to didn't have to venture out of the cupboard to investigate.

He had looked inside that cupboard just a moment ago, and aside from some blood and gore, it had been empty.

One of the tentacles curled around one half of the corpse of the creature Kurama had killed and dragged it into the cupboard so quickly Kurama took a step back. Sounds came from behind those mostly closed doors – the sound a dog makes when it's gnawing on a bone. Whatever was living under his sink was hungry and ate flesh. That was good to know. A second tentacle grabbed the remaining half of the corpse and it too vanished beneath the sink.

Another clatter of falling plaster, drew his attention back to the wall. The summoning circle was completely hollow now, the blank space within the inner circle had crumbled away, leaving a dark and empty space. Kurama could see only a few feet inside, but what he saw was not the linen closet, but instead a rough and narrow tunnel. The walls were rough and uneven, as if they'd been dug by hand. An unsettling thought.

Now that it had opened the tunnel, the steady drip of blood slowed. The symbols remained unscathed.

Kurama briefly evaluated his options. He could remain here, hope that whatever was under the sink was as easy to deal with as its predecessor had been, and continue trying to break down the door. Odds were good that eventually the others would figure out something was wrong and stage a rescue attempt, although at present, Kurama seriously doubted even Yuusuke was strong enough to open that door.

Or he could exit through the tunnel.

Beneanth the sink, the chewing sounds stopped, and the growling started again. The tentacles, which had been mostly at rest while the creature fed, began to explore again.

Kurama stepped into the tub, narrowly avoiding one lashing tentacle. There was still a slick layer of blood coating the bottom of the tub, making his bare toes curl slightly before he sternly reminded himself he had certainly dealt with nastier things. He examined the circle one more time, committing the symbols to memory, tracing a finger along the outer edge of the portal, then hefted himself up and inside.

It was narrow enough that he had to crawl, and his shoulders scraped against the walls if he wasn't careful. But the dirt was hard packed and rock solid – not freshly dug. It was as if the tunnel had been there for many years, waiting for someone to cross through the summoning circle.

Of all the things he hadn't wanted to find in his bathroom...

It was dark enough not that he couldn't see ahead of him; the light from the bathroom had reached only a few feet inside, then abruptly vanished. So when the tunnel dropped out from under him, he didn't realize it in time to stop himself from falling.

****

Kuwabara pulled the door open a half second before Yuusuke knocked – some little psychic parlor trick his sister and Genkai both tended to pull all the time, and once which annoyed the hell out of Yuusuke. He had his mouth open to say something to that effect, when he noticed that the whole damn house, Kuwabara included, reeked of blood. It rocked him back on his heels and made the demon part stir restlessly in the back of his mind. He shook his head to clear it and focused on Kuwabara.

The human was barefoot and wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans. There was a smear of blood on his shoulder and Yuusuke eyed him quickly checking for injuries. Kuwabara hadn't mentioned any, but hey, you could never be sure. "So," he said by way of opening gambit, "Kurama's hogging the bathroom?"

Kuwabara rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Yeah, you know how he gets with the bubblebath." He stepped away from the door, letting Yuusuke past. He glared out and up. "Hiei."

"Huh?" Yuusuke frowned over his shoulder as he felt the flicker of the fire demon's ki from out of nowhere. Feeling Hiei was like someone standing at his back with a candle, a warmth between his shoulder blades. He hadn't noticed it until now – he hadn't been looking for it – but evidently Kuwabara had.

Hiei dropped out of the sky and darted into the house so quickly that a normal human would have seen nothing more than a black flicker, if that much. He paused just inside the doorway, ignoring Kuwabara as he nodded briefly to Yuusuke. Kuwabara closed the door and glared at his back.

"This place reeks," Yuusuke said flatly.

Kuwabara frowned. "What?"

Hiei and Yuusuke both stared at him. "Blood," the fire demon said, finally, his tone carefully reserved in a way Yuusuke didn't like.

"It stinks, Kuwabara," Yuusuke said. "The whole place. It's like a slaughterhouse. You didn't notice?"

Kuwabara jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Come take a look at this."

The kitchen was pretty much the same as the last time Yuusuke had seen it, except for the blood dripping down the walls. He followed Kuwabara's finger and looked up. There was a brown patch on the ceiling, and blood was coming out of it, flowing across the ceiling to the walls, and then dripping down in what had to violate some law of physics, even if Yuusuke couldn't tell you which.

"It's spreading," Kuwabara said flatly. "I measured it as well as I could while I was waiting for you to get here and as near as I can tell, the rot is spreading only as far as the walls of the upstairs bathroom."

"The blood?" Yuusuke asked, blinking and stepping back, just in case all that blood decided to stop violating the laws of physics.

"It's coagulating," Hiei said.

Kuwabara nodded once. "Once it hits the walls it starts getting thick, and by the time it hits the floor it's pretty much… congealed."

Yuusuke risked a glance at the floor by the refrigerator, where a particularly thick stream of blood was flowing into the floor. All along the baseboards was dried and drying puddles of blood. The fresher blood pooled on top of the dried, forming little mounds. "You're gonna need to hire a cleaning service when this is over."

Kuwabara grimaced at him. "Thanks for volunteering."

"Dude," Yuusuke said seriously, "there are limits even to our friendship."

"The bathroom," Hiei said, preventing Kuwabara from attempting to smack Yuusuke upside the head. "Show me."

"I thought you said it was gone," Yuusuke said.

The human shrugged. "I can't sense inside it. All I feel is a void."

"As if the room were empty?" Hiei asked.

"No." Kuwabara stopped at the top of the stairs and let them both examine the bathroom door. "An empty room still has feeling. A sense of space, lingering memories. This is as if nothing exists on the other side of that door."

Yuusuke gave the door an experimental shake, then kicked it just to see what would happen. It didn't even shake on its hinges. "Hiei, try cutting it open."

Kuwabara was already shaking his head as Hiei drew one of his katana and slashed at the door. No mark, no cut. Hiei didn't look surprised, but he did look annoyed. Yuusuke figured it was less that he failed and more that Kuwabara'd been right about him failing.

"It gets better," Kuwabara said, then he reached past Yuusuke and flattened his hand against the wood.

****

Kurama woke up in the kitchen.

He was lying on his back beside the refrigerator, his head tilted to the side and facing the door. For a moment everything was blurry and indistinct, but as he pulled himself up from unconsciousness the room snapped into focus.

It was… changed. The floor was covered in dirt and grime, the walls were streaked with filth where there were no holes and the wallpaper wasn't ripped away, the appliances were rust covered and decrepit. The windows were covered with handprints and dark brown stains, blocking most of the light and leaving the room feeling even darker and dingier than it was.

Kurama carefully sat up, grimacing at the feel of mold and mud beneath his fingers and the dampness soaking through his pajamas. He stood carefully, but he could already tell he was uninjured from the fall. His loss of consciousness had to be because of the tunnel, not from a head injury.

The tunnel. He scanned the kitchen quickly, eyes catching additional details – the phone cord dangling from the jack in the wall, as it if had been pulled away, the open drawers, the open microwave, crusted with something dark and greasy – and found what he was looking for. Tipping his head back he examined the ceiling, and the blood red summoning circle painted onto the wood. Like the one in the bathroom, this one was carved out in the center, making a tunnel that disappeared into the ceiling.

"I'm not going back that way," he murmured.

He examined the room carefully, searching the countertops and drawers, but found nothing of use. He flipped a long serrated cooking knife over his knuckles for a moment, then slipped a seed form his hair, a thin, supple vine sprouting in his hand. He pulled his hair back into a rough ponytail and wound the vine around it, the vine obeying his touch and holding itself tight. A second vine wound around his forearm and held the knife in place.

He had a suspicion that anything he encountered here would not be friendly.

The hallway and living room were in similar states, rust and water damage covering nearly every surface, fist-sized holes punched through the walls and occasionally the floor. He tested the stairs carefully, but they seemed steady, and he made his way upstairs.

The upstairs was drastically altered. The floors were gone, replaced with metal grillwork. He paused on the top step, his heightened senses catching the long faded odor of decay, and Kurama eyed the ceiling above him warily. The same metal grill was there, giving him a nearly unobstructed view of an attic that the house had not had that morning. He paused, listening for footsteps or breathing, but heard nothing.

The doors were also different. The bathroom door had been replaced at some point with a metal one, including a metal frame, and was welded shut. For good measure someone had nailed long planks across it. Kurama tested it quickly, unsurprised when it proved impossible to open.

The pantry door opened easily, showing a few towels and sheets, all stained with the same mold and grime that decorated the rest of the house. He ventured further down the hall, the grill a strange, uncomfortable feeling beneath his bare feet. Kuwabara's room was next, and though the door did not seem strange, and the knob turned beneath his hand, the door would not open.

His own door was open when he approached, a thin swatch of daylight spilling through the crack and lighting the grill of the floor.

Kurama pushed the door open the rest of the way.

His room was nearly unchanged, the only signs of dirt and decay being the floor and walls around the door. His furniture and personal belongings seemed unmarked, and the windows were clear. He crossed the room and peered outside, shading his eyes against the brightness. Outside the house, everything appeared perfectly normal. There were students in school uniforms walking past the front, cars driving down the street. The sky was clear and blue. Judging by the sun, Kurama guessed it to be nearly midday, for what that was worth.

Kurama pulled open the closet door and found that his clothes were as untouched as everything else in the room. Moving quickly, Kurama stripped out of his pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt. He slipped his feet into boots without bothering with socks and laced them up quickly while keeping one eye on the door. The knife he kept strapped to his arm, beneath the thin material of the shirt, just in case.

Casting one last glance at the windows, Kurama left the room and headed for the stairs.

Above him, something clanked across the grill.

He glanced up, one arm raised instinctively to defend against an attack, but only empty darkness greeted him. He narrowed his eyes, letting his sight adjust to the dark, searching for a sign of movement in the darkness. Another clank resonated across the grillwork, this time from directly above him. Kurama stepped forward cautiously, still seeing nothing, determined not to let whatever was up there cut him off from the stairs.

Something big struck Kuwabara's door from the inside, rattling the hinges. It struck again, a heavy crash, as if someone were throwing their entire weight against it.

Kurama hesitated, his partner's name coming unbidden to his tongue. "Kuwabara-kun?"

The screech that answered him was not human, and the door shook again.

Kurama cast a last wary glance into the darkness above his head, and crossed the last few feet to the stairs while behind him something shrieked.

He had barely given the living room a cursory glance on his way upstairs, now he checked it over in greater detail. The furniture was soggy and full of holes, the fireplace full of – Kurama paused and glanced again. Where those bones? – something, anyway, and the throw rug in front of the couch was ruined. Kurama seriously hoped this was an alternate universe. The cost of redecorating alone would bankrupt them if any of this were real.

On the table by the front door Kurama found Kuwabara's cell phone, and a notepad.

The notepad looked as if it had been sitting there for years instead of just a few minutes. The paper was browned and rotting from water damage, and there were rust-colored stains spattered across, which Kurama rather doubted were actually caused by rust. Faded letters, recognizable as Kuwabara's messy scrawl, could barely be read.

Gone to Genkai's. Meet me there.

****

chaoscentral @ 2005-09-28T01:14:00

2005-09-28T05:11:33Z

Author's Note: This fic is actually the sequel to another, as yet unfinished story, (inspired by Running With the Crow, by Kahn,) in which – to make a long story short – lots of crap happens, and Kuwabara ends up losing his job as a detective with the Tokyo PD while trying to cover up for Yuusuke and Kurama's demonic heritage. He ended up catching some work as a PI for supernatural cases, and decided to make a living out of it. At the end of the story, Kurama became his partner and now they solve crimes on the dangerous streets of Tokyo!

Okay, really they mostly bitch about how they have no work. But anyway.

The Other Side of Reality: Chapter Two
In which Kuwbara really needs to use the bathroom, and Kurama goes missing

Kuwabara dreamed about a room made of night and stars that dripped blood down on his head. The blood gathered and pooled around his feet, rising swiftly till he was wading in the thick, slick liquid. There was no smell, and that's how he knew it was a dream; because he'd been bathed in blood before and the copper stink of it gave him a headache and made his throat clench.

Something tugged at his calves, an undertow in the ocean of blood. The stars still rained down into the room, but now the blood was churning, a whirlpool forming in the center of the room, a perfect circle of churning red. The blood flowed past him, the force pulling at him enough to drag him forward into the center of the circle, and he fell under the surface.

As soon as he was submerged the blood was gone and he lay on his back on the floor. Above him the stars had gone dark, and the sky was black and empty. Everything was black and empty, but when he looked down at himself, he could still see.

He stood, and he was dry and clean, no blood anywhere. He wondered if the blood had been pulled out of his veins as well, if he would still be alive when he left the night.

Around him, a perfect circle of red began to glow in the night, and another within it. Symbols, designs glowed blood red and pulsed around him like a heartbeat. He stood in the center of it and each pulse of the red light made his breath catch in his chest. Somehow he understood that he wasn't part of this circle, that the symbols it contained were pushing him away.

He raised his hands before his eyes, and the same pattern was carved into the palm of each hand. Wonderingly he turned them over, and there was a different circle, different symbols, carved into the skin on the backs of his hands.

The black beneath his feet vanished and he fell.

****

Kuwabara woke and eyed the ceiling warily, but it was the same off-white it had always been, with no sign of blood-spewing stars in sight. He checked his hands for strange occult patters, just in case. He hadn't had any weird dreams come true on him for a while, but stranger things happened. There was nothing out of the ordinary though, so he just rubbed a hand across his eyes and stretched.

The absolute best thing about being self-employed was the ability to sleep in. It was a liberty that Kuwabara had taken to abusing over the last few months, to the point where Shizuru had threatened to start sending clients up to his bedroom if he couldn't be out of bed by the time the office opened. He'd have been a lot more intimidated if they ever had any clients.

Still, some things could only be ignored for so long and Kuwabara reluctantly rolled out of bed. He scratched his chest and rolled his shoulder and staggered down the hall toward the bathroom. No sounds came from downstairs, but it was the weekend, and Shizuru wouldn't be by to open the office until after lunch. Which was good, because it meant he wouldn't have to worry about getting dressed before he got his coffee.

But first. He yawned, cracking his jaw as he knocked on the closed bathroom door. "Kurama? Man, tell me you're not turning the room into a sauna again." He would have added something about taking more time in the bathroom than any three girls Kuwabara knew, but his self-preservation kicked in at the last minute.

He yawned and stretched, locking his fingers together and reaching above his head. "Kurama," he managed through the yawn.

His spine crawled and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He craned his neck to glance behind him, thinking maybe Shizuru had snuck up on him. She could do that, her own psychic abilities effectively canceling out his when she wanted them to. When he was a kid she'd done that all the time. He was fairly certain she was to blame for at least half his paranoia.

But the hallway behind him was empty, and he shrugged it off.

Coffee, he decided. Coffee, coffee. Maybe by the time he'd set a pot to brewing, Kurama would be done curling his hair and doing his nails.

The downstairs was dim and shadowy. Kuwabara flipped on the kitchen lights as he grabbed the coffee tin out of the cupboards. A glance out the window over the sink showed a dark, overcast sky and the signs of rain from the night before.

The coffee machine was the only new thing in the room. Other kitchen appliances had come with the house, and varied in age from decrepit to merely old, but the coffee maker was brand new and bright white. After his apartment burned and the insurance fell through, Kuwabara had shelled out of pocket to make sure he could still get his caffeine fix every morning – even if he got it while sleeping on the floor in Urameshi's living room.

Coffee grounds; filter; button pressed. The drizzly sound of percolating coffee filled in some of the empty space in the silent house. Kuwabara leaned on the counter and inhaled deeply, trying to suck the caffeine straight into his lungs. It distracted him from how much he needed to use the bathroom, and the lingering feeling that something was sneaking up on him.

Breakfast, he decided. He wasn't usually up early enough to eat breakfast, so it'd be a nice change. He pushed off the counter and crossed the kitchen, planning to check the fridge and see if they actually had anything that could be considered food. They must have bread at least. Toast maybe. Or rice. They had to have rice, didn't they?

He paused with his hand an inch from the refrigerator handle, feeling something huge and dark and empty pressing down on him.

Okay, he thought. The fridge isn't that empty.

He backed away a step or two and the sensation faded. A step forward and it came back, something huge and… yawning.

His hands hurt. He glanced down, expected to see circles cut into the backs of his hands, but all he saw were two angry red circles of raised flesh, like a burn. He clenched his fists and they were gone.

Tentatively, he lowered his shields, reaching out. He prodded at the emptiness, and it was like, like being numb and deaf and blind. He was used to his psychic abilities bringing him too much input, more details than he could handle, but this was nothingness was just as hard to cope with. It was a dark place of vacuum in the middle of what was otherwise a perfectly ordinary world.

He stepped forward again until he was practically pressed against the fridge, until he could feel the void above him. He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. The paint was browned and peeling, the wood beneath it looked soft and rotten.

Kuwabara pictured the upstairs and figured he was standing directly beneath the bathtub.

He forgot the coffee and took the stairs two and three at a time. The bathroom door was locked, and the doorknob didn't give under his grip. "Kurama?" he called, just in case his senses were messing with him, just in case he was about to bust in on Kurama jerking off in the shower or plucking his eyebrows.

No answer. He lowered his shoulder and hit the door hard enough to take it off the hinges. Except that suddenly the door seemed to be made of concrete, and Kuwabara backed away with an aching shoulder and a slightly dizzy feeling.

The door wasn't even made of real wood. It should have splintered easily. He narrowed his eyes and rested one hand flat against the door, probing at it tentatively with his sixth sense.

Dark. Black. Empty. He saw blood pooling behind his eyelids and shook his head to chase the image away. His palms itched, and when he backed away, the door was smeared with his blood, even though the skin of his palm was unblemished.

"Okay," he said, wincing at the slight nausea that bubbled in his stomach. "No touching the door. Right."

Possibly it was time to call in reinforcements.

****

Yuusuke was on the Tarzan level of Kingdom Hearts, getting his ass kicked by evil monkeys for about the twentieth time, when Genkai appeared in the door way and threw the phone at his head. He ducked on reflex and caught the phone in his left hand, tucked it under his ear and quickly had Sora keyblade a heartless into non-existence. "What?"

"We have a problem." Kuwabara sounded terse and a little worried.

"Tell me about it," Yuusuke said in disgust. "I'm getting my ass kicked by freaking monkeys. I hate this game."

Kuwabara grunted into his ear. "We have bigger problems than your inability to win at a children's video game, Urameshi."

"It is not a kid's game," Yuusuke said hotly. "And just because this one level is a little tough doesn't mean I never win!"

"Urameshi," Kuwabara said. "Concentrate. I know that's asking a lot of you-"

"Hey!"

"-but we have a problem."

Yuusuke hit pause and grabbed the phone to hold it more securely. "What's going on?"

"Kurama's trapped in the bathroom."

Yuusuke blinked and pulled the phone away to stare at it, as if it could explain what the hell Kuwabara was talking about. "Could you repeat that, please?"

His friend was starting to sound tense. "You heard me the first time, Urameshi."

"This already sounds like something I don't want to be involved with." Yuusuke eyed the television screen regretfully and set the controller down.

"It gets better. I'm pretty sure the bathroom isn't actually there anymore."

"This is your bathroom, right?" Yuusuke grabbed his jean jacket and slid his arms into the sleeves, somehow managing not to drop the phone. "The one in your house? With the tacky shower curtains?"

"My sister bought those shower curtains. And yes, that bathroom. It seems to be gone. Or at least, inaccessible."

Yuusuke paused at the front door as he shoved his feet into his sneakers – a pair so ratty Genkai had told him to leave them out on the porch instead of by the front door. "Okay, maybe this is a dumb question-"

Kuwabara snorted.

"-but did you stop to think Kurama just, you know, locked the door? Maybe he's taking a piss and you have some kind of weird separation anxiety that I don't need to know about?"

"Urameshi, the downstairs ceiling is rotting. The ceiling directly beneath the bathroom. There's blood running down the walls in the kitchen. Kurama went in there and never came out. Get your ass over here."

"You know," Yuusuke said tightly, "I never liked that creepy house."

Kuwabara laughed shortly, "You like it enough when you break in and eat all my food." Then he hung up.

Yuusuke tossed the phone over his shoulder to Genkai, who caught it without acknowledging him, and ran out the door.

***

tbc

chaoscentral @ 2005-08-12T01:32:00

2005-08-12T05:41:47Z

Title: Variation Chapter Three: The Captured King
Fandom: YYH
Warning: Some language. Violence.
Status: Incomplete, but fully outlined. Likely to be about five parts long. Shortfic, so far. *crosses fingers*

Previous: Chapter Two: Exchange Sacrifice

Variation
Part Two: The Captured King

"Why must I lose to this idiot?"
(Aron Nimzovich)

Wednesday evening, 10:44pm

"What does it take to eliminate one human? I ask you." Kingman leaned forward, one hand resting against his knee, the other resting on the golden arm of his throne. "Do you think it should take an entire demon horde to eliminate one human, my Knight?"

Knight glanced nervously at the female demon standing at Kingman's left hand before answering. "The human was prepared for them, sire."

Kingman cast Knight a withering glare and sat back on his throne. "Do you hear that, my Queen? The human was prepared for them."

"One does wonder how that could be possible, my lord." The Queen smiled at Knight, but even he wasn't stupid enough to think that was a good sign, and her black lips parted slightly in pleasure at the fear in his eyes. "One does wonder if perhaps a mistake was made."

Knight clenched his fists, but wisely chose not to act further. The Queen stepped forward, her movements delicate and measured as she descended the dais and walked past Knight, the silver bells tied into her hair chiming with every move. She brushed a hand over his arm as she glided past him. "Fear not, my Knight. I would never cast doubt upon thee." He tensed beneath her fingers and she smiled genuinely. "No, my lord, I suspect the failure lies closer to home."

Kingman arched an elegant silver brow.

"The fire demon," she said. "I was unprepared for his strength of will. I fear I underestimated him."

"As you did the human," Kingman acknowledged.

She tipped her head to the side. "I apologize for my failure, my lord. I wonder if you will let me make it up to you?" She risked a glance over her shoulder. "I have completed the half-blood's bindings. He will be... contained, if not docile."

"I would like that very much, my Queen."

She nodded. "And, if it pleases you, I will send additional troops after the human. Ones slightly more… prepared."

Kingman narrowed his eyes. "Send the Bishop."

She turned around, the bells ringing loudly with the abrupt movement. "The Bishop – " she caught herself before she could slip. There was no need for him to know that the Bishop was dead yet. "The Bishop would not be my first choice."

"No," Kingman said dismissively. "Your first choice was slain by one miserable human. As were your second, third, fourth – need I continue, my Queen?"

"No," she said. "My lord."

He smiled briefly, a flash of silver in his translucent eyes. "I thought not. Send the Bishop to deal with the human."

She inhaled sharply, tense at the unreadable expression in his eyes.

Kingman smiled. "And bring the half-blood to me. It's time I met the opposition."

****

Yuusuke didn't actually remember being captured, which was unfortunate, because that would make it harder to gloss over the details when the guys showed up and asked how he could've been so stupid.

He assumed the guys would be along soon because he didn't remember them being captured and the inherent flaw in that logic was escaping him at the moment.

In any case, the room he was in currently was devoid of any sign of further life, especially angry midget fire-demons, loud idiot humans or too-fucking-serene foxes, and Yuusuke was nursing the remnants of his headache in a sullen sort of peace.

Being captured always put Yuusuke in a pissy mood.

The room looked like, well, a trophy room. Yuusuke had seen those in the grand Yakuza manors Atsuko had taken him to once or twice when he was still a kid. There they'd been filled with jewelry on display, or sculpture and paintings, sometimes both. Yomi's palace had a trophy room, Yuusuke had seen it once. Filled with the preserved carcasses and hides of what Yuusuke had willfully believed to be makai beasts. The idea that Yomi kept dead demons around nailed to his wall was too creepy for words, even considering that Yomi was pretty damn creepy all by himself.

This room was closer to the Yakuza trophy rooms; a grand, circular room lined by a dozen carved pillars and between each pillar an ornate doorway. The doors were all closed, but light shone beneath a few, and occasionally Yuusuke could hear footsteps (or loud clanging or stomping sounds that could pass for footsteps in the makai) as someone passed by.

Everything in the room was the same shade of bluish-white, like veins running through snow, or something. Marble would have been Yuusuke's best guess if they were in the human word, but in the makai anything was possible. Hell maybe they were veins. That was... really creepy, actually, he was going to stop thinking things like that.

Yuusuke was in the center of the room, suspended in some kind of cage. The bars were invisible but he could feel them when he pushed his hand out more than a foot or two in any direction, and when he sat, he could feel the thin lines of the bars (wires? Threads, almost?) pressing into him. The cage was suspended several feet above the ground, and Yuusuke entertained himself briefly by pretending he could walk on air.

Six glowing spheres, each about the size of a softball, hung in the air in various places around the room. There was no rhyme or reason to their location, but the light they gave off was the only illumination in the entire room, so Yuusuke supposed that was their main purpose.

And then there were the trophies.

Small pedestals made of the same blue-white stone, real fancy and decorative – rich people things, almost gaudy-looking in Yuusuke's opinion, with a sculpted hand that rose out of the tops of each and held whatever treasure was on display there in it's palm, curved marble talons curled around each piece like they meant to protect it from theft.

From where he sat, Yuusuke could see a ruby red pendant, a book covered in metal locks, and what looked like a giant eyeball. Yuusuke was pretty sure he'd seen it blink.

Sitting in his cage in the center of all of this, Yuusuke felt quite a lot like the newest trophy in the collection.

The door behind him opened with a groan, and Yuusuke twisted around to look over his shoulder.

The figure in the doorway was backlit by the bright light from the hallway but Yuusuke could still recognize Kurama's youko form.

"Kurama?" He pushed himself up to his knees and turned to face the youko, the thin bars of his cage pressing into his knees through his jeans. "What are you doing here, man?"

A flash of memory tugged at him. Green vines bursting out of the earth, the feeling that he wanted to run but couldn't...

The youko paused briefly, then kept walking. There was something off about the way he was moving, something less than his usual poise. Kurama tended to stride, even when he was in human form. You never doubted that he knew where he was going. But as he crossed the room he almost... staggered.

"Are you drunk?"

Feeling sluggish, tired. Something had bit him.

No. Stung him.

Kurama said nothing as he stood in front of Yuusuke's cage. It was almost as if the youko didn't even see him.

Kneeling brought him almost eye-level with Kurama, and Yuusuke tried to catch something in his friend's gaze. Maybe the cage made him invisible? "Kurama," he said again, louder this time. "Kurama!"

"He cannot hear you, Urameshi-san."

Yuusuke dragged his gaze away from Kurama's vague stare.

"I'm pleased to see you have awakened." The demon standing in the doorway looked almost fragile. He was tall and willowy, taller even than Kurama's youko form, and everything about him was white. Platinum hair that brushed the floor, skin the color of blank paper, clear, talon-like fingernails that curled slightly toward his palm. His eyes were translucent, jelly-like. Yuusuke found himself averting his gaze quickly, because eyeballs that looked like clear gelatin were really gross.

A female demon stepped into the room behind him, petite and dark-haired, her eyes and lips a greasy black. "Poor Kurama," she crooned. "His will was very strong."

"Uh-huh." Yuusuke looked back and forth between them, one hand still pressed against the invisible wall of his cage. "And who do you think you are?"

"I am the Kingman." The white demon gestured toward the female, talons stroking her cheek. She barely came up to his waist, and had to tip her head back to gaze up at him. "This is my Queen."

"Wow, royalty. If I'd've known I woulda worn clean underwear." Yuusuke planted his hands on his thighs and leaned forward, glaring out the side of his cage. "Cut the shit. What the hell are you doing to me?"

"Such a way with words," the Queen said dryly.

"A refreshing bluntness." Kingman took a few steps into the room. "My Queen's poison often causes memory loss. Tell me, Urameshi-san, do you remember how you came to be here?"

He rubbed his left shoulder absently. "You poisoned me?" Vines erupting form the dirt beneath his feet, twining around his legs, climbing his torso. He reacted too slowly, couldn't stop the vines from wrapping around his throat and squeezing.

Stinging, sharp pain all over his body. Thorns on the vines, stabbing him through his clothes. Pain like fire spread through his veins, and he had enough time to realize he'd been drugged.

Kingman caught Yuusuke's eye and smiled, small and knowing. "You haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

"Course I have." Yuusuke gazed at Kingman from beneath hooded eyes, focusing on all the different ways he'd like to bash this asshole's face in, and pleased when the demon's fingers twitched. Gotcha. "Kurama's helping you."

"Very good," Kingman said, gladly confirming Yuusuke's worst fear. "Most men are less willing to accept betrayal, but you almost seemed to expect it."

Yuusuke rolled a smirk over his lips, concentrated on the tension of the barrier before him. "Let's just say I have a pretty good idea how guys like you operate."

"You knew I'd recruit those closest to you."

"No," Yuusuke said. "I knew you'd try."

The Queen narrowed her eyes, but Kingman tipped his head to the side. "You cannot see the evidence before your own eyes, Urameshi-san?"

"I can see that something is wrong with Kurama. I could hear that bitch talking about how his will 'was strong'. I can put two and two together and at least get a round number, you jackass." Yuusuke couldn't sense youki from any of them, so unless they were very good at shielding, then his cage was somehow blocking youki.

"I hadn't been led to believe you could even count," the Queen said.

"Who have you been talking to?" Yuusuke demanded.

She smiled and licked her lips. Yuusuke made a face at the sight of her black tongue. "We've had words with a few of your friends. The human. The fire demon."

"Yeah?" Yuusuke jerked a thumb at Kurama. "They walking around here like zombies, too?"

The Queen smirked and stepped past Kingman till she stood only inches away from Yuusuke. As short as she was, he had to look down at her. "No. They're dead."

Yuusuke's fist impacted with the barrier with a force he could feel up through his shoulder, and the reiki he'd gathered in his fist cracked against the wall like blue lightning. The Queen drew in a startled breath and flinched away before she could catch herself. When she looked up at him, Yuusuke caught her gaze and leaned forward until the were almost on eye level. "You," he said shortly, biting off each word, "are a bad liar."

Kingman chuckled and the tension broke as easily as that. "He's right, my Queen."

"When I get out of here-"

"You will not," the Queen said flatly. "We are Weavers, you idiot child. Our threads can manipulate anything, even the fabric of space itself. The prison I have woven for you exists in a space between worlds."

Yuusuke had to think about that for a moment. "So... I'm in another dimension?" He made a face. "There's nothing else in here with me, is there?"

"The barrier is carefully woven," she said. "Nothing will get in or out."

"But, just to clarify," Yuusuke persisted. "I am in another dimension?"

The Queen gave him an exasperated look. "Yes. Do you understand what that means?"

"Yeah." Yuusuke sat back, let his back rest against the opposite cage wall. "Means you aren't as smart as you think you are. What did you do to Kurama?"

'Recruit' was the word Kingman had used, but where Yuusuke was from recruit usually implied that the guy you recruited wanted to be involved with the recruiter. Judging by the vacant look in Kurama's gold eyes and the unsteadiness of his movements, Yuusuke was willing to bet money the youko was being controlled. That didn't make him a 'recruit' it made him a prisoner. Yuusuke objected to that. He felt like objecting to it strenuously.

"We have ensured his cooperation," Kingman said calmly. "Threads have been woven into his muscles and bones, have been connected to the nerve centers of his brain. His every movement is an act of will on the part of my Queen."

Yuusuke stared at Kurama. "His will was strong" the Queen had said. Yuusuke knew better – Kurama's will was still strong, and he was willing to bet the bitch had to put some serious effort into controlling him. That was why Kurama's movements were off, why his gaze was so vacant. "So you seamstresses-"

"Weavers," the Queen corrected him in a tight voice.

"Right. So what you're telling me is you guys are like that freaky guy in the Curse of the Puppet Master."

He might have imagined it, but Yuusuke was pretty sure he saw a flicker of amusement in Kurama's eyes.

"Hardly." Kingman no longer sounded entertained. "Urameshi-san, perhaps you do not fully-"

"Wait, wait." Yuusuke grinned. "I can totally guess where this is going. I don't fully appreciate the gravity of my situation, right? I should realize that I'm under your control? Perhaps I should even be wondering what your devious plan is? Man, and Genkai says I watch too many movies. At least I'm not borrowing their script."

The look on Kingman's face could officially be described as annoyed. "You are an unusual challenge, Urameshi-san. But I enjoy that." He turned to leave the room, his hair a cape that dragged along behind him. "Of course, the notoriety that I will gain for being the one to finally fell 'King Urameshi' will be more than enough compensation for your frustrating behavior."

"Kurama," the Queen said. "Accompany us."

Yuusuke bit his tongue to stop himself from objecting. The bitch would probably just get a kick out of it.

Pounding footsteps echoed down the hall, filling the chamber. Yuusuke looked up as a demon burst into the room. "Kingman! It's the others – they've broken through the gate!"

Kingman tensed and Queen drew in a deep breath.

Yuusuke grinned. "Let me guess. Those two dead guys you were telling me about before aren't quite as dead as you thought."

Queen shot him a venomous glare. "My king-"

"Yes," Kingman said, without turning around. "Send Kurama to deal with them. I doubt they'll give him any trouble."

"Wait-" Yuusuke was on his feet before Kingman finished, both hands pressed against the barrier. "You little shit, leave him alone-"

"If you are very lucky, Urameshi-san, you will have company in a short while." Kingman paused in the doorway and gave Yuusuke a mocking smirk. "Are you lucky, Urameshi-san?"

The door slammed shot behind them, leaving him in the room alone.

End The Captured King

Continued in Hanging.

chaoscentral @ 2005-08-07T13:57:00

2005-08-07T18:09:36Z

Title: Variation Chapter Two: Exchange Sacrifice

Fandom: YYH
Warning: Some language. Violence.
Status: Incomplete, but fully outlined. Likely to be about five parts long. Shortfic, so far. *crosses fingers*

Chapter One: The Isolated Pawn

Variation
Part Three: Exchange Sacrifice

"To avoid losing a piece, many a person has lost the game"
(Savielly Tartakover)

Wednesday afternoon, 3:09pm

Stupid!

Hiei rolled on impact, putting his shoulder underneath him and rolling onto his side, onto his feet, get his legs underneath him and move, fast before they get another chance-

Impact against his left side, just beneath the collar bone, and poison pumped into his blood before he could tear the blasted thing away.

Damn. That makes twice.

He crushed the hollow glass dart to powder in his hands and tried to make his body work for him. The first shot had taken him by surprise, and whatever this poison was it worked fast, but he never should have allowed the second.

His arms and legs felt like leaden weights, his own weight was a burden difficult to bear. Hiei was still faster than they were, they still couldn't catch him, but he was operating at a fraction of his usual speed and reflexes.

I should have known, he thought grimly as his vision started to go fuzzy, blurring the three demons approaching him, and a chiming sound began to ring in his ears, that this was a setup.

Clandestine messages from Kurama were not uncommon. On the contrary, the stupid youko seemed to get a perverse pleasure out of seeing how many different ways he could find to sneak and smuggle messages to him. Hiei thought it was a juvenile waste of time. After all, Mukuro didn't care who he communicated with as long as it didn't violate her interests, or compromise his loyalty. He'd tried pointing that out. It hadn't done much good.

Most of the messages found their way to him via plants: creeper vines growing through cracks in the ceiling and dropping letters on his head while he rested, trees that twitched their branches at him and groaned irritably until he reached inside a concealed knothole and pulled out whatever message Kurama had secreted there. A briar patch that grew into neatly arranged rows of hiragana and kanji.

Mukuro wouldn't have minded the odd correspondence. If she found out that the youko was flexing his powers inside her territory, especially while technically still connected to Yomi's court, and well-known to be amongst Urameshi's supporters…

This message had been brought by demon. A low-level bird-type, with the stink of a carrion-eater about it. That alone should have alerted him. But the rock it had dropped on Hiei's head from the sky had turned out to be a hollow seed the size of Hiei's fist. Cracked in half it had revealed a sheet of parchment and a message from Kurama requesting a meeting.

The seed was saturated with Kurama's youki. The letter was in Kurama's handwriting, the words sounded authentic. Hiei was beginning to wish, in the clarity of hindsight, that he'd insisted a little harder on some sort of prearranged code to authenticate messages.

Hiei allowed himself a moment to wonder what enemies they'd made that could coerce Kurama into baiting an ally into a trap.

It was done. He had to get out of this alive before he'd get any answers. Then he'd kick that stupid fox's head in for getting him into this mess.

The three approaching him were powerful, as far as it went. Lower B-Class, Hiei would judge, and he was being generous toward the third. The woman, though, was… not unimpressive. The youki she put off was as cold and smooth as ice, and something about her made his hackles rise.

Not powerful, no, but dangerous.

She was the one to be wary of. Hiei held back a snarl as they slowly approached, and gathered his strength for an attack. Curse the bitch and her poisons.

"Little guy doesn't want to go down," one of the males drawled. Ridiculously tall and gangly, with triple-jointed arms and rear-jointed legs, his head swiveled atop a narrow stalk. "Urameshi went down like a ton of bricks when we hit him with this stuff."

Hiei paused, the words coming through a fog as thick as soup to settle in his mind.

"Oh look. We got his attention." The second male was mostly humanoid with pointed ears and four parallel scars across his right cheek.

The female stepped closer, and Hiei dimly realized that the ringing sound was not a result of the poison, but bells tied into her hair. Her eyes were black, as were her lips and fingernails, and when she spoke he could see that her teeth and tongue were the same oily black as her eyes. Her skin was pale white, and black veins crisscrossed her face and arms. Something about that caught his memory, but then flitted away into the fog.

"We have taken Urameshi," she said. She was short, compared to her companions, reaching only the shoulder of the scarred male. "And we have taken Kurama. In a few short moments you will no longer be able to resist the effects of my poison, and then you too will be taken."

"Over my dead body," Hiei snarled, putting enough force into the words to surprise her.

"That could be arranged," she told him in earnest seriousness. "Kingman had hoped to use you as a weapon, but you are not indispensable."

A weapon against what? Hiei narrowed his eyes. "Your poison." The black eyes and teeth and tongue. He raked her body from top to bottom and yes, there, at the chest and the waist – a bulge, where extra appendages were wrapped tightly around herself, hidden by the flowing silk and scarves she draped herself in. "A weaver." That explains why Kurama-

"Very good. It only took you a few moments longer than it took Kurama to figure it out." She smirked and tapped a black fingernail against her black lips. "Urameshi didn't have a clue."

That's unsurprising.

"If you surrender you'll be kept alive." She stepped closer, her feet crunching on the rocks and dirt.

"My Queen," the scarred male crossed his arms and managed to look bored. "Others approach."

Hiei couldn't sense anything, but he was barely staying on his feet by then, the weaver's poison working against him. He narrowed his eyes and turned his concentration inwards, focusing on his core energy, gathering up his strength before the poison spread completely.

The weaver looked briefly furious, but schooled her expression quickly. "Finish him then." She threw a vicious smirk at Hiei as she turned away. "Hopefully the human will be more sport than this one."

Kuwabara. All four of them were to be targeted. Was this because of reikai tantei business? Because of their brief stint as Team Urameshi during the Dark Tournament? Maybe they'd killed someone these demons – and their Kingman – had cared about.

Well, that could be almost anyone, really.

Was this political? Kurama from Yomi's court, Hiei from Mukuro's, Yuusuke from Raizen's? Why involve Kuwabara then? He'd no connection to the makai. Unless they'd meant another human entirely.

No. The weaver bitch had meant for him to react to her words. The only humans he could be connected to were Genkai and the idiot, but the idea that threatening either one of them was a means of discouraging him was laughable.

Hiei growled low in his throat. First Kurama, now this. The next time Kurama had something flowery and dramatic to say about teamwork Hiei was going to remind him of this situation.

The scarred male approached him warily, passing by the weaver. He was practically radiating wariness as he eyed Hiei – smarter than he looked, then. Under normal circumstances Hiei would have made short work of him, and this one seemed aware of the fact.

"Finish him, Rook." The weaver had a strand of her hair wrapped around her finger and was tapping a bell against her lips.

Hiei filed the name away with the others for reference as Rook gave the weaver an indecipherable look and raised his right hand to chest height, palm down, and curled his fingers.

Then he pulled and a sword slid out of his chest.

Not reiken, or anything so flashy, just a metal sword with a plain hilt. Wards and spells danced over the blade, but the sword itself wasn't mystical in the slightest. The spell to sheathe it inside the chest was a fairly common one in makai, where the ability to carry a concealed weapon past even the most thorough guards was practically a matter of survival. Hiei considered it an amateur's trick, but that didn't mean he hadn't memorized the spell himself decades ago.

Rook raised the sword above his head-

That's sloppy swordsmanship.

-and struck downwards, slicing the blade through the air and through the space where Hiei had been just a split second ago.

Rook barely had time to realize what had happened before Hiei sank the blade of his katana into Rook's back, severing his spine. The sword dropped from the demon's fingers and he toppled into the dirt at Hiei's feet. The weaver hissed and the gangly demon shifted, preparing to attack himself, but Hiei ignored them, pulling away the warded cloth that bound his jagan. The third eye opened and Hiei could see the approaching youki of a horde of minor demons, still several miles off. He could see the dull aura around the weaver's remaining companion, could see that no shields surrounded the demon's mind whatsoever.

The little strength he'd managed to muster for the attack was fading, but the jagan didn't care. It would feed off Hiei's core energy until he was dead, or until it was warded again and in the meantime it was child's play to reach out and snap the demon's mind with a sharp mental crack.

The weaver glanced sideways as her second companion collapsed in a tangle of long limbs, knees bent and pointing at the sky as his face slumped into the dust. Hiei bared his teeth in a dark grin. Two down, and one or two tricks still left up his sleeves.

The jagan flared but he directed it away from the weaver. Her shields were too tight, too well constructed. Her race tended to develop them early in self-defense from their kin. But there were other ways.

Hellfire blazed down the length of his arm, sucking the last of his strength and leaving him raw. He channeled it at the weaver, taking a moment of grim amusement when her eyes widened in shock just before it struck her dead center.

His knees would no longer support him, but he managed to lower himself to the ground before he could collapse. Wearily he braced his forearms against his knees and concentrated.

Yuusuke was shielded, too elaborately and too completely to be his own doing. Kurama was a fog of sensation with no coherence, no solidity. The idiot was fucking oblivious, but his subconscious was starting to stir, aware of the jaganshi's perusal.

Hiei felt the bitch slip alongside him, not getting through his shields, but following the link beyond them, tracing the thread of a connection that did, literally, span worlds. A connection that would give her an open door into the idiot's mind.

Breaking a psychic link could be compared to severing your own arm, and it was the last thing Hiei had the strength to do before the poison pulled him under.

****

Queen glared at the fire demon sprawled at her feet. She was displeased by his reaction to her poison, annoyed that her attack had not been as successful as she had predicted. At least he had gone down, although Kingman would be… displeased at the loss of Rook and Bishop.

And now she'd also lost the link to the human. It was a minor inconvenience as she hadn't planned on using Hiei to track down his last ally, but it would have been a delicious irony. Hiei, betrayed by one teammate and betrayer of another. She would have taunted him with the knowledge before she killed him. Foolish, noble types tended to react most pleasingly to that sort of thing.

She sighed and pulled at the charred remnants of her gown, now little more than a collection of blackened scraps. The hellfire attack had been most unexpected, and most unprecedented. If she weren't so annoyed, she would have been impressed at his determination. The poison must surely have started burning his blood by that point, gathering himself enough to attack her had surely hurt badly.

Kingman would certainly have words to say about how she had handled the situation.

She pursed her lips and gazed at Rook and Bishop. Rook was broken, his spine severed, but Bishop's body was untouched. Only his mind had been broken.

Queen had not chosen him for his mental abilities, anyway.

She knelt at Bishop's side and pressed the nail of her index finger against the skin of his forehead. The thing, hollow spine that extended threw her finger, alongside the bone, broke the surface and pierced his skin as well.

A few drops of poison slid into his skin, and she liked his forehead to close the puncture would. Her venom spread through his body quickly with no living will to resist it, and she focused, spreading her webs through his entire body. Under her direction his hands twitched and his eyelids flickered as his head rolled back to stare up at her.

"Wake up, Bishop," she cooed, running her hands through his hair. "Your Queen has some need of you yet."

The body staggered to its feet, absent of any mind to control it save hers. Cloudy eyes were aimed at her, but showed no focus, no sign of clear thought. She flexed her control, manipulated it a few steps forward until she was certain she could control the movement of the ridiculous limbs. "You'll have to do, my poor Bishop," she said finally. "Gather the fire demon so we can go tell Kingman we've done his bidding."

Bishop's corpse did not move. Queen spun around and saw only dirt and scrub and Rook's hollow corpse.

"Damn," she said quietly.

End Exchange Sacrifice

Continued in Chapter Three: The Captured King

Up To Something/PG/YYH

2005-08-04T05:50:46Z

Title: Up To Something
Fandom: YYH
Rated: PG for language
Summary: Shizuru has a feeling.
Author's Notes: I'd be lying if I said this had any redeeming value whatsoever. Has not been editted, (I usually force kahn to beta for me, but she has family stuff going on this week) so if you spot something that isn't working, let me know.

Up To Something.

Oh, the little punks were definitely up to something.

Shizuru crossed her arms over her chest and gave her brother and his idiot friend a dark glare. She'd just come in to Kazu's room to see if they wanted something to eat – hey, she was the responsible adult here, after all, and anyway, left to his own devices Kazu wouldn't eat anything but cold cereal – dry, usually, because that way he didn't have to be bothered to wash any dishes afterwards.

She'd expected requests for dinner, something complicated and time-consuming. Instead she had two teenage boys staring at her like she'd just asked them to dress in drag and work the street corner.

God, Shizuru, don't let your mind go there. Too late. She must've been projecting because now Kazuma was looking at her like he was half a step away from calling the men in white coats.

"What are you two up to?" she asked, mostly to distract him. She was fairly certain she didn't need to know.

"Nothing!" Urameshi was about as easy to read as a children's book. Bright colors, small words, and most thoughts accompanied by sound effects. Right now he was projecting a vague sense of panic and, beneath that, a not-so-vague sense of amusement. Whatever she'd nearly caught them at, Urameshi would be laughing his ass off once she was gone.

Kazuma, on the other hand, was glaring at both of them and projecting a strong desire to sink through the floor. Her brother wasn't exactly a closed book, but years of trying to keep other people out – oh, all right, keeping her out – of his head had added up to a moderate degree of control, and she could rarely get anything good out of him these days unless she went digging for it. Shizuru didn't do that. There were some places a young lady just didn't need to be and the inside of a teenage boy's mind was definitely one of those places.

Beside which, the general thread of Kazuma's readable thoughts was along the lines of "shit, I hope she didn't – stop thinking about it! Maybe we can convince her that – stop thinking about it!" so she was probably better off not knowing.

But she only said, "Uh-huh," and put just enough spin on the second syllable to let them know that they really weren't getting away with much. "Dinner?" she asked again.

"Food sounds good," Urameshi said. "You got Sukiyaki?"

Shizuru snorted. "For you, I got ramen noodles and tap water."

"As long as I don't have to heat it up." Urameshi smirked at her and she resisted the urge to smack him upside the head – in a completely affectionate way, of course.

"Don't try to kid me, I know you eat it raw." Shizuru returned the smirk and added, "Keiko's told me how much trouble you've had mastering the fine culinary art of boiling water."

Urameshi flipped her off, Kazuma snarled irritably at them both, and Shizuru decided to give up and order in before the pressing mantra of 'don't think about it' she was getting from both of them now actually did cause her skull to cave in. They were probably just fighting, or plotting some mission for Koenma that would undoubtedly require her to kill them once they got back alive.

She was halfway down the stairs before she realized two things.

Those two fought each other like they breathed – deeply, constantly and with no intention of ever stopping – so she didn't really think they'd bother hiding it from her.

Missions from the Spirit World would have made Kazuma guilty, since he'd promised to step away from the reikai tantei business (that he'd promised this about seven or eight missions ago was something they would be having a conversation about eventually – but as long as he kept his grades up, she was willing to be lenient. Well, kept his grades up and all his limbs attached.) but all she'd sensed from him was embarrassment.

What could they-

Shizuru paused on the stairs.

Oh, for pity's sake.

Deliberately raising her voice loud enough to be heard through the closed door, she said, "You could've at least had the good taste to be making out with Kurama up there."

The steady pounding sound was almost certainly Kazu beating his head against the floor. If it was anything else, she didn't want to know about it.

Humming to herself, Shizuru went downstairs to order dinner and pour herself a drink. She had a feeling she was going to need it.

end

Distance (YYH - Kuwabara/Kurama - #4)

2005-08-02T04:31:54Z

Title: Distance
Author: nightwalker
Pairing: Kuwabara/Kurama
Fandom: YYH
Theme: #4 - our distance and that person
Disclaimer: Togashi owns them, not me.
Warning: Implied character death

It was nice, all three of them getting together like this. They were well within the borders of Yuusuke's realm, where his presence was well enough known and strongly established, and even Hiei's presence would not be challenged – at least not as long as Yuusuke was their escort.

Maybe escort was too strong a word.

Yuusuke was a little drunk. Well, a little drunk for Yuusuke, which meant that enough alcohol had been consumed to kill ten large men. On most days, the mazoku was a spastic drunk, alcohol lowering his inhibitions enough that he was even more irrepressible and prone to random acts of irresponsibility than normal. On days like today, however, he was maudlin, becoming quieter and more withdrawn with every drink. When it was time to go Yuusuke would sleep for two days and then pretend none of it had ever happened. He did it every year.

Kurama didn't envy him his self-induced oblivion. It never seemed to help for very long.

Hiei stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the lightning flash and strike the ground miles away. Maybe he could see more than that, his eyesight was far greater than Kurama's human form, but he gave no sign of it. His body language said only that he was preparing to leave. He'd been there for nearly two days, and while Mukuro was patient with him on this day every year, he could only excuse himself from his responsibilities for so long.

That Hiei came at all meant a lot. Probably far more than the prideful demon would want them to acknowledge.

Kurama would have to leave as well, return to the human world and the responsibilities he still had there. His mother was older now, he didn't have much time left with her. When she passed, perhaps he would return to the Makai for good. Perhaps.

There was too much in the human world to lose. Too much that reminded him of death. Some days he could not walk through Tokyo with his eyes open, without seeing something that reminded him of a life that should have lasted so much longer.

It was good, the three of them being together like this.

But it had been better when they were four.

end

Variations: Chapter One

2005-07-31T21:23:27Z

This has not yet been beta'ed, so if you spot any glaring errors, contradictions or inconsistencies, please let me know.

Title: Variation
Fandom: YYH
Warning: Probable character death. Some language. Violence.
Status: Incomplete, but fully outlined. Likely to be about five parts long. Shortfic, so far. *crosses fingers*

Prologue: Gambit

Variation
Part One: The Isolated Pawn

"The Pawns are the soul of the game."
(Francois Andre Danican Philidor)

Wednesday evening, 9:42 pm

"Human, I can smell you." The demon was crouched on all fours on top of parked car, streetlights reflected off a thick black carapace, and glistening antennae. Drooping black wings draped over the sides of the car, fluttering slightly as the demon braced itself to leap at any sight of its prey. It was unattractive as far as demons went, which was to say that it would have sent Lovecraft screaming into the night.

Kuwabara supposed he was lucky that so far no other humans had wandered across the scene, although he wouldn't have minded a distraction right about then. A little hysterical screaming might have been just what he needed to cover his attack. Unfortunately, as things stood it didn't look like anyone was going to wander across them any time soon, and the creepy bug-thing had him cornered.

The car rocked slightly above him as the bug-thing shifted its weight and Kuwabara winced as the muffler cut into his leg. The demon's weight had already pushed the car low enough to press him into the pavement, turning a bad hiding place into a dangerous one. Kuwabara rolled his eyes and bit back a sigh. He bet Kurama never got himself into these situations.

But then Kurama had gotten himself captured by bug-thing's boss, so Kuwabara was probably doing all right just to still be free. Even if he was hiding under a parked car.

Bug-thing inhaled sharply, a wet sucking sound that made Kuwabara want to twitch. "Human, I can taste you. I will find you. I will drink the blood from your veins and suck the marrow from your bones, and before you die I will warm my hands against your beating heart as it steams in the night air." The wings slapped against the side of the car as the bug-thing laughed. "Kingman doesn't need you alive. Kingman gave you to me. Perhaps I will plant my eggs in your chest and let them feed off your corpse as they hatch."

Oh, now we're just getting gross. Kuwabara risked moving enough to worm a hand between his chest and the underside of the car, flattening his palm against the metal. He could hear bug-thing shift its weight, tried to judge where exactly the demon was sitting atop the car. The hell with it.

The reiken flared into existence above his palm, smashing through the bottom of the car and piercing through metal and upholstery. Bug-thing shrieked in what Kuwabara fervently hoped was pain, then he shoved, and the car went flying.

Man, someone's gonna be pissed when they see that.

As soon as the car moved, Kuwabara threw himself to the side, rolling across the pavement and pushing himself up into a crouch. He held the reiken with both hands as he searched the wreckage of the car several meters away, looking for any hint of movement.

It had wings...

He threw both hands over his head, the reiken cutting into leathery wings as the bug-thing dropped on top of him. Claws slammed into the pavement on either side of his head as the demon screamed in his face, bright purple blood slicking Kuwabara's hands as the wings shredded and tore. He jerked the reiken to the side, cutting through membrane and into the bug-thing's torso, slicing through its chest before it screeched again and threw itself away from him. Kuwabara wiped his hands on his jeans, smearing violet blood across his thighs as he approached the flailing demon.

Blood was pooling around it on the pavement in a slowly spreading circle, and while its wings flapped spastically against the pavement, one little more than a ragged collection of scraps, the demon didn't seem capable of moving.

Kuwabara approached it warily, nonetheless. Black eyes glared at him and the demon growled low in its throat. "I thought you were going to drink my blood," Kuwabara taunted.

Bug-thing gurgled and kicked at him, but Kuwabara dodged. "Who is Kingman?" he asked urgently. "Why did he send you after me?"

A raspy sound wormed its way out of bug-thing's throat, growing louder and harsher until the creature was convulsing with the force of it. Laughter, Kuwabara realized. The damn thing was laughing at him.

"Kingman will send another," bug-thing said.

"Who is he?" Kuwabara demanded. He slammed the reiken into the street inches from the demon's face, making the creature flinch. "Tell me who this Kingman thinks he is!"

The demon chuckled, blood coating his lips and tongue. "Kingman thinks he is the one who killed your friends, human." A shadow flickered across bug-thing's reflective carapace, and Kuwabara barely had time to dodge, throwing himself across the demon's body, before a demon the size of a Volkswagen slammed to the ground where he'd been standing a second earlier, cracking the pavement and shaking the ground beneath his feet. "Kingman thinks he is the one who will rule Makai without interference!"

Kuwabara studied the newcomer, decidedly unimpressed. Big, yeah, a hulking wolf-type with about six arms, though they were scattered all over so it was hard to tell for certain at a glance and an impressive set of horns that looked like something an elk or caribou would have. Huge muscles flexed across its chest and abdomen as it breathed heavily, drooling slightly as it leered at Kuwabara.

"That's gross," Kuwabara told it, grimacing slightly as spittle dripped onto the street.

Big, yes. Powerful, no. If Kuwabara was any judge of youki, drool-monster was only slightly stronger than bug-thing had been. Kuwabara was beginning to feel that Kingman thought he was a pushover or something.

"Let me guess," Kuwabara said. "You're going to drink my blood and suck the marrow from my bones?"

Drool-monster bared its teeth in a grin. "Human pretty," it rumbled.

Well, that wasn't expected. Kuwabara blinked at it, feeling slightly dirty. "Ew," he grimaced, resisting the urge to squirm. "That is just wrong."

Between them, bug-thing twitched and fell still, youki fading to nothing. Drool-monster didn't seem to care, lifting one leg and slamming a foot the size of a trash-can lid down onto the demon's corpse.

"Are you going to tell me who Kingman is?" Kuwabara asked.

Drool-monster threw its head back and roared, arms spread out, hand held up to the sky.

"No, huh?" Kuwabara slammed both hands against the pavement and channeled his reiki through the stone. Beneath drool-monster's feet, the reiken burst forth and speared the demon, slicing into its groin and bursting out of its neck. "Fucking demons. Always making this so difficult." He glared as the huge demon toppled over without so much as a twitch.

He made a face at the corpses littering the street and the ruined car, and wondered how he was going to explain this away. Now, he decided, would be a good time to get out of there before anyone came investigating.

Kuwabara stood, wiping his hands off on his jeans and grimacing at the tacky, drying blood. Another pair done for. Demonslaying was hell on clothing. Shizuru would not be amused. Ah, at least I didn't step in any of it, he thought, checking his shoes.

Genkai's was just a few blocks away. He could be there in minutes, and if anyone this side of the Makai was likely to know who or what Kingman was, it would be her.

Kingman thinks he is the one who killed your friends.

Yuusuke and Kurama were not dead. Hours later, Hiei's death was still an aching bruise in the back of his mind – if Kurama and the asshole had died as well, Kuwabara would have known about it. But that didn't mean this Kingman was treating them like honored guests, either.

Kingman thinks he is the one who killed your friends.

Kingman had a lot to answer for. As soon as Kuwabara knew what questions to ask.

Youki crept in at the edges of Kuwabara's awareness and made his skin crawl. Waves of it, pouring over him from every direction, still some distance away but getting closer.

But first, Kuwabara was going to have to get out of there with his skin intact.

"Human!"

The ground cracked beneath his feet, then shattered, dropping him into the sewers. Cold sewage splashed everywhere as chunks of pavement fell around him, and he shuddered as the contaminated water seeped into his sneakers and through his jeans. "I take it back," he sighed, "This, this is gross." So much for sparing his shoes.

"Human!" Something crept through the water, eyes blinking owlishly, a tail slapping the surface. "It has been too long since I tasted human flesh."

"Just out of curiosity," Kuwabara asked, summoning the reiken with a casual flick of his wrist. "How many of you are there, anyway?"

The demon smiled, showing pointed teeth. "Enough, human. Enough."

Kuwabara charged, the reiken slicing between those wide eyes like a knife through butter.

The sewer demon died so easily Kuwabara almost felt bad about it, but any regret he may have felt was done in by the stench of human waste that clung to his clothing as he hauled himself back up to street level. A wall of youki surrounded him now, coming closer, and he probed it, trying to get a feel for how many demons Kingman had sent. But they were low-level and not very intelligent. D-class mostly, barely capable of intelligent speech, and one was a lot like another. On an individual basis, Kuwabara could have killed them all in his sleep. But a wave of them, coming at him one after another... They were going to wear him down with sheer numbers, if nothing else.

Genkai's was no longer an option. He wouldn't lead a horde down on top of her. Well, not while Yukina was there, anyway. Genkai herself probably wouldn't bat an eye.

Makai, he thought, readying himself as one of the demons separated itself from the pack. Kingman is in the Makai. Kurama and Urameshi are in the Makai. That's where I need to go to get some answers.

Not that he knew how to do that, exactly. Always before, when he'd traveled to the demon world, it had been with the help of Koenma or Botan. The only time he'd gone there under his own power was in his desperate pursuit of Sensui – and slicing the dimensional barrier was definitely not an option here. Even if he could find a place where the barrier was visible, he figured he had pushed his good luck far enough already the first time. Koenma hadn't gone into details, but apparently his father had not been happy with the idea of a human walking around with the ability to wander through the three worlds at will.

There was a fire escape attached to the building across the street, and Kuwabara pulled himself up with one easy movement, then braced his feet against the metal railing and jumped to the next landing. At the top he paused, surveying the street, and trying to focus his sixth sense.

There were at least a couple dozen low-class demons out there, and they had to have gotten into the human world somehow. If Kingman was feeding them through a gate, or a portal, then Kuwabara just trace them back to where they'd appeared, and use the portal himself.

Yeah, bright idea, he scoffed. It's not like the hordes of demons are going to get in your way or anything, And no way would this Kingman guy actually bother to guard the gate. Although, Kingman had originally intended for bug-thing to do him in, so all things considered, the bastard couldn't be that smart.

They were spreading out, trying to surround him, but he could definitely tell where they were coming from. If he could get past them and find whatever they were using to travel back and forth...

Well, he'd be in the Makai with no backup, no idea who the enemy was, and no knowledge of where his friends were being held. And possibly no way back, if Kingman shut the gate down behind him. Not the best plan he'd ever come up with, really.

Kurama was better at that sort of thing. It was pretty much why they kept him around, anyway. Well, that and his ability to defuse Hiei's temper in 2.4 seconds flat.

Hiei was dead.

The street beneath him was a wreck; the overturned car and its shattered windows, the gaping hole in the streets, the two demon corpses – three if you bothered to glance into the sewers, but hopefully the rats would take care of that. Silhouettes were starting to appear in windows as people finally got up the nerve to see what the noise was now that it had ended. Someone would call the cops and in a couple minutes this would be a very awkward place to be found covered in purple blood and sewage.

The still-expanding wall of youki was nearly a circle now, as the demons spread out to surround him. He wasn't worried about being penned in, but he'd rather do it somewhere there were smaller odds of civilians getting caught in the crossfire.

He needed a plan. Something better than storming his way into the Makai with no backup. That... wasn't even a plan, really. That was suicide.

Somewhere to the east, two youkai broke off from the pack and headed straight for him.

First things first. New battleground. Sarayashiki was just a few blocks away, and it should be deserted at this hour of the night. Something about the idea of demonslaying on his old turf appealed to him.

He called the reiken to hand, lengthening it into a spear, then took a running jump off the edge of the building. The reiken hit the edge and he used it to vault himself across the street, onto the roof of the dry cleaner's across the way. Two more jumps brought him to the edge of the block, where he paused to make sure they were following.

Not like I'm exactly hiding my ki, or anything. Not like the stink of sewage wasn't more or less ground into his skin or anything, either. He grimaced and kicked his foot slightly, wincing at the sloshing sound of water still in his shoes. Well, the demons would be able to follow him by smell, if nothing else. Ah, the romantic and adventurous life of Kuwabara Kazuma. If I ever write my memoirs they'll have to go in the horror section. Or humor. Probably humor.

The demons were keeping pace with him as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, not gaining but not falling behind, either. Sarayashiki schoolyard was just ahead, dark and unlit except for the outdoor lights, and no trace of human thought patterns anywhere. Perfect.

Youki!

He caught a whiff of sulfur and a malicious anticipation pushing at his thoughts, then one of the two closest to him attacked, darting forward at three times the speed it had previously been moving.

Kuwabara waited, tracing the youki until it was nearly on top of him, then threw up a kekkai. The barrier flared briefly just before him, and the demon slammed into it with enough force to flatten itself. Purple blood dripped out of a broken nose as the demon slowly slid to its knees and toppled over.

"Surprise!" Kuwabara spun a roundhouse kick at the kneeling demon's head, grunting as he felt bone crush beneath his heel. The demon fell over with a groan and didn't move.

Yeah, I'm real impressed. If I ever see this Kingman in person we're gonna have a talk about underestimating your opponents.

The second one howled like an angry dog and attacked from the side. In the streetlights, Kuwabara could see floppy dog-ears and a snout on an otherwise humanoid demon. It snarled, teeth bared, and went for his throat. Kuwabara met the attack with a right hook, extended the reiken as his fist met flesh, and stabbed the demon through the jaw. It gurgled at him as it died and he let its body slide off the reiken.

He could feel tension building in the other demons. They'd been sent to slaughter one lousy human, and now it looked like they were the ones who might end up being slaughtered. Kuwabara smirked. There was nothing he liked more than failing to live down to people's expectations.

The closer they got, the easier they were to pick apart. He figured more than a dozen were coming for him this time. He gripped the reiken in both hands, and readied himself. He could handle fifteen or twenty lousy D- and C-class demons as long as he kept his head.

Then the sky opened up, and the demons descended.

The first one fell for the same trick, flattening itself against a kekkai. The next didn't dodge the reiken, and suddenly found out how hard it was to fight with no legs. The third, a humanoid demon with a snake tongue and silver eyes, got in the first hit, ducking low while Kuwabara fought off an attack from above, and landing a blow on his kidneys. He staggered slightly, but recovered long enough to kick it in the head. That, actually turned out to be a bad idea. The demon's snake-tongue wrapped around his leg and pulled him off-balance.

"Shit." He hit the ground, braced on one knee, and just barely parried an attack from something that looked an awful lot like Puusuke had back in its stuffed animal days. He caught a grey-skinned demon by the throat and squeezed while using the reiken to slice through the snake-demon's tongue. It shrieked in pain, the severed whip of its tongue flapping and spilling blood down the front of its shirt as it writhed. Kuwabara used his grip on the grey demon's throat to pull himself upright, and kicked the snake demon into a wall.

Something struck his back, knocking him back to the ground, the grey demon trapped beneath him, and claws dug into his shoulder for an instant before they tore away. Kuwabara swore and twisted the grey demons neck until it snapped, then rolled to his feet in time to meet an attack from a feathered demon with grasping talons and a hooked beak. The bird-creature didn't put up much of a fight after he sliced on of its wings off, and when he threw it into a tree, it didn't get up again.

He spun to meet the next attack, but there wasn't one.

The schoolyard was littered with bodies, nearly two dozen of them, some still twitching. Kuwabara did a quick mental tally and figured he'd been responsible for seven of them. Maybe eight.

"All right," he called, planting his feet firmly and letting the reiken flare brightly. "Show yourself."

Something dark and fast and much, much more powerful than a D-class demon leapt at him.

end The Isolated Pawn

Continued in Chapter Two: Exchange Sacrifice

chaoscentral @ 2005-07-30T04:23:00

2005-07-30T09:05:45Z

Challenge fic. What's the challenge? Why, that would be telling...

Title: Variation
Fandom: YYH
Warning: Probable character death. Some language. Violence.
Status: Incomplete, but fully outlined. Likely to be about five parts long. Shortfic, so far. *crosses fingers*

Variation
Prologue: Gambit

"We cannot resist the fascination of sacrifice."
(Rudolf Spielman)

Wednesday afternoon, 3:18 pm

Kuwabara was on his way to his last class of the day – English 302, Conversation and Culture, which was a little misleading, Kuwabara always thought, since it seemed to mostly involve American conversation and culture – when Hiei died.

It felt a little like a hand closing around his throat and squeezing, only it didn't feel anything like that at all. The sun was shining, the bell was ringing, students were walking past him laughing and talking and worrying about their last pop quiz, and somewhere in the Makai, Hiei had just died.

Breathing would have been hard, if he'd thought to try it, but he didn't. For several seconds that stretched on for years, Kuwabara was only aware of the fact that something which had been there before no longer was. It was a shock not unlike looking down and realizing one of your arms had just been cut off.

The little shit finally got his ass kicked, he thought vaguely, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. His vision was tunneling, going black around the edges, leaving the world a blurry, periscoped version of itself.

It hurt like a fucker, too. A seeping pain that slid inside his mind, dripping through his thoughts and pooling around nerve endings, staining memories and coloring his perceptions.

Sensui, he thought distractedly. But that had been worse.

Self-preservation kicked in and his mind reacted on instinct, shutting down his psychic awareness, throwing up the mental shields Genkai had spent long hours teaching him to create until he no longer had to tear them down and rebuild them with every use, but could simply ease them aside until needed. Nothing was supposed to get through them, but this had, so violently and suddenly he hadn't felt it coming. Maybe because it wasn't an attack. Maybe because Hiei had been inside those shields before, and knew the way.

Hiei was dead.

Kuwabara dragged air in through gritted teeth and forced oxygen into his lungs. The way they burned told him he'd been lost to the shock longer than he would have liked.

Hiei was dead, because someone had killed him.

The world snapped back into focus around him, still the same day. No one else noticed or cared what had happened.

Hiei had been murdered, and something smokey and thick had curled through Kuwabara's mind like a drugged animal, or the dying embers of a forest fire just long enough to warn him that he was next.

end prologue

Continued in Chapter One: The Isolated Pawn

chaoscentral @ 2005-07-13T01:31:00

2005-07-13T05:44:57Z

This is posted here just so I have somewhere to save and edit it. I'm hoping to sign up for crack_van and rec TMNT fanfics for a month as a small fandom. ^_^ If you know anything about the fandom, please feel free to offer c&c.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Fandom Overview

Good God, you're saying right now, someone actually wants to rec for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Does that series even have a fandom?

Oh, yes. Yes we certainly do.

"Anybody want to tell me how we're going to do this?"
"Like we always do. Together."
~Michelangelo and Leonardo

Kick-butt action, ongoing storylines, plot, intriguing cast and guest characters, tight writing, well-written and realistically depicted relationships, slash and het romance potential and four brothers who would die for each other. What more could you ask for of a fandom? Of course there are giant turtles, but you have to take the good with the moderately ludicrous.

The basic premise is probably familar to you: Four baby turtles are exposed to some sort of mutagenic agent. A sewer rat is moved to pity and gathers them in an old coffee can, thus getting the mutagen on himself. Overnight the five experience a sudden growth and heightened intelligence. The rat, named Splinter, realizes that the mutagen has turned them all into something more than animals, and raises the four turtles as his sons. They live alone and unmolested in the sewers of NYC, largely unnoticed by the world above. Until they happen across a young woman in danger, and make the decision to step out of the shadows.

The Origin Story

It was 1983 when two part-time comic artists accidentally came up with the idea of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They were hanging out, watching TV, and Kevin sketched a picture of a turtle walking on two legs. He drew in some nunchukus and called it a "ninja turtle." Peter tagged on the "teenage mutant" part and they both liked the idea enough to continue it. Little did they know.

Mirage has the entire first issue of TMNT posted on the official site. It takes a while to load if you have dial-up, but if you've never seen the original series, you should check it out.

Characters:

"These guys friends of yours?"
"Brothers, actually."
"I can see the family resemblance."
"I'm the pretty one!"
~Casey, Raphael and Michelangelo

Leonardo:</a> Leo's the leader and he never lets you forget it. In his defense, he never lets himself forget it either, always painfully aware that his actions could at any time lead one or more of his brothers to their deaths. He takes responsibility seriously, never blows off his commitments and is almost fanatical at times in the pursuit of his training. Of the four, Leo is the best ninja although not necessarily the best fighter. He looks up to and admires Splinter with a reverence his brothers don't always share. Leo's the most likely to have a crisis of faith as well as being prone to self-doubt. All of which, unfortunately, adds up to a character a bit prone to angst. When he's not stressed out about being in charge, which is rarely, I admit, Leo's a pretty cool guy. Being the eldest, he sees his brothers as his responsibility and he can be protective, often times at the risk of his own safety. Ever want to see Leo lose his cool? Threaten one of the others. Then run, because you're about to be dead. Fights with double katana.

Donatello: Quieter than Mike, more patient than Leo and calmer than Raphael (not that this is a feat, by any means), Donatello is the peacemaker of the team. He'd rather read a book than kick your butt, and if you don't push him, that's exactly what he'll do. It's not overstating the case to say that Donatello is the brains of the group. Don shows as much interest in the human world as Raphael and Michelangelo, but while their interest translates into a desire to live and explore and be accepted, Don just might be happy if we gave him unlimited access to the Library of Congress. His intelligence goes beyond his gadgets – Donatello has demonstrated an ability to learn languages quickly, and perform complex mathematical equations in his head. Compared to his brothers, he is probably the weakest fighter – in fact, in the 2003 cartoon series, he's most often the one who needs assistance in a fight – but that doesn't mean you should underestimate his abilities. Compared to most of their adversaries, Donnie can still kick serious butt. Gets on best with Mike, probably because of their years dealing with the rivalry between Raph and Leo. Fights with bo staff.

Raphael: Raphael has, shall we say, anger management issues. Fans of the original cartoon may remember Raphael as the sarcastic punster of the group, but that was a heavily watered down version of the character. Pick a word to describe Raph and you find yourself debating the merits of "homicidal" versus "pissed." Nonetheless, he can be very protective and not just of his family. Tends to get outraged easily for all his cynical behavior, and really, really, really hates looking bad in front of an audience. This includes losing fights, being shown up by Donnie or making mistakes. Also, anything involving Leo just might send him into a wall-punching tirade. But he's working on that, honest. Raph may not be the best ninja of the team, but he's definitely the best warrior. Despite their constant bickering and one-upmanship, Raph and Leo are very tight, and understand each other in a way that their less intense brothers never will. Fights with sai.

"That really ticks me off!"
"Raph, everything ticks you off."
"Not everything! … All right. Everything."
~Raphael and Donatello

Michelangelo: The world's not a stage; it's a video game, and not only does Michelangelo have a pocket full of quarters, he also downloaded the walk-through off the internet. And if the walk-through turns out to be wrong, he's the king of button mashers. Mike just tends to be generally happier than his brothers, but he also tends not to look at the world too closely. He avoids upsetting topics, deals with fear and frustration by ignoring it whenever possible and making light of it when it's not. Mike's the only artistic one in the group, often sketching or working on a story when he's supposed to be doing something else. In several continuities, Mike ends up a published writer. Fights with nunchuku.

Splinter: "A little 90-pound weapon of mass destruction we like to call 'Dear Old Dad'." Well, I wouldn't call Splinter "little" or "old" but that's only because I'd be afraid he might ground me. Splinter is their father, teacher and occasionally parole officer. He' a constant source of wisdom and a nearly indefatigable font of patience. Splinter isn't perfect, though. Originally Splinter was more than a little hung up on vengeance against the Foot Clan. His expectations are occasionally shown to be hard for the guys to live up to – especially Raph.

Splinter was originally a rat, the pet of Hamato Yoshi and he learned ninjitsu by mimicking his master's movements from his cage. I think we'll all agree this is pretty impressive. Hamato Yoshi was murdered by the Shredder, and Splinter was injured in the fight. He escaped into the sewers, where he crawled through the ooze to rescue four baby turtles, and found himself gaining human intelligence and features.

Hamato Yoshi: In the FHE cartoon series, Hamato Yoshi was mutated into a rat, and began calling himself Splinter. In all other continuities, Hamato Yoshi was one of the greatest warriors of the Foot Clan. He fell in love with a beautiful woman named Tang Shen. Unfortunately, Yoshi's greatest rival was Oroku Nagi, who also loved Tang Shen. She denied him, and in a fit of fury, he beat her. Yoshi interrupted and killed Nagi, an extremely dishonorable act, as no Foot Clan warrior should ever kill another, although apparently it's perfectly all right for them to beat each other's wives. Rather than committing suicide and hoping for his honor to be restored, Yoshi and Tang Shen fled to America, taking Yoshi's pet rat, Splinter, with him. They lived there for many years, until Nagi's brother Oroku Saki became the head of the New York Foot Clan.

<http://www.ninjaturtles.com/html/profile5.htm">April O'Neil:</a> A computer science geek who worked as an assistant to Doctor Baxter Stockman. April found herself fired (and fleeing attempted murder) when she discovered her boss had built the Mousers to rob banks and terrorize the city. She was rescued from the Mousers by the Turtles, which is a really funny sentence, when you think about it. At the time April would have been hard pressed to say which was worse, her attackers or her rescuers. The guys helped her take Stockman down, and she ended up one of their strongest and most loyal allies.

For the FHE cartoon, April was revised as a TV news reporter, presumably because it made it easier to explain why she was running around getting into the middle of all the fighting and excitement. The movies and the Archie Comics timeline kept the TV angle, and made her an investigative reporter. The new cartoon series has returned April to her original roots.

April has a delightfully complicated relationship with Casey Jones in most continuities (see Pairings, below) except the Archie timeline.

Casey Jones: What do you do with a crazed vigilante who likes to run around the city beating up gang members with sporting equipment? Well, apparently you make him one of the family. Casey and Raph started out on rocky terms (they tried to beat the crap out of each other), but eventually Casey worked his way into their hearts – or at least into their fridge. Casey and Raph are best friends and Casey fell hard for April, who most of the time seems to feel the same way. Casey and April are married in the Mirage continuity. (see pairings below). Casey appears in every continuity except the Archie series.

Shredder/Oroku Saki: The Big Bad of the TMNT universe. Oroku Saki was a shadow warrior of the Foot Clan who pushed himself to perfection in order to avenge the murder of his brother, Nagi – don't feel too much sympathy, though, Nagi was a real jerk. Saki eventually became the head of the Foot Clan in New York City, turned the Clan into a criminal enterprise and used his position to hunt down and murder Hamato Yoshi, the man who had killed his brother. In killing Yoshi, Saki destroyed the cage holding Yoshi's pet rat, an act he would later come to regret, believe it or not. Saki began calling himself The Shredder and his influence over the criminal element of New York became nearly absolute.

In the Funimation cartoon, Oroku Saki was revealed to be an Utrom in human disguise.

Karai: A Foot soldier sent to stop the increasing chaos in New York as the Foot Clan begins to self-destruct after the Shredder's death. Karai makes a pact with the Turtles: help her restore order, and she gives her word that the Foot Clan will leave the Turtles in peace.

In the Funimation universe, Karai is the foster-daughter of the Shredder, and his second in command of the Foot. She's kind of wishy-washy and spends a lot of time being upset because she has to do things she doesn't want to do.

Pimiko: The Shredder's daughter in the Image universe. So very nearly kicked Raph's tail, but ended up helping the Turtles against an outside foe. Had more or less been adopted into the extended Turtle family by the end of the series.

Renet: Originally the apprentice to Lord Simultaneous, the Time Master, Renet has since become the Time Mistress. I hate to call her a deus ex machina but that's pretty much what she is. She's a lot of fun, though.

Fugitoid: A brilliant professor now trapped in the body of a robot. He's fleeing the military forces of two rival planets when he stumbles across the Turtles.

Shadow Jones: Casey Jones' adopted step-daughter. It's a long story and yes, he did name her himself.

Klunk: Michelangelo's kitten. First appears in The Christmas Aliens Special. Mentioned here mainly because a lot of fics will mention "Klunk was..." and if you don't know who he is, it gets annoying.

Manx: Archie Comics. Manx first appeared as the Shredder's newest ally, Verminator X, a cat-mutant-cyborg with an axe to grind for no apparent reason. The Future Shark Trilogy revealed him to be from the future. He and Donatello were friends and business partners until Manx lost a fair portion of his sanity and turned himself into a cyborg. Manx is a bottom-less well of fanfic possibilities: How did he and the Turtles first cross paths? Where did he start to go evil? Was he, or was he not, Donatello's One True Love? How the hell did he survive the 2095 arc? Sadly, he is largely ignored by fandom.

Ninjara: Raphael's girlfriend in the Archie comics. She's a member of a race of fox people from Japan (her real name is Umeko) who started out as their enemy. She eventually came around to their side and hooked up with Raph. They were cute in a dysfunctional way for a very long time, but she eventually left him for an Alaskan wolf-man in the Mooneyes Trilogy. Ninjara was a strong fighter, a pretty cool character, and she put up with a lot of crap from Raph in the course of their believably unstable relationship. Unfortunately her exit from the series could have been handled better – she ended up looking more passive-aggressive than anything else.

Mezcaal: Raphael's wife in the 2095 arc. We don't know much about her, except that she seems to be another fox-girl (Geez, Raph) and that she's amazingly patient with all the crap going on around her. When the guys went up against Manx, she went with them and more than held her own. She refers to Leo's students as "our kids" and seems to get on well with all four Turtles. Events at the end of the arc led to Raphael's estrangement from his brothers, but Mezcaal didn't hesitate to back him, even though he was occupying a moral grey area. Very loyal. An extremely kickass character, and one I would have loved to see more of.

Utroms: Remember Krang? The creepy brain guy who lived in the stomach of a giant robot? Yeah. Krang was an Utrom. More appropriately, Krang was a nod to the real Utroms, a race of benevolent and highly advanced beings who crash-landed on Earth some time back. The Utroms were responsible for creating the "ooze" which caused the Turtles and Splinter to be mutated. Exactly how much time the Utroms have spent on Earth varies.

Triceratons: Think giant, bipedal, terminally pissed-off Triceratops with laser blasters.

Purple Dragons: The streeg gang Shredder uses to help him keep control of the city.

Hun: Leader of the Purple Dragons. So loyal to Shredder that it's kind of sad.

The Mighty Mutanimals: A team of mutants, including Mondo Gecko and Slash the Turtle, who team up to fight bad guys. Good friends of the TMNT, they were all killed during the Terracide storyline.

Continuities

There are several different timelines and continuities (although not as bad as some Marvel or DC fandoms – dear god) so I'm just going to give a quick rundown.

Mirage: The original and largely considered the best. Mirage is darker, more violent and not terribly kid-friendly. In this version the Turtles didn't pull their punches and killed their opponents when necessary. The mirage timeline consists of four volumes. The first being, well the first. The second volume is set in the same timeline and follows the first volume with only a minor loss of time. The third volume is actually the Image Series.

The fourth volume disregards the events of the Image series completely and picks up where Volume 2 left off.

The fourth volume skips a fair amount of time, picking up in the modern day. The Turtles are in their 30s, April and Casey have married, Shadow in - god help us all - a teenager. This volume splits the guys up for a fair length of time and does it believably.

1980s cartoon (Family Home Entertainment): Pizza jokes, a castrated Raphael, and robot foot soldiers to help head off accusations of unnecessary violence. I love it, but it's the weakest of the various timelines. It did have a lot going for it, including on-going plotlines, a serious attempt at continuity and some pretty original characters.

Movies: The original was close to the Mirage way of things, but from there they veered sharply into a separate continuity. The movies will be forever loved amongst fangirls for giving us Elias Koteas as Casey Jones – aka "sex on legs".

Archie Comics Series: Originally the Archie series was just a comic version of the FHE cartoon episodes, but eventually they began writing original stories. Archie slowly gave its audience a more mature storyline, and touched on subjects the cartoon never would have (Raphael in a long term relationship, Michelangelo being blinded and tortured by government scientists, and who can forget Donatello's Jean Grey impression?)

Image: Fans either love it, or they really, really, really hate it. The Image team didn't pull their punches and weren't afraid to inflict permanent damage or changes on the Turtles. Raphael was disfigured, and eventually started to lead the Foot Clan (long story). Donatello became a sort-of evil cyborg (also a long story), Splinter turned into a bat/rat thing (more long story) and Leo lost a hand (not a long story at all). Image did give us Pimiko, the Shredder's daughter, who challenged Raphael for the right to lead the Foot. The Image series didn't last very long, ending after the 23rd issue.

The Next Mutation: A live-action series that ran from 1997-1998 and containing only 26 episodes, TNM is the bastard step-child of the TMNT fandom. It is perhaps most famous for bringing Venus de Milo into the world, the only character to ever be banned from canon by Eastman and Laird. Venus was a fifth mutant turtle who had been raised as a shinobi in the East, and kept a secret from the other turtles. She has cool psychic powers and the ability to turn even Leo into a condescending jerk. The guys spend so much time fawning over her that they lose the ability to win a fight. It was pretty sad. The theme song wasn't very good, either. (I confess I'm not a fan of this series. Could you tell?).

2003 cartoons (Funimation): The newest continuity, and currently my favorite. Fans are divided on this one, some claiming that the animation style is too "anime" or that the storylines are too violent. Others don't like that while this series has returned to its Mirage-timeline roots, it has added some twists and turns of its own. The series has good writing and an ongoing plotline, and even most of the filler episodes tend to be relevant later on. I personally love it for pretty much all the reasons stated above.

Also included in this continuity is the Dreamwave comic book series, which ran from June-December, 2003.

Super Turtles: This is the anime. There are no words to describe it. But you can download clips if you have Quicktime.

Story Arcs

Detailing all the different plots and story arcs wouldn't be impossible, but it would take forever. Here's just a few of the highlights.

Shredder Strikes (Mirage, Movies and Funimation): Shredder makes his move against the Turtles by waiting till he catches one of them alone, then sending hordes of Foot Clan ninja after him. The Foot Clan and Shredder beat Leo down pretty spectacularly using sheer numbers to overwhelm him, then pitch his body through the window of April's apartment. This arc is one of the best in storytelling and character-driven scenes, and serves to set the Shredder up as a genuine threat to their safety. The Turtles are forced to run, and the sense that they're at loose ends is portrayed very clearly.

In the Movie-verse, the Foot Clan cornered Raphael, and not Leo.

City at War (Mirage and Funimation): Shredder's gone and that's a good thing – except that now every criminal organization in the city is trying to take over the turf the Foot Clan once ruled. At the top of the heap is Karai who is willing to do almost anything to see the Foot restored to glory – even making a deal with the Turtles. Karai's loyalty to everyone is suspect, the Foot are bitter, the Elite are crazy, the Turtles are suspicious, the street gangs are screaming for blood, moral boundaries are crossed, and no one walked away from the fight unscathed. This arc was just good.

Fugitoid (Mirage and Funimation): *deep breath* The Turtles get teleported into outer space by accident while trying to "rescue" Splinter from the Utroms. They run afoul of Federation Troops who are pursuing the Fugitoid, desperate to get the scientific knowledge in his head. The Fugitoid reveals himself to the Turtles as Professor Honeycut, a person trapped in a robot body through a long series of events. While fleeing Federation forces, they were captured by the Triceratons, who used the Turtles as leverage to force the Fugitoid to do their bidding. The Turtles broke free, attempted to escape, and then vanished in a beam of light as the Utroms beamed them back to Earth just in the nick of time.

Return of the Ultimate Ninja (Funimation): This is the five-episode story arc that got everyone writing fic, if only because fangirls suffer from Schadenfreude. Bad guys Draco and the Daimyo's Son, who is obviously just bitter that he's not cool enough to have a name, show up with the Time Sceptor and freeze the Turtles in their tracks. They decide that instead of just killing them while they're helpless (obviously they haven't read the Supervillain's Handbook), they will send the Turtles across time and space. Mikey gets sent to an alternate universe where everyone is a superhero, Raph to another planet where everyone is a motocross fiend, Leo gets sent to the homeworld of his closest friend and Don to an apocalyptic future where everyone is angsty and dead. Doesn't seem fair, does it?

Black Hole Trilogy (Archie): One of my favorite story arcs, and not just because it centers on Donatello. The guys have been pulled into an interstellar war, and narrowly escaped death. Things are looking up for about five whole minutes. Then Donatello asks to use the alien's bathroom, and while trying to figure out how to use it ("You'd need tentacles...") gets abducted by different aliens.

Don't look at me like that – I didn't write it.

The aliens are the Sons of Silence and they're acting as the caretakers/slaves of the Turnstone. The Turnstone is, to put it mildly, really freaking powerful and it wants someone to use it. It's chosen Donatello out of all the creatures in existence. Cool, right? Well, not really.

Gosei Arc (Mirage): I don't know if Mirage actually called it that or not, but the Gosei Arc centers around a young man named Hattori, who is the last of the Gosei. Someone is mucking about with history, threatening his clan's past. The Turtles, with the help of Renet, travel back in time to try and stop the chaos.

Mooneyes Saga (Archie): Raph and Ninjara break up when she meets a sexy but emotionally rebounding Alaskan wolf-man and realizes that Raph's kind of a jerk. Wonder what took her so long? And Lord, this arc sounds a lot more like a soap opera than it actually was.

Dreamland/2095 Arc (Archie): This was actually called the Cyber Samurai Mutant Ninja Turtles, but I can't say that with a straight face, and I bet you can't either. This arc focuses on the brothers living in the year 2095. There is time travel, Manx, Hitler, Manx. Michelangelo dying, Manx, creepy aliens, Manx, and the end of the world as we know it. Also, Manx. This arc managed to impress me for the ending, where Raphael deliberately takes a course of action that he knows will alienate him from his brothers.

Other great storylines include anything with Cherubae (mostly Mirage, some Archie), anything involving Null, the Animagus War/Terracide/Blindsight arcs from Archie, anything with Pimiko *grins* and the current Mirage storyline.

Pairings

"Can we keep her?"
~Michelangelo

How, exactly, would mutants with no visible genitals, tails, shells and carapaces, get it on, exactly? The mechanics are probably far more complicated than any of us care to think about, honestly, but the few times I've found TMNT porn (of course it exists – it's the Internet. Were you really surprised?) I've been more outraged by the poorly thought-out mechanics of it than anything else. But then, I'm odd like that.

There's also a strong OC presence in the fandom, but I'll stick to canon characters for this part.

April/Casey: The canon pairing! April and Casey had a great relationship. It went like this: Fight, bicker, flirt, bicker, fight, break-up and try to start over, give up, return to New York (with baby, in Casey's case) bicker, get married. Writing about them is always fun because their personalities just clash wonderfully.

April/Turtle: Actually, the pairing of April/Turtle is fairly popular amongst the romance/smut fans which probably shouldn't surprise anyone. She was really the first female of any species the guys met, and the only one who stuck by them for the entire time. I see her as more an older sister to them, but obviously there's a strong romance following. April/Raph is the most popular from what I've seen. April/Don seems to be based on a shared love of techno gadgets. April/Mikey baffles me, but has a loyal following. April/Leo isn't nearly as popular, probably because that's just too damn much responsibility and maturity in any relationship.

Leo/Karai: These two are so fucked up they practically deserve each other. I'd support the pairing whole-heartedly if I didn't suffer from the lingering conviction that Karai is secretly plotting the TMNTs' downfall. That said, if I had to pick a pairing that could practically be canon, I'd say this was it.

Leo/Renet: She's the vivacious mistress of time itself, and he's the leader of a band of sewer-dwelling mutants. What do you mean they have nothing in common? ;)

Nope. No subtext here. Move along.

Raph/Casey: These two are just begging to be slashed, swear to God. They run around being temperamental and violent and sweaty and just generally Bad Boys all the time. Also, in the new cartoon series, they are prone to random bouts of wrestling. There's a lot of anger wrapped up in this pairing, which appeals to some fans. Also, at the risk of over-analyzing, Casey's acceptance means a lot to Raph, while Raph's friendship means just as much to Casey. So there are some fun issues that could be written about.

Casey/Don: This pairing has is based almost entirely on the scene where Don and Casey fix an old truck while calling each other stupid names. Well, that and the "You're a claustrophobe!" "Hey, I never even looked at another guy!" exchange, which makes me giggle like a naughty girl to this day. For variety, some writers like to reference a scene in the comics where Casey gets stinking drunk and decides to take it out on Donnie for being smarter than he is. In the comics these two really don't get along well, though that could be fun if done right.

Raph/Leo: Hands down, the most popular slash pairing in the entire fandom. You've got the rival-slash, the incest-slash, the violent sex, the borderline non-con – Raph and Leo aren't roses and sunshine, let's just put it that way.

TMNT Trivia!

-Mikey was technically the first Ninja Turtle created – the sketches Peter and Kevin drew that night featured a nunchuku-weilding terrapin, and the nunchuku is Mike's weapon of choice.

-The Turtles were named after Rennaissance artists because Kevin and Peter didn't think Japanese names would go over well with an American audience.

-Michelangelo's name was originally written as "Michaelangelo" – a mistake that lasted for nearly two decades. Why? Because Kevin and Peter missed the mistake during proofreading of the first issue. Ah, spellcheck. The spelling was corrected with the launch of the newest series in 2003.

-When it ended, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was the longest running cartoon in history. However, the record was taken away by The Simpsons shortly after.

-Ernie Reyes Jr., the actor who played Keno in TMNTII, was also Donatello's stunt double.

-Raphael started the Foot Clan. In Issue 47 of the Mirage series the Turtles end up back in time as part of the Gosei arc. Raph kills time practicing with two Ronin, who later decide to learn more of the way of the Ninja. "In time, others will join us and we will become a force to be reckoned with. So just as every journey begins with a single step... we shall call ourselves The Foot." How's that for irony?

Links

Official Sites

Mirage's Official TMNT Page - Featuring overviews of the various continuities and timelines, character bios, summaries and explanations of different story arcs, the TMNT comic strip from the 1990s, lists of merchandise, items for sale, and commentary from various individuals involved in the series, the Mirage site is one of the best resources for background info. Also contains desktops, avatars, icons and graphics and an on-going art contest.
4Kids Official Site - the official site for 4Kids entertainment, the station that airs the new cartoon series.

Fan Sites

The TMNT Fanfic Archive - there's a lot of fic in one place, but a lack of summaries makes browsing pretty hit or miss. Hasn't been updated in about three years, like many archives for the fandom.
The Green Underground - Created to give TMNT writers someplace besides FF.net to post. TGU has a small selection at the moment, but some good stories.
Behind the Masks - a combined fansite featuring the works of several different writers. Also contains Harry Potter and Willow.
Mikey's TMNT - billed as the ultimate fansite, Mikey's contains forums, fanworks, events listings, merchandise, etc. Has a great links page.
The Technodrome - Forums, fanfic, artwork, links, and info.
FF.Net's TMNT section - featuring 1900+ TMNT fics. Beware of Mary Sue. Note: TMNT fic can also be found on AFF.Net, if you're brave enough to try it.
Stealthy Stories - Stealthy Stories was created as an alternative to FF.net. Hosts fanfic, discussion boards, and a plot bunny farm.

Recs: To be posted separately.

Closed Doors and Open Windows by Skybright Dave
Author's Homepage: Skybright Dave's ff.net profile
Author's LJ: beloved_tree

Closed Doors and Open Windows: Last Rites

Closed Doors and Open Windows: Rooftops and Footprints

Apocrypha by Phishtar</a>.
Autho's website: Pshishtar's Phabulous Phan Phiction - try typing that without double-checking your spelling.

Now and Forever by Dawnatello
Author's Webpage: Behind the Masks

The Ninja's Choice by Ellcrys
Author's homepage: Altistic

Something Wicked by AJ3
Author's webpage: AJ3's ff.net profile

Feelings of Guilt by Machias Banshee
Author's Webpage: Machias Banshee's ff.net profile

Drowning by Sassyblondexoxo
Author's Homepage: The Yahoo Raph Fan Club

Displaced by AJ3
Author's webpage: AJ3's ff.net profile

In Passing by Reynardine
Author's Webpage: Reynardine's ff.net profile

The Scent of Violets by AJ3
Author's webpage: AJ3's ff.net profile

Nirvana by Dawnatello
Author's Webpage: Behind the Masks

Thing to Do Before You Die by AC Poole
Author's webpage: AC Poole's ff.net profile

Hunger by Ria Megnin
Author's webpage: Ria-angelo's TMNT Homepage

Little Trouble in Big New York by Kim Garvin
Author's webpage: Ria-angelo's TMNT Homepage - Her fics are posted here, but it isn't her site.

Autoshop by pacphys
Author's webpage: Pacphys's ff.net profile

Opposites Attract by Renet
Author's webpage: Mistress Renet's House of Insanity

chaoscentral @ 2005-05-19T18:57:00

2005-05-19T22:54:59Z

In which Roy Mustang (at Hawkeye's urging) attempts to discuss the facts of life with the somewhat naive Elric brothers:

"Sex," Roy said bluntly.

"Sex?" Ed echoed.

Al beamed. "Oh! We've read a book on that once, didn't we, Nisan?"

Ed nodded. "Yeah. An Alchemist named Peter Van Holler once theorized that having sex in an active transmutation array was as good as offering a life, since hypothetically the act of procreation was being performed, and that you could therefor circumvent the equivalent trade in human transmutation."

Roy blinked. Hawkeye coughed firmly and kicked the back of his leg. "Oh! Um..." He paused, and the alchemist won out over the concerned superior. "Was his theory sound?"

"Well, he's impotent now. Something about needing a straw to go to the bathroom-"

For Sonnet

2005-03-14T21:35:20Z

Fairy-tale Endings
epilogue to the Poltergeist Reports

Sleep wrapped around Yuusuke like a web, smooth rope clinging to his mind and body, dragging him down into the soft mattress and hot sheets, until he slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

Only to rocket back in to the waking world.

"Wait a minute!" He shot upright in bed and rolled onto his side, propped up on one arm and reaching out to poke violently at the still form curled along his side. "Why didn't I have to kiss you?"

Kurama blinked, sleepiness evident in the slow way he analyzed that. "You didn't kiss me? What?" The youko's jaw cracked as he yawned. "I must have been dreaming then."

Yuusuke huffed. "Not now, I mean then. With Yakumo. I never kissed anyone!"

"Did you want to kiss Yakumo?" Kurama asked patiently.

Out of sheer self-preservation, Yuusuke managed to pretend he'd never heard that. "When I died, I had to get someone to kiss me before I could come back to life, right?"

"As I understand things." Kurama, who hadn't been around at that point of things, looked thoughtful. "I wasn't there first hand, of course, but Kuwabara-kun has mentioned the details once or twice." He grinned and gave Yuusuke a teasing glance from beneath a curtain of red hair. "Usually after a particularly horrific recurring nightmare."

"Shut up! The point is why did I have to run around begging people to kiss me – and almost failing, thank you very fucking much – when you guys just popped back to life without so much as a peck on the cheek!"

Kurama yawned again, the strain of the last few days showing in the lines around his eyes, and the slight droop of his eyelids. "What brought this on, Yuusuke?"

He crossed his arms and scowled. "It's a karmic injustice, that's what it is."

"We died saving the world from a megalomaniacal ex-god bent on the extermination of the human race. You, little shop-lifting pickpocket that you were, were struck by a car." Kurama stretched, head back and toes pointed, a full body effort that was probably not deliberately intended to draw Yuusuke's eye, but did so nonetheless. "Maybe Koenma figured we deserved some special circumstances." He rolled onto his stomach and propped his chin in one hand, looking thoughtful. "Maybe it was because your death was chronicled and witnessed. There was paperwork to fill out and procedure to follow. Botan collected you, your soul was processed – there must be a point where Koenma looses control of the process, I suppose. The five of us died relatively quietly-"

"The building blew up!"

"But there were no human or spiritual witnesses," Kurama pointed out. "No one to whom Koenma would have to account for our sudden revival."

Yuusuke's glower deepened. "I witnessed."

"Don't dwell," Kurama advised him. "You're bad at it anyway." He curled onto his side, pulling the blankets up over his shoulder, obviously done with the conversation. "Honestly, Yuusuke?"

The human boy looked down at his tired companion and resisted the urge to pursue the subject. Kurama's reasoning was sound – Kurama's reasoning was always sound, annoying a fact as it was – and it wasn't the youko's fault anyway. Yuusuke wrapped a strand of bright red hair around his fingers and settled back down, too warm with Kurama plastered against his side, but content despite it. "Yeah?"

"Probably Koenma just didn't like you very much."

"I knew it!"

Two and three when I get home!

chaoscentral @ 2005-02-11T01:42:00

2005-02-11T06:41:25Z

Scene from Nacht Rising.

Minor violence, minor language.

Kuwabara meets the minon of the local demon lord.

He unlocked the doors and let himself inside, smugly pleased he'd remembered which key was which. The television in the living room was on, the muffled sound of a game show filling the foyer. The hallway lights were on, although upstairs was dim and shadowed. He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, unreasonably paranoid, probing for some sort of reiki or youki, any hint of something lurking in the shadows.

Nothing.

So why do I have such a bad feeling about this? He took the stairs two at a time, pushing the reservations to the back of his mind. It was just a strange place and it was messing with his senses, that was all. There were no demons, no youki, no-

No light.

The upstairs hall was unlit and dark, the far end nothing but black shadows that his eyes couldn't pierce.

There should have been some source of illumination. From outside he had seen several of the upstairs rooms were lit. Even with the hall lights out, there should have been light coming from beneath doors, or filtering up from the foyer.

Instead it was almost as if the darkness had smothered it.

Stay in the light, Zlobena had said. But what if there was no light?

He could go back downstairs, where he knew there was light, and watch TV all night, hoping that whatever it was Zlobena had warned him of didn't find some way to drift downstairs. Or mess with the power. Or just wait and try again.

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, summoning the reiken into existence as his fingers curled shut. The orange glow of the reiken flared in the gloom of the hallway.

And faded as the shadows at the far end of the hall seemed to spill along the walls and ceiling, flowing toward him.

As the darkness wrapped around him, muting the light of the reiken and blinding him to everything else, it brought with it the unmistakable feel of powerful youki.

"Demons," Kuwabara groaned, raising the spirit sword defensively. "I went halfway around the world and what do I get? Demons."

A rumbling growl echoed down the hallway, sounding at once as if the speaker were standing just behind him, and a mile away. Kuwabara could no longer even see the walls or floor – he couldn't even swear he was still in the dorm.

Spirit detective.

Oh, great. It knows who I am. That's never good "Yeah, that's me. You got a problem?"

Koenma should not have sent you.

Kuwabara tried taking a wild stab at the truth. "Koenma didn't send me. Whatever you've got going on, it's none of my business."

No. It is not.

Kuwabara took a step backwards, hoping to feel the stairs beneath his feet. The darkness was heavy, pressing against his skin like it wanted to crush him. He dragged air into his lungs and felt lightheaded. This was not going to be good.

"Listen," he argued, feeling his breath slip away with each word. "It's my first day and I've got orientation in the morning. If we're going to do this, stop talking me to death and let's get it over with."

Somewhere in the darkness before him, a shape took form: the head of a deer and the body of a dog, walking upright on two legs. The legs ended in hooves, the hands were grossly deformed. Huge curved claws extended from each digit. The stag's eyes were a gross yellow, and seemed to be the only things in existence that put out any light.

"You," Kuwabara said, "are the ugliest demon I've ever seen. And that's saying something."

The stag's head snorted, and slime dripped from its mouth and nostrils. My master has ordered that I return you to your child-god. The corners of its mouth pulled back in a grotesque rictus. In pieces.

"Talk," Kuwabara said. "Always talk."

The utter black seemed to warp, reaching out the demon and enveloping him in darkness. Kuwabara fell back a step, bracing his feet and holding the reiken, every sense he had wide open, trying to follow the demon's movements in close quarters, distracted by the effort of breathing in the thick congealing air.

The left.

He dropped to his knee and twisted sideways, bringing the sword up, meeting resistance. The blackness parted and for an instant he heard an inhuman howl, then the resistance was gone, and the darkness swallowed the demon again.

He pushed back to his feet, the move taking more effort than it should have. His lungs ached already; far too early into the fight for him to be out of breath. He'd have to end this fast if he was going to end it at all.

The demon's ki hesitated somewhere behind him, not coming any closer while he levered himself back to his feet. "Was that it?" he demanded, ignoring the breathlessness he could hear in his voice. "I'm blind, trapped and bored! What the hell are you waiting for?"

Something struck his right shoulder, knocking him forward. Claws slashed through his clothes and dug into his skin, then tore away, ripping through the muscle and probably scoring the bone. Kuwabara grit his teeth and reached over his shoulder, hand connecting with something solid-but-not; clay-like, slimy, it gave beneath his fingers and molded itself over his hand, utter-black climbing up his arm.

"Shit!" Kuwabara shook his hand, trying to dislodge the piece of darkness, but it gripped his arm and constricted, grinding the bones of his hand and wrist together. He could feel it against his skin as it wormed beneath the sleeve of his jacket and slid further up his arm. The pressure was unbelievable. Okay. Wasn't expecting that. He didn't dare let the reiken fade to try and pull it away, but if it crawled any further up his arm he might be in trouble. If it got around his throat, or covered his mouth… he could barely breathe as it was.

The demon was moving now, faster than it had been before. Kuwabara tensed, ready for another attack, trying to gauge distance and speed only using his sixth sense.

But his lungs were burning and the pain in his arm was distracting him. The feel of the darkness slithering over his shoulder and down his back and chest sent his sixth sense screaming.

The demon attacked from the left again and Kuwabara barely parried, wielding the reiken one-handed, unable to use his other hand for defense. His left arm was a dead weight, and as the demon pressed the attack, Kuwabara was hard-pressed to adjust his balance.

Too many hits made it through his defense, pushing him further backwards. Kuwabara wondered if he was still standing near the top of the stairs, or if he was backing down the hallway now. I might not be in the dorm any longer, for all I know. If he was trapped in some sort of pocket dimension, like Itsuki had done, then he was really screwed.

The demon scored a strong hit, a fist slamming into the side of his head, another following rapidly to his chest. He fell back further, momentarily stunned. The second hit had driven the air from his lungs.

He sucked desperately, aware that what he was breathing in wasn't exactly air. Something slid up the side of his neck, slithered across his cheek toward his mouth. He saw colors then as something slid down his throat, and the grip of the blackness wrapped itself around his eyes.

The demon lunged again and Kuwabara reacted instinctively, lashing out with the reiken. The sense of youki retreated slightly, but not enough to give him any chance at recovery.

Focus.

Youki directly in front of him.

Wait.

Shifting, ever so slightly, to the left.

Gotcha, you predictable little-

The demon lunged. Kuwabara pivoted and brought the reiken up to meet the attack.

Very far away, Kuwabara heard a fire alarm sound as the demon screamed in pain.

****

That took me three months. Three months. Yes, I am pitiful.

Will edit in the morning. For now I'm just glad it's done.

chaoscentral @ 2005-02-04T23:30:00

2005-02-05T05:18:36Z

An idea I've been kicking around. Inspired by a comment from kahn.

No. Point. Just a glimpse at Kuwabara.

There are days when it all washes over him like a burst of light after a rainstorm. Days when he doesn't care what the world throws at him because he can take it, days when nothing more exciting than a pop quiz in math class can happen and he's still content because his life is fucking amazing. On those days he realizes that he can weild a sword of solid light, that he has powers he can use to fight evil, that his life has a purpose and it's not wasting his life at Sarayashiki. Those are the days when he picks fights with Hiei and goes girl-watching with Urameshi and goes with Kurama to visit Genkai and Yukina, the prettiest girl who ever smiled at him. If he fights, he knows he'll win, because he's a reikai tantei, a hero. Those are the good days and they don't require a lot of thought or introspection. He takes them as they come.

There are days when is hits him like a runaway car and he imagines he can understand how Urameshi felt that afternoon four years ago, watching it coming and knowing you could avoid it all - if only you could bear to live with yourself afterwards. Days when he knows deep in his gut that he's not normal, will never be normal. The reiki he calls forth at will is, on those days, very much a foreign piece of power, and knowing that his blood and flesh are saturated with it make him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

Those are the days when he breaks dishes because he's not paying close enough attention, the days when a carelessly slammed door breaks off the hinges, and when he gets frustrated he might accidentally put his fist through a brick wall. He doesn't like being around people those days. Not human ones anyway, and he's glad he gave up the gang because he's afraid he wouldn't pull his punches hard enough - he's not used to fighting humans anymore and he'd kill someone without even trying.

Those are the bad days, when he aviods Genkai because no one could live that long and be normal, when he doesn't go to see Yukina because he's too aware of the fact that she's a demon - a mostly-a-sexual demon, but he can't really think of Yukina and sex in the same thought anyway. And that makes it worse, because on those days he's painfully aware that a teenage human male and an asexual demon female are not likely to make the world's most compatible couple. He stays away from Shizuru, because she'd know how he was feeling and he doesn't want her being nice, or understanding, and she would, even if Shizuru's way of showing it is by making him paint the entire house before dinner.

On those days he doesn't eat much at lunch because the waves of youki rolling off Urameshi make his mouth dry and the rice stick in his throat. Sick apprehension makes his stomach churn, the demonic energy makes his head throb, and even though it's Urameshi and there's no fucking way he has anything to fear from Urameshi, his instincts still scream at him to fight or to flee.

Those are the days when he's a reikai tantei, a minion of Koenma's, disposable, expendable, the weakest link in the team. Those are the days when he knows he's out of joint with the rest of humanity and he'll never quite fit back in, but he'll never be part of the Reikai or Makai either. He's fallen quite soundly through the cracks and it's too late to go back.

Those are the days when he tries not to think, when he can smoke three packs and still feel his fingers twitch for another.

Mostly, he's okay with it. His best friends are a demonic warlord, a demonic thief and a demonic assassin. His sister is a mind-reading, real world version of Lina Inverse with a nicotine addiction. He's in love with an ice-demon whose older brother probably still wants him dead despite it all. Genkai is about ten million years old and still stronger and faster than he is. That's okay, because he's a psychic demonslayer who's been to hell three times and died twice, even if Urameshi's the only one who counts the first time.

Most days he's proud of his strength and careful how he uses it - it's second nature by now to gentle his touch when dealing with humans; he's never hurt anyone by accident and he doesn't want to. His reiki is a tool and a weapon, something that sets him apart, but maybe also sets him a little bit above.

And if he'll never quite fit in with humanity again, that's okay. Because his place is with his team, and they don't quite fit in either.

chaoscentral @ 2005-01-29T01:00:00

2005-01-29T06:05:13Z

Ficcage! Warnings and such may give it away -

Fandom: The Hardy Boys
Rating: PG for minor violence
Warnings: Character death

Credit for the title goes to kahn who also served as my trusty and loyal beta.

If you're willing to risk reading it as it is, skip below.

Confessions to an Empty Room

Four years later and his key still fit the lock.

He hadn't thought it would work. Even as he'd been sliding the key into the lock he hadn't believed it would actually work. Shouldn't they have changed the locks? Weren't they afraid he'd come back?

A gust of wind made him shiver and he glanced around to make sure no one had seen him standing there. The schoolyard was dark and deserted, the only light coming from the streetlights in the student parking lot, and the single-bulb lights at the exits. A similar light gave off a faint hum above his head as he stood indecisive at the side entrance to the old gym.

He gathered his conviction and pushed the door open, stepping through into a dark building musty with disuse.

He reached out and flipped on the lights.

The flourescent lights flickered dimly before slowly flaring to full brilliance, lighting the gymnasium. He took a deep breath and coughed on the stale air, then shut the door behind him and thumbed the lock.

To either side of him stretched empty rows of bleachers, and across as well. The main gymnasium was a basketball court, with tape along the floor to mark out boundaries and goal lines for indoor soccer. There was enough dust built up to show that the building had not been used in some time.

His feet carried him to the center of the court with no input from his mind.

The wood was stained a rust color brown. If he looked, he could see the indentation from where he dropped the gun.

It was late in the game and they were tied with Southport. The bleachers were full of fans, the players were riding high on adrenaline, and he knew they could pull it off. Twenty seconds left in the game and all they needed was one basket.

He was the only one who noticed the police officers coming into the gym.

He crouched down and rubbed his fingers over the shallow dent in the wood.

"People don't really come here anymore."

The voice startled him and he tried to stand and turn around at the same time. Instead he overbalanced and fell backwards, landing hard on his tailbone. He stared up into the bemused face of a teenage boy. "What are you doing here?" he managed to ask, fighting down the urge to get to his feet and run. He couldn't run away again. It had taken him too long to work up the courage to come back at all. He might not have the strength or will to do it a second time.

"I could say the same to you." The boy was probably a senior, tall and well-built, with blond hair. He wore a letter jacket and a pair of battered jeans. The boy looked like any one of the hundreds of athletes he had coached over the years.

"I used to work here," he finally said. "I just wanted to take a look around."

"Yeah?" The kid wasn't getting too close. "You're Ben Wainwright."

The sound of his name was like adrenaline shot into his veins. No one had called him that in four years. "I am."

The kid stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and eyes Ben warily. "I bet the cops would be interested to know you're here. And few other people as well."

"They'll know soon." Ben had made sure of it. He wasn't leaving himself a way out this time.

Just don't run away, you coward.

"You don't say." The kid seemed skeptical, but not afraid. Nothing in the way he held himself, or the steady way he watched Ben, indicated he was at all apprehensive about being there with a wanted man.

"Should you even be here?" Ben asked defensively, feeling ridiculously like he was being sized up and found wanting. "I thought they closed this place down?"

The kid nodded. "They did, a few months after you skipped town. He glanced at the floor beneath Ben and shrugged. "They never could get the blood out. And they needed a bigger gym anyway, so they just built a new one as fast as they could and shut this one down. Cheaper to ignore it than to demolish it, I guess."

"They could have just replaced the flooring." Ben slowly stood, then checked his hands, as if he expected the blood to have come off on his skin.

"A lot of kids wouldn't come in here anymore. Especially the ones who were there that night. And hell, if the entire basketball team refused to set foot on the court…" he shrugged. "High school sports are like bread and butter to a school board. They caved in to demands for a new gym pretty quickly, by all accounts." He crossed the rest of the distance between them and stared down at the bloodstained floor. "The kids still talk about what happened, you know."

"Do they get it right?" Ben asked coldly.

"Probably not." The kid gave Ben a disconcerting look, one that pierced straight through him. "I figure there's only two people who know what really happened, right? You and-"

"Him," Ben said hoarsely, and felt himself slide backwards in time. "What do they say?"

"Lots of things. You were on drugs, you were a secret pedophile, you were actually a closet serial killer and this was supposed to be your big massacre. Never mind that serial killers generally don't go in for the big explosive showdown." He grinned at Ben. "I guess the truth was tame in comparison, huh?"

"Murder's become tame?" Ben said. "It makes you wonder about people."

The kid didn't point out that he was the last person who should be passing judgment.

"I was the coach for all the boys' teams," Ben said quietly, and as he gazed around the gym he could remember a hundred different moments, games, practices, classes. "Soccer, football, basketball, baseball. Taught gym class. I knew most of the kids here by name. The athletes on my team never failed a class, and knew that if I caught them smoking or drinking or taking anything that wasn't prescribed I'd have their heads on a platter." He closed his eyes against the memory. "We were playing for the championship that night."

"I remember."

"We had a good team that year. Twelve good kids, solid players. More than half of them were seniors, we might have been in trouble the next year. But at that point we didn't care, because we were going to win the championship. It would have been the third year in a row." Ben closed his eyes. "It was a good team," he repeated dully. "It was a sure bet we'd win."

"That's why you bet on the game?"

He opened his eyes to stare at the kid, watching him quietly. "I guess some of them are still telling the truth, boring as it may be," he said.

The kid shrugged.

"Do they tell the rest of it?" Ben asked bitterly. "Do they tell you I had spent three years racking up enough gambling debt to make a sane man fear for his life, but still hadn't stopped? Did they tell you that I bet on my team to win because the winnings would be small, but it was a sure thing? I needed to win."

"For the money to pay back your bookie?"

Ben laughed. "Hell, no, kid. I just needed to win. It was like a drug, gambling. And no matter how many times you lose you just keep risking it all on the one in a million chance you'll make it big. I'd been losing for so long even a small win would have been like gold."

"And everyone knew Bayport was going to win that game."

"Well, everyone except Southport, obviously," Ben grinned, despite everything. "They kept in there, but our team was better. I knew we could pull a last minute win. All we needed was one basket." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Twenty seconds left in the game, and that's when the cops came in."

He knew they were there for him. He knew by the way the first officer caught his gaze across the gym and started working his way through the crowd. He knew by the way the second officer caught the referee by the arm. He knew by the way his stomach dropped out of him and his hands began to shake.

Ben had been afraid of the Cortez family's bookies. He'd never thought once about the cops coming after him.

They were going to stop the game. They were going to make him lose.

He couldn't lose. Not again.

He had nothing left. The Cortezes would come after him, the enforcers would come looking for money he couldn't even pretend to have. And if he was in jail he couldn't get the money at all. He'd be a sitting duck, locked up in a small room waiting for a mobster to come and blow him away.

One of his best players had the ball, but the referee was about to call for a timeout.

"Frank Hardy had the ball. Good kid, natural athlete, but he spent most of his time in the library or on the computer. His dad used to be a cop. When he saw the police come in he hesitated."

"Make the shot!" The words are tearing his throat to shreds and the panic is bubbling in his chest. "Make the goddamned shot, Frank!"

People are staring at him in surprise but he barely notices. The referee signals for a time out, the team jogs to a halt.

"Make the shot! Make it!" His team is staring at him in surprise now, and one of the boys points toward the ref, obviously thinking he hadn't seen the timeout. Ben's shaking so hard he can't see straight. "Frank! Make the shot!"

There's a presence at his side. One of his football team, there to watch his brother play. Joe Hardy gave him a worried look. "Coach, the ref called a time out."

If it had been anyone but him, maybe the next few minutes would have played out differently.

"I can still see the look on his face." Ben's voice was heavy and echoed in the gym. He wondered how long he'd stood there in silence, remembering.

The kid just tips his head to the side and regards Ben with that damned piercing gaze. "Which one?"

The gun was a safety measure. You don't get mixed up with bookies and loan sharks and expect not to have to protect yourself. Ben had gotten the gun when he'd started losing in the thousands instead of the hundreds. He didn't even remember bringing it to the game that night, but there it was in his hand.

It was almost like he was watching another person, he thought as he watched himself grab Joe Hardy and pull the boy against his chest. He wrapped an arm around Joe's throat and pulled, the gun pressed against the side of his head. "Make the goddamned shot, Frank!"

"Police! Freeze!"

"Frank."

Ben had noticed that Frank was pale and his fingers were clenched white on the ball as he took a step toward the coach and his brother. Ben noticed that Joe's breathing was rapid but shallow. Ben noticed that the entire stadium was in pandemonium. But none of it was affecting him, none of it was real. "Make the shot, Frank. It's for the championship."

Frank nodded slowly. "If I make the shot, you'll let Joe go, won't you coach?"

"He asked me if I'd let his brother go," Ben remembered distantly. "I hear him asking me that every night when I try to sleep. I'll hear him asking me for the rest of my life."

"You didn't."

"No."

"The game is over, Coach Wainwright. You need to come with us." The younger of the two officers was standing in the center of the court, holding his gun on Ben. His partner was waving the players off the court, and had one hand wrapped around Frank Hardy's wrist.

The game was over. He'd lost.

"It was a sure thing," he whispered.

"So why'd you do it?" the kid asked. "Were you mad? Was it a way to hurt Frank for not taking the shot?"

"It was a distraction."

He's no longer outside himself, watching. Now he's locked inside his own mind, feverishly trying to find a way out. All he had was the gun and a hostage.

"I pushed him toward the cop, threw him halfway across the court. Looking back, I think the cop was going to catch him." Ben spoke slowly. He'd never told the story before, had barely dwelt on the details of these last few minutes himself. He wanted to tell it right. "I was too far gone with panic to realize it at the time, but he must've been choking, the way I'd been holding him. So I pushed him, and he fell, and I think the cop was going to catch him. But all I saw was the cop coming toward me." He turns around slowly, staring down at the rust-colored stains. "I think I was trying to shoot the cop. I don't know. I wasn't rational, I was scared." He laughed quietly. "So I shot a seventeen year old kid in the back."

The gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans and he pulled it out, holding it in his hand. It felt heavier than it had that night. He knelt, and set the gun down on the floor above the indentation he'd made when he dropped it four years earlier.

"Everyone froze. No one seemed to react at first. I dropped the gun; I'd never fired it before, can you believe that? Owned a gun and didn't even know how to use it. That I didn't shoot myself was a miracle." He crouched there for a moment, dragged his hands over his face. "Oh, god, I wish I had."

In the silence, Ben could hear the sound of a car pulling up outside.

"I only remember voices," the kid said quietly.

"You closed your eyes," Ben said.

"My brother and parents were there. I didn't want them to see the look on my face when I died."

"I picked up the gun and ran. No one tried to stop me, they all scrambled to get out of my way. The cops weren't prepared. They hadn't expected me to do something so-" he swallowed and laughed. "So crazy."

"But you came back?"

"Four years to the day. I've been moving around a lot. Doing odd jobs. Living in the back of my pickup. The Cortezes would probably still like to find me. And your brother never stopped looking for me." He risks a glance upward and the kid's eyes are sad and tired. "I always knew he'd catch up with me eventually. He's smart. He's good."

"He is," the kid said with defiant pride.

"He's here now," Ben said heavily.

They both heard the door open, and Ben raised his eyes to watch the young man step into the gym.

Frank Hardy looked older than twenty-two, but he was still a handsome man. Right then his face was blank of expression as he met Ben's gaze across the empty court.

"Four years to the day," Ben said again. "And every day of it an agony. I'd have killed myself if I weren't a coward." He stood, leaving the gun on the floor. "If I didn't owe your family more than that."

He risked a sideways glance at the kid, at Joe, still seventeen and still in the same clothes he'd worn that night. "Can he see you?" he asked, wondering what Frank will make of the question.

Joe shook his head.

"Were you always here?"

"Not till tonight. I knew you'd come here."

"Wherever you go next," Ben said. "I hope you know I'm sorry."

Joe offered him a grin and a shrug. "Coach, I knew that a long time ago. If I hadn't forgiven you, I wouldn't be here tonight."

"Why did you come?" Ben asked. Frank isn't making any effort to come closer, and he wondered if Joe had lied, if Frank knew who Ben was speaking to.

"A lot of reasons. Mostly because I thought you needed some help turning yourself in."

"You were a distraction." His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Again."

"I just kept you talking till Frank got here." Joe watched his brother with a wistful expression. "It'll help him, knowing you've been caught, that you'll stand trial."

"It'll help me, too," Ben told him. "For what that's worth."

"Wainwright." Frank finally spoke, and Ben turned to face him. "It's time for us to go."

"Can you see him?" Ben asked. "Do you know he's here?"

Frank shook his head. "I don't need to see him." He nonetheless managed to fix his gaze at Ben' side, where he knew Joe was standing. "I know."

He felt himself pulling the trigger, felt the kickback jerk his entire arm and shake his grip loose. He dropped the gun and watched Joe fall, a splatter of red across the back of his letter jacket.

Down the court he watched Frank jerk as if shot himself.

And then he realized what he'd done.

end

chaoscentral @ 2005-01-10T23:28:00

2005-01-11T04:32:09Z

Somethin short and silly I posted to the MarySue comm a few days ago.

The Fellowship had put ashore two days out from Lothlorien. Aragorn and Boromir had conspicuously vanished into the woods to search for "firewood" and Sam was threatening Pippin and Merry with a frying pan. Frodo was gazing out over the river and Gimli was smoking his pipe.

Legolas appeared with the STRANGE YOUNG MAIDEN who joined their party in Lothlorien.

"Gimli, my friend, I'd like you to meet my true love, Anariana Miarielle, daughter of Celeborn and his first wife Sahara, Queen of the Moon Elves. She was shunned by Galadriel and forced to live alone in the mountains as an outcast, tormented and hunted by orcs, opressed by men and raped by wargs. But her shining spirit has remained untainted by the terror she has faced in her long life." He paused for a moment to gaze soulfully into her eyes. She returned the gaze with a breathless whimper.

Gimli eyed them both somewhat warily and puffed hesitantly at his pipe. "That's... nice."

Legolas heaved a heavy sigh, a sweet smile crossing his face. He turned to face Gimli for just an instant, and Gimli couldn't help but notice that the elf's grey eyes seemed somewhat murky and unfocused.

"So, Annamaria," Gimli began.

"Anariana Miarielle," the elf maiden said gently.

"Right. How is it you came to be in Lothlorien if the Lady had you exiled?" Gimli couldn't see the Lady Galadriel exiling anyone, but he had even more trouble believing that the Lady would allow someone she had once exiled to wander back into the Golden Wood.

"My step-mother's hatred of me is not so strong that she would risk all of Middle Earth. My true mother was Sauron's own blood, and as such I am immune to the effects of the Ring. Who better to aid you on your journey?" She smiled brilliantly.

Gimli nodded slowly and glanced behind him. Merry and Pippin were gaping and even Sam seemed to have forgotten dinner in favor of staring at their new companion.

"Immune to the Ring," he said slowly. "Indeed, a great blessing. Why, not even the Lady was immune, though she resisted its temptation."

The elf maiden's voice was oddly tight when she responded. "As I have said, it is due to my bloodline. The blood of Sauron flows in my veins, both a blessing and a curse."

"I thought your mother was Sauron's sister?" Pippin piped up from behind Gimli. "So really, it's the blood of Sauron's sister that flows in your veins, right?" He paused and Gimli could almost hear the mental gears shifting. "Unless there's something really kinky you're not telling us."

"Pippin!" Sam sounded scandalized.

"I thought your mother was Queen of the Moon Elves?" Merry asked skeptically. "Sauron wasn't any Moon Elf. I've never even heard of a Moon Elf."

"The race of Moon Elves was massacred by Sauron during the last war. "She sniffled delicately and Legolas caught her up against his chest, stroking her golden blonde, waist-length hair. "My mother-"

"Sestina," Gimli said as sympathetically as he could manage.

"Sahara," she said slowly, and through gritted teeth. "My mother, Sahara, was a Half-Elf. She and Sauron shared a father."

"Of course they did," Gimli said soothingly.

"It is a curse I must bear," the maiden - Antina? Ariola? - said bravely, with just a hint of a tremble in her voice. "But were it not for my cursed ancestry I would not possess the psychic powers that made it possibly for me to join you on this quest, and I would never have met my true Love." She reached a delicate hand out to cup Legolas's face.

"I thought you were here because you could resist the temptation of the Ring?" Sam queried.

"That too," she said tightly.

Gimli had heard all he intended too. "Frodo," he called. The Ringbearer was watching them all with an expression of incredulousness that suited Gimli perfectly at the moment. "Why don't you show Legolas that patch of berries you found earlier. The ones you feared might be poisonous?"

It took a moment, but Frodo caught his gaze and nodded, an expression of determination flashing over his face. Legolas blinked dazedly for a moment as his attention shifted away from the elf maiden, but stepped hesitantly toward the halfling. The maiden moved to follow, but Gimli levered himself to his feet with a speed that would have surprised many and placed himself between them. "Lady Anorexia," he said.

"Anariana Miarielle," she snapped.

"Yes, my dear. I was hoping you could tell me more of your past? The little I know has captured my curiosity and I would hear all about your life." Gimli saw Merry and Pippin staring at him with twin expressions of horror, but Sam just hefted his frying pan thoughtfully. Gimli just hoped the determined little halfling wasn't thinking of using it on him.

"I - of course." She stared after Legolas with a yearning gaze, then smoothed her skirts - an elaborate silken number, bright red and embroidered in gold thread. It matched her hair, but Gimli figured the orcs could see her from a mile away. "What would you know, Gimli?"

"Let us walk by the river and enjoy the view," Gimli said with a forced smile.

As he led her off, she already chattering importantly about her mother's forced marriage to the cruel king of the Moon Elves before Celeborn had rescued her, he caught sight of Frodo dragging Legolas away into the woods at a run.

****

Hours later Aragorn and Boromir made their way back to camp, pine needles in their hair and stupid grins on their faces. They were greeted by four chattering hobbits, a dazed elf, and a dwarf bearing an air of decided satisfaction.

"What did we miss?" Aragorn demanded, giving Gimli a suspicious look, which the dwarf returned with an air of confused innocence.

"Where is Lady Ana... Boromir trailed off, then rallied admirably. "The Lady?"

Legolas made a tired keening sound and rocked back and forth slightly. Gimli patted him on the shoulder.

"She had an appointment to keep," Gimli said. "A pressing engagement with the Valar. Some Elf-Maia halfblood thing."

Boromir nodded sagely, apparently willing to swallow that if it meant he didn't have to listen to any indepth details. "Is dinner ready?"

"It's cold now," Sam said.

Aragorn hesitated a moment, giving Gimli one last glare. The dwarf just smiled and patted Legolas's shoulder again. Merry and Pippin glanced at one another and snickered.

"I'm never leaving you all unsupervised again," he sighed.

chaoscentral @ 2004-11-10T16:44:00

2004-11-10T21:44:27Z

This was a request fic from sidara who asked for "a short fic. With Marco jumping Jake as soon as he walks in the door."

Rated R for language and Jake/Marco-ness. I screw with canon, but it's not terribly relevent. You have been warned!

Cross-posted to animorphsfanfic.

Impatient

It cost me fifty bucks, the use of my car and probably my undying soul to get Tobias out of the house for the night.

Usually he's more cooperative than that but it's been a long couple of weeks for him too. So I didn't whine too much and when he bitched about having to spend the night in a hotel, I offered him my credit card. He was halfway out the door five seconds later, with a backpack full of clothes over one shoulder, talking to Rachel on the cell.

I'm pretty sure I just got played.

My moral outrage and bruised pride are swiftly beaten down by my frustrated libido, though, and Tobias manages to drive off in my car without being beaned in the back of the head with a coffee mug. Anyway, having the house to ourselves, just me and Jake for a night, is cheap at twice the cost.

When I say frustrated I mean frustrated. Screaming, tearing my hair out and kicking walls frustrated. I haven't gotten laid in two weeks and that makes for a very cranky Marco, boys and girls.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Jake were in another country, or outer space or something. Somewhere totally inaccessible where my only option was to suck it up and deal until he got back. But the only problem is that our schedules have been so conflicting lately.

Finals week hit both of us hard. Partly because of a mutual course overload: Jake's carrying 22 credits – a normal courseload is about 16 per semester. I'm taking 20 myself, not counting the non-credit labs that are required for my compsci classes. Going into finals week it just got worse. My labs started early, his workshops ran late. By the time he got home I was asleep, by the time he woke up I had left. Oh, yeah, we managed the odd kiss and grope here and there, but that's not quite the same. And, I'll be honest with you, I'm not exactly the poster boy for abstinence. Actually, I'm more of the anti-abstinence poster boy. The 'get it as often as you can and in as many interesting ways possible' poster boy.

Jake on the other hand, is very good at self-denial. There is a land out there where everyone lives in a constant state of frustrated desire, clinging desperately to some kind of bizarre belief that just because you want something isn't a good enough reason to go out and get it. Jake is their king. I think he could probably give up sex altogether and only be mildly irritable for the rest of his life. I, meanwhile, am perilously close to building some sort of super weapon in my basement.

The first few days weren't so bad – contrary to whatever Tobias may tell you we don't actually fuck every five minutes. They way he tells it we take frequent breaks from class and excuse ourselves from the dinner table just to feel each other up. I'll have you know that he is exaggerating in a gross manner. It's only every twenty minutes and don't you forget it.

A few days wasn't so bad. Even I could handle that. Then a week went by and sleeping in the same bed as him was kind of like torture. Chinese water torture – something seemingly harmless that eventually killed you in a horribly painful way. I could touch him, smell him but I was too tired to move, let alone engage in strenuous physical activities. Hell, even not-so-strenuous activities.

Right about now you're probably thinking "oh get real, it's just a couple weeks!". Well, let me ask you something: Have you ever had sex with Jake? No? Then trust me, you don't know what you're missing. You poor slobs.

So I got a little... impatient.

The last day of finals rolled around, starting like most of the others. My alarm went off a quarter to six, giving me exactly forty-five minutes to get dressed and haul my butt to the lab – which I could manage if I didn't try to eat breakfast. Jake was sprawled over most of the bed; when he's really tired he tends to just kind of fling himself onto the bed and worry about whether all of him fits after he wakes up. I crawled out from under the arm and leg pinning me to the bed and cursed my professor quite heartily.

The lab was just a final prep for the exam, which was scheduled for ten. After lunch I presented my final project for political science, sat through a handful of other presentations and at five I was officially done for the year. Grades would take a while, but I wasn't worried about that part. I'm pretty damned smart, you know.

On the way home, I hatched my evil plan.

Jake wouldn't be back for a while yet. I knew his schedule like the back of my hand and his creative writing workshop ran from 8-10. Assuming they finished on time, which they never did, and assuming that they didn't go get a drink or anything afterwards, which they probably would, the earliest he could possibly make it back to the house was 10:15. I figured he'd probably be later than that, but not much past midnight. He was as tired as I was, and I know he'd been burning the midnight oil. He was probably having longing dreams about sleeping for ten hours straight and staying in his pajamas all day.

Plus, not to toot my own horn or anything, but Jake knew my schedule, too. And I don't think it was unreasonable of me to act on the assumption that he'd enjoy having a night of hot, unrestrained sex to make up for the last week or so.

I was entertaining thoughts of, well, let's just say that I have a vivid imagination, when I got home.

Tobias was coming down the stairs when I walked in the front door. He had obviously just woken, tousled and bleary-eyed, dressed in boxer shorts and an old t-shirt that had seen better days. He yawned behind his fist and sort of made this grunting sound that I took as a greeting. I waved and pasted on my most pleasantly endearing expression. Tobias featured heavily in my evil plan. Well, at least his complacence did.

"You look cheerful," Tobias observed, planting both feet as he swayed slightly on the stairs. "Whatever you're up to, I want no part of it."

"What makes you think I'm up to anything?"

"I've known you for how long?"

Damn. He had me there. "I need a favor," I admitted, following him into the kitchen.

"No."

"I haven't even asked yet," I countered. "Maybe it's a reasonable favor. Maybe it's a favor you'll be happy to do for your dear, wonderful friend and roommate who cut you such a great deal on the rent."

"Jake cut me a good deal on the rent," Tobias shot back, poking his head inside the fridge. "Your exact words were 'hey, he's got nowhere else to go! Maybe we can make him pay the whole thing'."

"Those weren't my exact words. And I meant them in a totally supportive way."

"Then you tried to charge Rachel a visitation fee." Tobias poked half-heartedly at the contents of the fridge, taking out a tupperware container full of something sort of yellow-ish and staring at it for a minute.

"Okay, can we go back to the part where you're doing me a favor?"

Tobias abandoned the yellow stuff and started digging through the freezer. "At no point did we determine I was going to do you a favor."

"Come on." I leaned against the wall beside the refrigerator and let just a little bit of a whine creep into my voice. "Do you know how long it's been since we had five minutes alone? I just want a chance to relax tonight. No homework, no tests..."

"No roommates?" Tobias asked archly.

"I love my roommate," I said fervently. "I love how considerate and understanding he is."

"You are so full of shit, Marco."

"I especially love how willing he is to negotiate," I added with a grin.

He paused, then shut the freezer and crossed his arms. "Make this good."

Hurdle one: passed. If he was willing to hear me out I could probably talk him into something.

I started ticking off points on my fingers. "I'll lend you my car for the night, plus as often as you like for the next week."

"All summer," Tobias countered.

"Two weeks."

"End of next month."

"Deal." Tobias was planning to buy a motorcycle this summer, anyway. He probably wouldn't want the car for more than a few weeks. "As long as I don't have anything planned with my dad for that day, the car is yours."

"Of course," Tobias hedged, "I don't actually have anywhere to go tonight. Rachel's already moved out of the dorm for the summer. And it's not like I can stay at her mother's or anything."

He really couldn't. Assuming Rachel's mom didn't glare him to death, her little sisters would probably molest him in his sleep. I sighed. "Fine. I will pay for you to get a hotel room tonight. But you're staying at the Motel Six. I find any charges for the Hilton on my card I'm reporting you to the credit card company."

"Quality Inn."

"Deal."

Tobias smirked and held out his hand. I fished a credit card out of my wallet and handed it over with only a brief moment of regret.

Tobias disappeared upstairs, taking the stairs at a near run when only a few minutes ago he'd been staggering like someone on the wrong end of a five day drunk. I had barely had time to shrug out of my jacket and try to find something edible – no wonder Tobias had been so unenthusiastic about the contents of the fridge. It was like a grocery store died in there or something. Who the hell shopped this week? Oh, wait. That was supposed to be me – when he came barreling down the stairs, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his cell phone held between his shoulder and his ear. "No, the Quality Inn on Broad. Well, it's nicer than the one down on West Ingram. Yeah, completely on Marco's dime," He flashed me a toothy grin. "No it was totally bribery. What you thought he did it out of the kindness of his heart?"

I flipped him off and he laughed.

"Oh hey, Jake called earlier and said that he was going to beg out of the pub crawl tonight. So he'll be back a little after ten." Tobias grinned. "I thought that would get a smile on your face."

"Just go spend my money, you twat," I said without heat. He didn't exactly need urging; he was halfway out the front door when I suddenly remembered something. "And no room service!"

I heard my car start up, then drive away.

The house was ours for the night. And Jake was coming home earlier than expected.

Ten o'clock could not possibly come fast enough. Doctor Peabody could have shown up with the Way Back Machine and taken me into the future and it still would have involved too much waiting. I passed the time watching TV, playing video games, putzing around on the computer, reading Jake's newest issue of the US News and World Report and then spent a solid hour staring at the ceiling and mentally chanting: "Do not jump his bones as soon as he walks in the door. Do not jump his bones as soon as he walks in the door."

Just about ten-thirty, I heard his keys in the lock.

"I'm in the rec room," I called, swallowing the urge to get up and pounce.

"Hey," he called back, and damned if the sound of his voice didn't make me hard.

Don't jump his bones. Do not jump his bones. Bad Marco.

Oh to hell with it.

He appeared in the doorway, tired but smiling, having already lost his coat and backpack at some point. His hair was a mess, like it always is, and his clothes had seen better days. I wondered idly if he'd bothered doing the laundry since finals started, but that was as rational as my thought process was getting.

Fifteen seconds after he walked in the front door I had him pressed against the wall, my tongue in his mouth, my hands in his hair, and his hands working at the buttons on my jeans.

So very glad I wasn't the only one in on the gameplan for the night.

"Tobias," Jake managed to gasp.

"No," I muttered against his neck as I shoved his jeans down to his knees. "I'm Marco."

He pulled my hair for that one. "Where is Tobias, you wiseass?"

"Quality Inn, getting lucky with Rachel." He slid his hands inside my boxers and I temporarily lost my train of thought. "More of that, please."

Jake obliged enthusiastically.

It wasn't soft and fluffy, or particularly romantic, but there's something to be said for sex for sex sake. Sex's sake? Whatever. Point is I don't need flowers and silk sheets and almond scented lubricated to make this work for me. I'll take him standing up against the wall.

I'll take him any way I can get him.

And when he's gasping my name over and over, his hands gripping me, legs wrapped around me – well, trust me. I'm definitely not settling for second best.

A few minutes passed while we both concentrated on little things like breathing and not falling down. It was mostly my weight keeping us both upright; I had Jake pressed into the wall so he probably couldn't move unless he really tried. He was running his hands over my back, back and forth, soothing and arousing at the same time. "That was fun," he said a little breathlessly. "Can we do that again?"

Just the thought... "Gimme a minute and we can even do it in a bed."

He hummed into my hair. "I'll get spoiled."

I lapped at the skin of his throat, above the t-shirt I hadn't quite gotten around to removing. "And you have to take the rest of your clothes off."

"Only if you take them off of me," he countered throatily.

"Upstairs," I said in a voice so strained I barely recognized it. "Now."

****

The phone rang sometime the next morning, waking Tobias from the most restful night's sleep he'd had in days. He stirred, yawned, and waited for it to stop, which it did only to start up again.

Rachel muttered irritably and buried her head under the pillow. Tobias gave up and answered it. "Hello?"

"Tobias? S'Marco."

Tobias scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "What's up?"

Marco sounded sheepish. "Listen, wanna make a weekend of it?"

Tobias laughed, drawing a curious, sleepy gaze from Rachel. "Deal. As long as you're still paying."

"Cheap at twice the price, 'Bias."

"Yeah." He reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from Rachel's eyes, smiling. "It really is."

chaoscentral @ 2004-11-10T16:30:00

2004-11-10T21:32:04Z

YYH ficcage. PG for language and kissy-stuff.

No redeeming value. Kuwabara POV. Kurama/Kuwabara.

Much thanks to Xana, for her info on Japaense school years, graduations and exams. Any errors in this fic are undoubtedly my fault.

PS. I screwed with YYH canon for the end of the series. Just so you know.

Apologies for crossposting if you're also on the reikaiwriters comm.

Meanwhile, Back in the Ningenkai

It was a year after Urameshi had made his triumphant and rather anticlimactic return to the human world – not that he had stayed, once making his triumphant return. Instead he dropped by for a week or so, then would vanish again for a month or longer. When she was tired and stressed and missing him, Keiko would complain that it had been easier to deal with when he hadn't been around at all. Kuwabara was inclined to agree. He wasn't dating the guy or anything – dear god no – but Urameshi was a chaotic influence in their lives even when they could see him coming. Flitting back and forth between worlds like he was, they never knew when he'd be back, or what they'd be doing the next time he showed up. It tended to make Kuwabara feel like he was in a permanent game of catch-up, even moreso than Urameshi usually made him feel.

But chaotic and confusing was pretty much the natural order of things, and a year after Urameshi's return, four years after his departure, after Sensui, and just a little more than five years after Urameshi had started it all by getting himself smeared across the pavement, Keiko and Kuwabara graduated from high school.

It should be noted they did not graduate from the same high school. Keiko had gotten into Jonan Academy, a school that made prestigious sound like something the little people did. They had some of the highest standards in the country, and rumor had it that every year someone killed themselves over the entrance exams. Keiko had set her sights on it while she was still in grade school, apparently, and she'd studied her brains out to get it. No one was surprised in the least when she was accepted.

Kuwabara hadn't even thought about Jonan, even though Keiko had tugged on his sleeve once and said it would be fun if they went to the same high school in a ridiculously endearing voice. But Jonan was the sort of school Kuwabara would never see the inside of unless he was hired on as a janitor and he'd said as much. Keiko had pouted, but not pushed the subject, which made him grateful. He wanted to be serious about school, wanted to do something with his life that didn't involve fighting, but at the time he still hadn't had a clue how to go about it.

It was Kurama, perhaps unsurprisingly, who had first given him the idea.

"Have you thought about the entrance exams?" Kurama had asked him.

It had been late at night and they were in Kurama's backyard trying to act normal for his family while still processing the last few days. Kuwabara was in a foul mood, torn between a tired sort of depression and outright fury, and after losing his temper with Shizuru once too often for his own continued good health he had taken off and somehow ended up here. Kurama had welcomed him in, invited him to dinner, and kidnapped him to the backyard where they could talk without the normal humans overhearing.

Not that they were saying much.

"Yeah." Kuwabara leaned forward and stretched, feeling the wind bite through his t-shirt. He'd left in too bad a mood and too big a hurry to grab his coat and he was starting to regret it. "Sort of a dawning terror kind of thing, I guess."

"Do you know where you'll be applying?"

"I haven't thought about it." It occurred to him that no one was asking Urameshi about things like entrance exams, but then the idea of Urameshi going to high school was a pretty alien concept. He wondered what it said about him that Kurama assumed he would go. He could drop out with the best of them, after all.

But he didn't want to. He was tired of demon-hunting, tired of saving the world and really, really tired of fighting. Even with Urameshi.

Not much point anymore, after all. A human wouldn't stand much chance against an S-class demon in a fair fight. Hell, he could cheat and he'd probably still get his ass handed to him, only worse 'cause Yusuke hated dirty fighters.

"Yet," he added, because it was true. "I don't know what I'm doing yet. But I will." He would. "There's more to life than makai and tournaments, right?" He tipped his head back to look at the stars; Kurama's family lived in the suburbs and you could see some of them this far from the city lights. "Maybe I should start learning about some of it. I can't exactly make a living working for Koenma, can I?"

Especially not anymore. Sensui had been bad enough, knowing that it was a human causing all the trouble, knowing that he'd been like them once, some poor kid in over his head with demons and the spirit world. Seeing what the consequences had been – that was like a slap in the face. Most Tantei didn't live long enough to go insane, of course, and the ones that didn't go mad or die were spared because they had gotten out in time. Kuwabara didn't think Yusuke was likely to do either, but then he'd already been dead, and on a good day he wasn't entirely sane. Kuwabara himself, on the other hand, was still alive and kicking and liked to think that he had his head screwed on, if a little bit crooked. So, no more rekai tantei, not after Sensui, Not after seeing all that.

Not with the lingering conviction that it was probably his fault.

Not Sensui, he'd barely known the son of a bitch was alive. But the rest. Kuwabara was pretty sure that if he'd only managed to not get captured like some useless anime heroine then Kurama wouldn't have had to carry the weight of a ten-year-old's murder, Yusuke wouldn't have died in pain only to come back as a fucking demon – which no one else seemed to think was very weird, but he was pretty much the only human around these days, after all and Keiko was just so happy Yusuke was alive that she probably would have been happy to see him with horns and a purple nose – and just generally a lot of pain and hurt could have been avoided.

"I'm getting pretty tired of demon-hunting anyway," he said determinedly. "Maybe the next time the world needs saving, you guys should just leave me at home and not tell me."

Kurama had looked up, green eyes warm, and said, "But then how could we save it?"

Sometimes Kuwabara could hug him. He really could.

"You'd probably manage," Kuwabara said dryly. "You're the smart one, Urameshi's the strong one and Hiei's the flaming psycho nutjob. It's a good combination. You've got almost every possible situation covered."

"What if we need someone to cut through the dimensional barrier again?"

"I am so going to hell for that," Kuwabara remarked idly. "Koenma didn't go into a whole lot of detail, but I got the impression that Enma was displeased about the whole thing." He gave Kurama points for trying, but that was a pretty specialized job requirement - and if things had gotten to the point where the only way to save the day was to open a path into the demon world… well, that would suck. A lot.

"Enma will just have to adjust." Kurama sounded prickly, which didn't take Kuwabara by surprise, although he did brace himself for a lightning bolt or something.

"Anyway," Kuwabara shrugged. "I just." He was silent for a minute and realized he didn't have a clue what he meant.

"I just don't want to do anything like this ever again," he said finally.

Kurama acknowledged that silently and they sat in companionable quiet for a while. Kurama's mother waved to them from the kitchen window. They could hear his little brother playing video games upstairs.

"You should try for Meiou."

"That's funny."

"I mean it." Kurama caught him in his gaze, steady and confident. "I bet you could get in."

"Please."

"I did."

"That is exactly what I mean," Kuwabara said ruefully. "Do you have any idea what my grades look like?"

"I could hazard a guess," Kurama said dryly. "But grades aren't always indicative of intelligence. And there's time to show them what you're capable of before the entrance exams start. If your grades show marked improvement, and you pass the exams, they'd probably accept you." He plucked a leaf off the grass and twirled it between his fingers. It flashed green to red and back to green before he let it go and the breeze swept it away. "I'd help you study."

"Wow," Kuwabara remarked. "You're a masochist after all. I'd wondered."

Kurama laughed softly, a gentle exhalation and a soft smile. "Think about it."

Shiori called them in eventually and pressed hot tea and a plateful of cookies on them, which they munched on while watching Shuichi-chan try to navigate the Tarzan level in Kingdom Hearts. As he was leaving Kuwabara looked at Kurama and smiled the first real smile he'd been able to muster since Urameshi had come back to life. "Besides," he said off-hand, "could you see me in pink?"

Three days later Kuwabara was working on his homework – actually working on it, instead of scribbling random nonsense – when he looked up and saw Kurama perched in his window. After he picked himself up off the floor, he found a catalog shoved under his nose. He snatched it irritably.

"It's from Meiou," Kurama said cheerfully. "They've redesigned the high school uniforms. They're quite flattering now, don't you think?" He flashed a grin full of white teeth and threw himself backwards out the window.

Kuwabara stared at the catalogue for a long time. Longer than he'd realized, because Shizuru stopped by to say goodnight. "Can you see me at Meiou Academy?" he asked.

"Not unless they changed their uniforms," she dismissed him casually.

Wordlessly he handed her the catalogue.

"Oh," she said. "These are nice. Wow, that's going to look good on Kurama."

He rolled his eyes and her and she grinned and blew a ring of cigarette smoke in his direction. "Wouldn't look half bad on you, either."

He discovered very, very quickly that Kurama was a much better study partner than Okubo or Sawamura – not surprising, exactly – and a hell of a lot better than Urameshi. In reality, he was unable to recall a single instance when he and Urameshi had studied anything that wasn't a mission spec, an arcade game, or a particularly nice pair of legs. Kurama, on the other hand, studied everything. Everything. And he knew how to get the maximum return on his investment. By the time entrance exams rolled around Kuwabara's grades were a bit above average – an absolute miracle considering he'd been somewhere in a yawning pit of academic despair just a few months earlier. It probably didn't hurt that Kurama was a year older, so when they were studying Kuwabara managed to pick up on things the rest of the class hadn't covered. It was actually kind of nice, he decided, knowing what was going on.

Urameshi bitched constantly that he was now surrounded by nerds and brains. Keiko tartly informed him that since he wasn't inclined to use his own brains, then he should be grateful to have the rest of them around to help him out with the really tough questions, like using the remote control, and how to boil water. Hiei'd been around for that one, which was icing on the cake as far as Kuwabara was concerned.

When the time for entrance exams rolled around – and Kuwabara always thought of them as Entrance Exams, and he had a feeling that when he said the words the capitalization was actually audible – Kuwabara applied to five schools. He barely slept for a week, lived on coffee, and was a complete wreck by the time it was over.

"That was hell," he said feelingly as he dropped face down on Kurama's bed and thought yearningly of sleep. "Actual, physical hell. I no longer fear death. Nothing could possibly be worse than this."

The bed dipped slightly as Kurama settled cross-legged near his shoulder. "Waiting for the results is harder," the youko said with damnable amusement. "All that waiting, never knowing if the first word you hear will be success or disappointment. Even the most patient students get antsy."

Kuwabara was definitely not the most patient of students. He wasn't the most patient of anything. He groaned into the comforter and wondered if he could convince Shizuru to let him spend the next few weeks in a coma.

"Where did you apply?" Kurama asked.

Kuwabara shrugged. "A few places. Ryokuen." It was an all-boy boarding school outside the city limits. "Aoba. Keimei-Gakuen. Seisen." International schools, preferred by students who planned on leaving the country to go to college. Kurama shifted slightly at that but didn't say anything. "Meiou."

Kurama poked him in the shoulder. "You'll get in."

"I'm hoping for three out of five. I could be pretty happy with that." He sighed and rolled over. Kurama was leaning over, his hair a red curtain cutting out the rest of the world. "I actually feel kind of good about it. No matter what happens, I'm out of Sarayashiki. I stand half a chance of getting into a decent high school. Maybe college. I could be just a few steps away from becoming a responsible adult." He grinned. "Kinda cool and freaky all at once."

Kurama leaned over and kissed him. It lasted only a moment and was very soft and not earth-shaking so much as just very, very nice. Kuwabara was tired enough that he just blinked and said, "Oh" in a surprised sounding voice.

Kurama's smile was warm. "You'll get in."

"They've definitely done away with the pink?"

"Dead and buried."

"All right then."

There wasn't anything left to study for at the time being, so Kuwabara ended up playing video games with Shuichi-chan while Kurama helped his mother downstairs.

That was the last normal night any of them had together for a while.

Kurama was somewhere in the makai when the exam scores came back, along with Hiei and Urameshi, doing their demon thing, so they missed the celebration Keiko's parents threw over her acceptance to Jonan. Keiko had been on cloud nine, bouncing back and forth across her parents' restaurant between one group of friends and another, laughing, teasing and –toward the end of the evening – getting incredibly nervous.

Kuwabara was there, although he still felt a little weird around Keiko's parents. Yukina sat across the table from him, sipping a vanilla milkshake and being quietly happy for their friend. It had been a good night, and after everyone else had left Keiko had decided that she would help Kuwabara walk Yukina back to the temple. Kuwabara didn't point out that he'd only have to walk Keiko back to her house, which was several blocks out of the way of his house. She was in too good a mood, and just didn't want the night to end yet.

"So give," Keiko demanded when they were halfway to the temple.

He chuckled, low in his throat, genuinely amused. "I might have known you'd know."

"Shizuru tells me everything," Keiko said firmly.

"I didn't tell Shizuru," he countered. She rolled her eyes and him and Yukina giggled quietly. "Not that that's ever stopped her before," he admitted.

Keiko slipped her hand into his and very nearly started skipping. "So?"

"I got into Ryokuen," he told her, letting a grin work its way over his face. Compared to Jonan it wasn't much, but it was still a good school. Still more than he'd expected to ever get accepted into.

"And?"

"And Seisen and Keimei Gakuen. And Aoba." That had actually been his last choice, but still.

Keiko was practically vibrating in place now. "And?"

"And," he teased, "I may have gotten into Meiou."

Keiko shrieked and threw her arms around him while Yukina laughed delightedly. They dragged him to the temple where Yukina informed Genkai of the news and the old hag broke out the sake. Keiko fell asleep on the tatami mats and Genkai called her parents to tell them she'd be spending the night. Yukina kissed Kuwabara on the cheek before he left and Genkai gave him a look that wasn't entirely displeased.

He made it back to the house, where Shizuru was already asleep, and slept better than he had in weeks.

Kurama called from the makai two days later – and Kuwabara was damned if he could figure out how anyone, even an anyone as impressive as Kurama, could make a phone call from the demon world – and informed Kuwabara that the tournament was more fun the first time around.

"Of course it was," Kuwabara laughed. "I was there the first time."

"That's probably what it is," Kurama said. "This tournament is all blood and violence. A hundred demons spitting on each other because they can. There's no heart here."

Kuwabara spent the rest of the day feeling inordinately pleased.

No one did anything productive that spring. Keiko helped her parents in the restaurant but spent most of her days at the temple with Yukina and occasionally Botan. Kuwabara joined them most days, training with Genkai for lack of anything better to do. He wasn't looking for any mystical secrets, but he did learn three new ways to kill someone without using his reiki. It occurred to him, not for the first time that Genkai was a scary old hag, but she certainly knew her stuff.

Halfway through the break, Shizuru announced they were moving. She announced it by flinging open his bedroom door at 5:30 am and throwing a pile of cardboard boxes onto the bed. He spent a confused couple of minutes wondering if she was kicking him out, then an annoyed several hours demanding to know why she hadn't bothered mentioning this to him sooner than the day she actually planned on moving. He stopped bitching when she threatened to charge him rent, and they actually managed to get a lot done that day. Keiko came and helped, and she brought Genkai who contributed largely by barking directions to everyone else. After lunch Kuwabara slipped off and returned dragging Okubo and Sawamura – and Mitarai of all people, who he'd just sort of run into – to help.

The new house was a little bigger, a little nicer – although the last place had been pretty nice all things considered. Atsuko showed up with a bag full of alcohol once they were all moved in and there was no risk of being asked to carry anything, and they toasted the new house.

"Have you heard from Yusuke?" he asked Keiko before she left, but she just shook her head.

Kurama called again, but the connection was terrible – it sounded like he was standing in the middle of a thunderstorm – and he was saying something about Hiei having a girlfriend. Shizuru laughed herself sick when he repeated that tidbit and Yukina looked thoughtful.

There was a demon, which surprised him only a little. He and Keiko dealt with it largely by accident, and Koenma showed up in person long enough to offer Kuwabara a "get out of the reikai tantei free" card, which was only fair since technically Kuwabara'd never signed on in the first place.

Later, he couldn't explain to anyone's satisfaction why he didn't take it.

Everyone came back, even Hiei for a day or two, and for a while it was all fairly normal, albeit from their somewhat skewed perspective. Normal involved no one being dead, and the only demons hanging around were the ones who weren't inclined to kill them, Hiei excepting, but Yukina did a good job of keeping him in line. Kuwabara accepted the normalcy and didn't press too hard because he had a feeling it wasn't going to last.

"You could have come with us," Urameshi said one night when they'd stayed up till dawn watching zombie flicks and drinking enough that the movies didn't suck.

"I'd have been killed," Kuwabara said sourly and it wasn't pessimism speaking.

"You didn't have to fight. You could've just come."

"I'd have been bored." Kuwabara objected lightly. He didn't say that it would have hurt to see the others going on without him, that it was self-preservation as much as anything that kept him in the human world this time around. "Or someone would have killed me to piss you off again."

It was a low blow, but it worked. Urameshi dropped the subject and didn't bring it up again. He left a few days later.

Kurama swung by at the end of spring break, a week or two before classes started, and announced he was leaving for a few days. "Yomi will not accept my absence for too long," he said with a shrug, and only one of his friends would have noticed the tight thread of irritation running through his voice. Urameshi and Hiei thought this whole kingdom thing was great, but Kurama it seemed had other ideas. Kuwabara wondered why he'd competed at all if he wasn't looking for power, but he'd learned by now to hold his tongue. Kurama slid a soft hand over his cheek and around the back of his neck. "I'll be back for the first day. If you're late I'll be disappointed."

Kuwabara smiled and promised to be on time.

He was almost a liar except for Keiko. The day classes started he woke to someone knocking on the door and realized that his alarm clock was blinking 12:00 at him in bright red digits. He swore colorfully and tumbled out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans on his way to the front door.

It was Keiko, looking like she'd just stepped out of a magazine, her hair pulled back and her brown skirt and jacket immaculately arranged. Kuwbara took a moment to appreciate the fact that Jonan made some very attractive uniforms before remembering he was wearing nothing but his underwear and an unzippered pair of jeans. "The power went out," he explained, hiding half behind the door and manfully ignoring Keiko's giggles.

"I know." She was bouncing up and down on her toes, bouncing the brand new book satchel Atsuko had given her against her knees. "I use the alarm on my cell phone just in case. I thought you might need a wake-up call."

He didn't say anything about the fact that she was so dedicated to her studies that she routinely prepared for power failures. "What time is it?"

"Six-thirty. Well, a few minutes past." Keiko shouldered her way inside, not too bothered by the presence of a nearly-naked boy. But then, she'd grown up with Urameshi who made inhibitions sound like an endangered species.

"Six-thirty?" he stared. "You're ready to go by six-thirty?"

"And a good thing I am, isn't it?" she replied tartly. "I'll make breakfast, you go get dressed."

He showered, dressed and grabbed his things before heading back downstairs. He paused in the doorway, feeling a little conspicuous and a little like an imposter. Keiko was making eggs and toast over the stove. "That looks nice," she said approvingly. "Those silly tunics were so old-fashioned. This makes a much nicer statement."

Kuwabara had never actually thought of school uniforms as having a statement before, besides the fairly obvious one of which school the wearer went to, but in this case he supposed he could agree, even if the message was 'I'm wearing slacks and a tie'. Keiko's uniform certainly made a couple of statements, the first and most obvious one being 'this cost a hell of a lot of money'. It had, in fact, cost enough that her parents had only been able to afford one. Atsuko and Shizuru had chipped in and gotten her two others so she didn't have to wash it every night. His own hadn't been as bad, though still light-years beyond Sarayashiki – but everything was light-years beyond that place now, including them.

"Eggs?" he said finally, and she waved him toward the table. Two plateful of eggs and toast appeared a second later, followed by juice and they ate in silence, both nervous for different reasons.

They left the dishes in the sink for Shizuru when she got back from work and started walking. Jonan was closer than Meiou – it would probably have been more efficient to take the bus, which he'd been planning to do before Keiko showed up at his front door – but they were marginally in the same direction. And they'd been walking to school together for two years now and some habits just died hard.

Jonan was as impressive as its uniforms – a large stone building with a landscaped campus and actual gates just in case a B- student tried to sneak in, no doubt. Keiko hesitated and tipped her head to the side. "Do you really think he'll be back?" she asked.

Of course, he almost said, it's the first day of school. He'd never miss that. But he held his tongue at the last minute because he knew Keiko probably wasn't thinking about Kurama.

He wasn't sure why he was, for that matter.

"Course he will," he said firmly. "You think he could stay away from you for very long?"

"Three years is feeling pretty long to me."

"Think of all the studying you'll get done without Yusuke to distract you. All the friends you'll make without him to frighten them off. All the grey hairs and heart attacks you'll avoid." He grinned and risked death by mussing up her hair, laughing when she shrieked and squirmed out of reach. "You'll need those three years just to get your strength built up. Can you imagine what kind of a terror he's going to be when he finally gets back?"

Keiko smiled a little unsteadily and smoothed her hair back into place. "Thank you, Kuwabara-kun."

He shrugged. "Just the truth."

"You should get going. You'll be late. Kurama will be mad." She grinned knowingly although he couldn't for the life of him figure out what she was all knowing about.

Kuwabara was not late. Kurama was present. No one was mad and the first day was remarkable only in its sheer normalcy. A few of Kurama's friends recognized Kuwabara, which might not prove to be a good thing, exactly. But Kurama's word was law at that school, a fact Kuwabara noted and made prompt plans to abuse in the near future.

And eventually, years passed.

Kurama graduated in late February the same year Yusuke finally came back. It was long, boring and Kuwabara would have fallen asleep several times if Keiko and Shizuru hadn't both threatened him with death if he did. He didn't feel too bad about it when he realized the graduates all looked as bored as he was.

Kurama's parents threw a celebration and invited everyone, right down to Genkai who declined the invitation on the grounds that she'd rather be dead. Kurama found a nicer way to phrase that, something about Genkai being deeply involved with a student at the moment – which made Kuwabara snicker about a student named Game Mao and excuse himself before the red-head turned on him.

The party itself was low-key, but Shiori kept the food coming and everyone went home relaxed. Kuwabara offered to help clean up and Kurama accepted with a thoughtful look that set of warning bells in the back of his head. But he pitched in and helped clean up and by the time they were done it was late enough that Shiori asked him to stay the night. He crashed on a roll-out futon in Kurama's room and fell asleep to weird dreams about serving drinks in a demon restaurant. It was disconcerting all by itself, and then he woke to movement, the scent of shampoo and aftershave and the weight of strong hands at his shoulders and a slender body straddling his hips. His instincts kicked in, whispering Kurama's name in time to keep him from lashing out – trying to throw Kurama probably would have just ended up with him embarrassing himself anyway – and he blinked up into the night, trying to shed the last tendrils of the dream. Kurama leaned forward and red hair brushed against the side of his face, spiderwebs in the dark, but it felt good. And the Kurama was kissing him and that felt great.

"What is this?" he asked quietly.

"This is you finally being old enough that I don't feel like a pedophile," Kurama replied easily.

He thought about that for a minute. In his human body, Kurama was only a year older than he was. "This may not be the time, but how old are you?"

He'd gone to sleep in his boxers, since he didn't exactly have pajamas hidden under his suit, and Kurama's hands on his chest were very warm. Very warm. Kind of distracting, as a matter of fact. He closed his eyes and completely missed whatever answer Kurama gave him.

Spring break passed. Kurama worked through most of it, having opted out of college, going straight into a position at his step-father's company. Everyone was surprised, maybe even Kurama. He was looking for a place to live, but he wasn't in any hurry yet. He spent a lot of time after work at Kuwabara's, which didn't bother the younger boy at all. Although he did nearly have to kill himself when Shizuru found out.

Then classes were starting again, Kuwabara found out that he was starting the year near the top of his class, Shizuru landed a new job through some contacts of Atsuko's, Genkai decided that she wasn't talking to anyone under a hundred years old and kicked them all out of the temple for a couple weeks, Kido shanghaied them into dealing with a pack of half-bloods trying to cause trouble at his school and Keiko decided that a picnic on the beach was just the thing they all needed.

Between freaking out about all the possibly illegal things Shizuru was now doing for a living, the fact that his schoolwork had tripled in his senior year, and the fact that years after he'd called it quits he was still fighting demons, damnit, Kuwabara's last thought in the world was that Yusuke's three years were almost up.

They nixed Keiko's picnic idea, but Shizuru took her shopping and they all agreed to meet after lunch. Genkai condescended to talk to them all just for the day. Yukina decided to join them, taking a lot of the tension out of the day, as far as Kuwabara was concerned. The beach was nice. Keiko was a little on the quiet side. Kuwabara spent the day wondering what she'd do if Yusuke didn't show up soon.

Nobody had a lot of fun.

Then he showed up just as they were all ready to leave.

Son of a bitch, Kuwabara thought. How does he always do that?

And the thing of it was, nothing changed.

"It's a rip-off," he complained to Kurama one weekend afternoon less than a month after Yusuke came back. They were waiting for the train to take them downtown. Kurama had to stop by the office to drop off some paperwork and then they were going to a baseball game.

"Oh?" the red-head didn't seem terribly outraged on his behalf, but Kuwabara was willing to overlook that considering that an outraged Kurama usually meant someone was dead and things weren't that bad yet.

"Three years everyone's walking around counting the days till Urameshi comes back," Kuwabara said irritably. "Three years!"

"Three years," Kurama agreed.

A group of school-aged girls gathered on the platform a few feet down and began staring at Kurama.

"It's a rip-off!" Kuwabara repeated. "Three years!"

Kurama's expression became less patient and slightly pained.

"I'm just saying. We spend three years waiting for that little shit to show his face again, three years waiting around with our lives on hold, and now he's back and nothing's different." He jammed his hands in his coat pockets and glared balefully at the tracks.

Kurama made a non-committal humming sound.

One of the schoolgirls giggled, then hid behind her friends.

"Is your life on hold?" Kurama asked.

Kuwabara gave him a confused look. "What?"

"Your life," Kurama asked patiently. "Was it on hold all this time?"

"I-" He stopped himself, thinking about it.

Kurama waited.

"Well," he said slowly, "aside from getting into a good school, and moving into a new house, making the team at school, finding out about Yukina and Hiei, working with Genkai and Kido and Botan, that whole demon thing a few years ago, the demon thing a few weeks ago, getting my driver's license and being at the top of my class for the first time ever when four years ago I'd have told you I'd never make it to high school at all. Aside from that."

Kurama lifted an eyebrow at him.

Kuwabara hid a grin. "You were just a distraction."

The youko tipped his head to the side, indicating the girls just a few feet away. "I bet I could tell them we were sleeping together and they'd rip your head off for me."

"They probably would." He eyed them warily. In four years at Meiou Academy he had developed a healthy fear of Kurama's fanclubs.

"A distraction, hm?"

"Well," he shrugged, "a good one."

"The schoolgirls are starting to look appealing," Kurama mused thoughtfully. "At least I could be certain I had their complete attention."

"They'd latch onto you like lampreys," Kuwabara disagreed. "They'd suck your blood like vampires. Angsty, whiny, emotional, vampiric lampreys."

"Yes," Kurama said impassively. "Such teenagers."

Kuwabara gave him a narrow-eyed glare. "That was low, Kurama."

"A distraction, hm?"

"Maybe not a distraction, exactly."

"Hmm."

Kuwabara rubbed a hand over his chin, glanced at Kurama out of the corner of his eye. "A change, maybe."

"A change."

"A good change." A very good change.

"Even without Yusuke?"

Kuwabara grinned. "Yusuke can stay the hell out of this."

He did, for the most part. He came, he went, he spent more time in the makai than he did in the human world and Keiko's temper reached boiling point once a month. The school year went by quickly and by February, Keiko was in a constant state of near-insanity. She was valedictorian and the additional responsibilities on top of everything else she had on her plate made her interesting to be around. Kuwabara ended up eighth out of – well, he wasn't sure exactly, but it was a lot more than eight. He almost choked when he found out.

Urameshi showed up sometime in early February and made the extremely foolish mistake of asking why everyone was so keyed up.

Kuwabara leaned against the wall, catching a smoke while he listened to the rising voices coming from inside the little ramen shop Keiko's parents ran. He'd have gone farther, given them some real privacy, but it was raining and nothing sucked quite as much as a wet cigarette. So he tried to tune them out and waited for someone to go storming off.

It didn't take long. A few minutes later Urameshi stalked out the door with his hands jammed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the rain. Kuwabara knocked the ash loose from the end of his cigarette and glanced inside.

It was nearly midnight, and the shop was long since closed. Keiko stood in the middle of the restaurant, her hands crossed over her chest, her eyes closed. She looked up when he opened the door and managed a tired smile. "Go on," she said with a little wave. "I'm fine. Kick the shit out of him."

He gave her a rueful look and ducked back outside. Urameshi hadn't made it far. He was standing in the rain halfway down the block. Kuwabara took his time, let his footsteps make some sound on the sidewalk, but Urameshi didn't seem to feel like bolting.

"So, graduation, huh?" Urameshi asked as he approached. "I can't believe I forgot about that."

"Hasn't happened yet," Kuwabara pointed out.

"Yeah. March, right?"

"First weekend."

"Yours too, isn't it?"

"Same day, even."

"Huh." Urameshi grabbed the damp cigarette out of his hand so quickly Kuwabara didn't even see him move. "I can stick around that long."

"That'd make Keiko happy." Well, it would be a start at least.

"Shizuru throwing a party?" Urameshi asked suddenly.

Kuwabara contemplated swiping his cigarette back. "No, actually. Keiko's parents offered the ramen shop. They're going to do a joint thing."

"Nice of them."

"Yeah." He gave up on the cigarette. It was kind of pointless, considering that the thing had been nearly burned down before Urameshi grabbed it.

"All right then." Urameshi took a deep drag off the cigarette, then flicked it at Kuwabara's face. "So. Kurama."

Kuwabara batted it away into the rain.

"That's cool. Kurama, I mean." Urameshi shrugged. "Kinda weird. I'm gonna have to ask him what he was thinking."

"If he tells you, pass it along. I haven't figured it out myself yet."

They walked silently in the rain for a few blocks. Kuwabara fished out another cigarette and didn't complain when Yusuke swiped the last one in the pack. They stopped outside Kuwabara's house and Urameshi stared up at the windows. Kuwabara realized Urameshi had probably never been there before.

"So," Urameshi said. "Do you, like, live in fear of Hiei or anything?"

Kuwabara smacked him upside the back of the head. "Go home. Come back tomorrow and apologize to Keiko." He ground his cigarette under his heel and added, "And don't ask Kurama what he was thinking, for God's sake."

Urameshi paused. "Why not?"

Kuwabara grinned. "Because it's very possible he wasn't thinking. And getting him to start now really isn't in my best interests." He tossed a salute to a snickering Urameshi and went inside.

Two days before graduation Keiko showed up at his front door at nearly seven in the morning. Nothing out of the ordinary – they'd been walking to school together since middle school, the only difference now was that she picked him up instead of vice versa. Kuwabara shrugged on his jacket, grabbed his book bag and met her at the door.

"Did Yusuke tell you anything about this weekend?" she demanded.

He frowned at her quizzically. "No?"

"Nothing?" she quizzed.

"Nothing," he confirmed. "Why, what did he do?"

"I don't know." She bounced her bag off her knees and huffed irritably. "Mom and Dad changed the party. They told me this morning that it's not being held at the shop anymore."

Kuwabara caught the sleeve of her coat as she almost stepped off the sidewalk into traffic. "Oh? How does that involve Yusuke?"

"I don't know. But it must. Why else would they change it?"

"Where are they changing it to?"

"The park."

If it was an arcade, bar or brothel, Kuwabara could definitely see Urameshi's hand in it. But the park was not high on the list of Urameshi's favorite hangouts. "The park," he said thoughtfully. "And we're sure this has nothing to do with your parents thinking that the weather's going to be nice this weekend so maybe a party in the park will be nice and a little less cramped? Because there's going to be about fifty people crammed into your restaurant, and that's going to involve some lack of personal space. Possibly a crow bar as well."

"A-" Keiko paused. "A crow bar?"

"To pry the last few in," Kuwabara explained.

"This isn't my parents wanting to be outside. This is Yusuke meddling somehow."

"Yeah. Whenever I think of a parent-chaperoned party in the park I think of Urameshi Yusuke."

Keiko gave him a withering glare. "You're not being productive."

Well, no, but then he couldn't really see anything that required him to be productive at the moment. "Keiko-chan, so what if he is involved? So far nothing illegal is going on, the only demon involved is Urameshi himself, and he's involved in something important to you. It could be worse."

Keiko hugged her bookbag to her chest and sighed. "Yusuke doesn't plan well," she said plaintively.

Having been in on what passed for a plan with Urameshi many times in the past, Kuwabara nodded in whole-hearted agreement.

With a tired sigh, she rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I'm being horrible, aren't I? He's just trying to help. I'm the one who was so mad at him because he wasn't getting involved."

"You're not being horrible."

"I'll stay out of it, let him think he's surprising me." Her expression hardened. "But so help me God, if the police show up at my graduation party I'll send him back to the makai in ten different pieces."

Kuwabara found Urameshi at Genkai's. "What are you doing?"

Urameshi was sprawled on the floor in his jeans and a t-shirt, no shoes or socks, balancing a bowl of cereal on his stomach while he watched TV. "I'm watching Naruto," he replied absently. "This is pretty good. How come I've never seen it before?"

"I don't think the makai gets cable." Kuwabara leaned against the wall a few feet away and stared at the back of Urameshi's head. "Keiko thinks you're conspiring with her parents."

"I wouldn't say conspiring." Urameshi slurped the milk out of the bottom of the bowl. "Keiko's folks aren't really the type to be involved in a conspiracy, you know?"

"There are no police involved?"

"Not yet!"

"Don't sound excited about the possibility." Kuwabara pushed off against the wall and crossed the room to stand over Urameshi. "Whatever you're up to, it isn't going to come crashing down on Keiko, is it?"

Urameshi finished off the milk with a satisfied smacking of the lips and dropped the bowl with a clatter. "Not this time. This is nothing, Kuwabara. Stop worrying."

Kuwabara snorted. "I've done nothing but worry since you got back, asshole. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop." He sighed and lowered himself to sit cross-legged beside Urameshi. "So what episode is it?"

Graduation was as mind-numbingly dull as Kuwabara remembered Kurama's being. Before it was over he was convinced that every member of the faculty down to the janitor had made a speech of some sort. He just concentrated on maintaining an expression of low-key excitement on his face, no matter how thoroughly they'd managed to kill that emotion.

It was an outdoor ceremony, and as promised, the weather was great. Chairs had been set up on the athletic field behind the school, and a sea of parents and siblings spread out in front of the stage. He recognized younger classmates and a few friends who weren't graduating this year. Shizuru and Yukina were sitting with Kurama and his mother and little brother a few rows back, and Sawamura and Mitarai were sitting in the row behind them. He skimmed the fringes of the crowd and easily spotted Botan lingering at the edge. She'd overdressed for the occasion, he mused cheerfully, but she looked like a knock-out.

The audience seemed to be having more fun than he was. Shizuru had an expression on her face that said clearly she'd kill him if he rolled his eyes or started snoring. Kurama was smirking in a decidedly "now it's your turn" kind of way. It was very unflattering and he projected that feeling at the redhead as strongly as he could. Judging by how the smirk became even more pronounced, Kurama heard him.

Yukina beamed widely at him each time their eyes met, and eventually his smile became less forced and more genuinely pleased. She could still raise his spirits with just a smile.

His gaze slid back over to Kurama. Things certainly had a way of turning out like you least expected. Instead of killing Urameshi, they'd ended up friends. Instead of hooking up with a sweet girl like Yukina – or Botan, he still remembered their first meeting – he'd found himself falling for a demonic thief. He'd never planned on going to high school or college, and now he was graduation one and preparing to start the other. And the demon thing, he mused. Definitely didn't see that one coming.

The eight hundredth speech was finished, the scholarships and achievements were declared, and the principal began handing out diplomas.

It was early afternoon when everything was finished, and the graduates were released to rejoin their families. Kuwabara, feeling hugely conspicuous in his robes, met his sister and friends at the edge of the stage. He was greeted with a flurry of hugs from the girls, and Shiori kissed his cheek while Mitarai and Sawamura slapped his back with more enthusiasm that he'd thought either one would be able to muster for something school-related. Kurama waited until everyone had finished before he offered Kuwabara his hand and said, in a low, pleased voice that sent a shiver down Kuwabara's spine, "I knew you'd do it."

Kuwabara gripped the offered hand and held it tightly. "Not without you, man."

Shizuru smiled knowingly while Shiori looked pleased at the compliment to her son. Then Urameshi was there with a shit-eating grin, nearly knocked Kuwabara into a wall to display his congratulations and asked why they hadn't left for the party yet.

The party turned out to be neither demon-infested (if one dismissed Urameshi and Kurama) nor implicitly illegal in nature. Kuwabara was impressed.

Picnic tables were covered in paper table clothes. Lanterns hung from the trees. The odd ice sculpture betrayed Yukina's involvement and she blushed prettily when they complimented her. There was enough food to feed a third world nation, unsurprising since Keiko's parents had catered the event themselves. And there was music playing.

"You didn't screw up," Kuwabara said cheerfully.

Urameshi aimed a half-hearted punch at his head, which he let Kuwabara dodge. "You shut up and have a good time before I decide to take my party back."

Shiori stayed long enough to offer her congratulations to Keiko as well, then she and Shuichi left. Their absence was hardly noticed though, considering that Keiko's relatives will filling the park in an ever-increasing throng. Kuwabara didn't know any of them, and it was obvious that most of them weren't around much because they seemed to be under the impression that he was some kind of cousin who had also graduated that day. After the fifteenth explanation of "no, no, Keiko and I are just friends – no, I'm not that Yusuke fellow" he gave up explaining and just smiled when they offered their congratulations.

Keiko's parents may have provided the food, but someone-who-was-probably-Urameshi had supplied a variety of alcohol that would make any recovering alcoholic burst into tears and very soon the party-goers were in a very good mood.

"I asked Kurama what he was thinking." Urameshi appeared at his side with two cups full of something clear, one of which he offered Kuwabara.

"You asked him what?" Kuwabara frowned at the cup. Sake? Then their conversation from a few days ago came back to him and he almost dropped the cup in favor of throttling Urameshi instead. "You what?"

"Know what he said?" Urameshi was grinning like a man who had no idea his life was in danger.

"I'm afraid to ask. You look like you enjoyed it too much for it to be good." He gulped the contents of the cup, feeling the sake burn his throat. He crumpled the empty paper cup and threw it in Urameshi's face. "Son of a bitch."

"You're such an easy target." Urameshi rocked back and forth on his toes. "I don't even have to try, you know that?"

"Go bother Keiko for a while."

"He said he thought you were just that hot." Urameshi waggled his eyebrows obscenely.

"Oh, he did not," Kuwabara said disgustedly. "Since when are you such a bad liar?"

Urameshi laughed and ducked off into the crowd. Kuwabara glared after him for a second.

"He said he was thinking about you." Urameshi reappeared on his other side, making Kuwabara jump slightly. "That's what he said. He was thinking about you."

Kuwabara reached over without looking and smacked the side of his head. He'd have thrown a punch if he thought Urameshi would have let it land. "What part of "don't ask Kurama" did you have such a hard time with?"

Urameshi shrugged. "Have I ever listened to you?"

"No," Kuwabara said sourly.

"Then you probably should have seen it coming." Urameshi slapped him on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd again.

The party went on well past dinner, the sake flowing freely, the food being demolished, and Urameshi and Shizuru went on two beer runs. Toward the end of the evening, when the lanterns were lit and people were getting ready to go home, Keiko's parents announced her engagement to Urameshi. That started the whole party up again.

"Inheriting his father's business," Kuwabara mused. "That's a nice piece of obfuscation."

"It's not entirely a lie," Kurama offered in an amused tone. "He did inherit from Raizen."

"I think Keiko's folks are thinking more along the lines of a shoe store or something," Kuwabara returned idly, swirling the dregs of his beer and listening to it slosh against the sides of the can. "Not so much the "prince of the demon world" kind of thing."

"They've known Yusuke a long time," Kurama said. "They might not be all that surprised."

They were sitting side by side with their backs to a tree, several yards away from the rest of the celebration. Kuwabara was just about partied out, but he was also having too much fun to leave yet. Kurama seemed content to sit and watch the others celebrating while nursing his own drink. It was possibly the same one he'd had when the party started several hours earlier. Kurama didn't strike Kuwabara as a heavy drinker.

"I heard you and Yusuke talking earlier," Kurama said quietly.

"Oh?" Kuwabara let his head rest against the tree behind him. "What exactly did Urameshi ask you anyway?"

"Just what he said. He walked up to me and said, I quote: "What were you thinking, Kurama?" It took some interrogating but I figured out what his general meaning was."

"Urameshi's an asshole."

"Urameshi's your friend," Kurama corrected gently. "If I found out that my best friend was getting involved with someone like me, I'd be concerned, too." He moved slightly, and Kuwabara could feel him shrug. "I've done some pretty cold-hearted things while you've known me. He was being careful."

And that was typical Kurama. "Now I can't be angry at him," Kuwabara said irritably. "I was very happy being angry at him. I'm good being angry at him."

Kurama's voice was a purr in his ear. "There are other things you're good at."

Kuwabara turned his head to the side. It was full dark, but the light from the party was enough to see by. "You really told him you were thinking about me?"

"For some time now," Kurama agreed. "I told you. I was just waiting for you to get old enough."

"I always half figured you and Hiei were together." Kuwabara shrugged. "Of course, I also thought Hiei was in love with Yukina, so I'm obviously not the best judge."

Kurama laughed low in his throat and leaned over to kiss him.

"You're going to live off campus, right?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because your sister is bad enough. I wasn't looking forward to dealing with a roommate." Kurama grinned as Kuwabara laughed. "Are you almost ready to head home?"

"Yeah. Let's say goodnight to Keiko first." Kuwabara stood, brushing the grass from his clothes and offered Kurama a hand up, which the redhead accepted and didn't relinquish.

"Keiko looks distracted," Kurama said thoughtfully. "We'd have to fight through a horde of relatives to get within ten feet of her. It could take the better part of an hour just to say goodnight."

Kuwabara grinned.

"Let's not take her away from her family," Kurama said, leading Kuwabara away from the party. "Shizuru hasn't left yet, has she?"

"She's chatting up one of Keiko's uncles. I think he's in lust with her already."

"Good for her," Kurama said approvingly. "So you'll have the house to yourself tonight?"

A warmth settled in Kuwabara's chest and he smiled. "Well, I was going to see if you wanted to hang out."

"I already told Kaasan I was staying out tonight."

"I love the way your mind works," Kuwabara said earnestly. "I've told you that before, haven't I?"

They skimmed the edge of the party, heading toward the street. Urameshi spotted them and leered suggestively. Kuwabara flipped him off. Kurama ignored them both.

The party went on without them.

chaoscentral @ 2004-11-01T02:09:00

2004-11-01T07:15:25Z

Post-series AU. Basically, I ignored canon in many, many ways.

This is an alternate ending to Birdwatching. I said "Hey, what if Marco wasn't there to call the ambulance?" and the next thing I knew Jake was dead and haunting people. Go figure. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to write.

Warning for language. Marco/Jake content. This is unfinished, but I felt like I should acknowledge Halloween in some way and posting a ghost story seemed like as good an idea as any.

(and I know it's 2 AM but it's Halloween still somewhere)

Rachel stopped outside the old house, tipped her head back and stared up at the windows. No lights were on yet, but it was still early enough in the evening that they weren't essential, and if Marco was on the computer, reading, or watching TV, he tended to not notice the light changing until he couldn't see at all. Tobias was only slightly better, but he wasn't home tonight. When Rachel had spoken to him earlier, he had mentioned his plan to attend a study group for his bio final, and from the grim sound of his voice he'd planned it to be a long one. No one in the class was doing very well, and the study session was almost mandatory to passing. Tobias would be gone for hours.

But Marco should be there.

Marco was usually pretty easy to find, nowadays. Classes, work, home. Occasionally he would go visit his father, or would go out with some friends, or let Tobias or Ax or Rachel talk him into a movie, or a hike. But most of the time, he was right here.

Her neck cricked a little from staring straight up, and she rubbed the kink out thoughtfully. She had her own key, and not so long ago she'd had no problems barging in and making herself at home. The guys hadn't minded, and as long as she knocked before barging into Jake and Marco's room, then there was no reason for her to act like a guest.

Jake and Marco were the reason she was so hesitant now.

Sometimes the reality of it still snuck up on her, ambushing her from behind in memories, and the awful realization that it was over. She hadn't been there when it happened, but she could imagine how it had come about. She could still hear Tobias' voice, cracked and shaken, telling her to drop whatever plans she'd had and to meet him somewhere right away.

It's Jake, Rache. It’s bad.

She'd thought up a hundred different things that could be "bad" on her way to meet Tobias. A fire, a fall down the stairs, a robbery, a car accident, a sickness, the list went on and on. She would have laughed at her own overactive imagination, if not for the shaken sound of Tobias' voice.

It was getting chilly out, and she rubbed her arms briskly as she took the porch steps two at a time. Her key fit the lock perfectly – surprised her, sometimes, because it was almost like it was a different house now – and she let herself in.

The house was warmer than outdoors, though it was residual, and not because the heat was on. No lights shone around any of the doors, so Rachel took the stairs in the dark. "Anybody home?" she called in a bright voice. Marco didn't mind surprise visits, but when he thought she was checking up on him he reacted badly.

There was a sound from the largest bedroom, the one Jake and Marco had shared for two years. Then Marco's voice called to her. "I'm in here."

He was sprawled on the bed, and he looked as if he'd been asleep before she called. He propped himself up on his elbows as she entered, and offered her a suspiciously shaky smile.

She rubbed her arms absently – it was much colder in here than it had been in the hallway. "Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't know you were asleep."

"Don't sweat it," he told her. "I'm glad you woke me up." His face was pale, and drawn with exhaustion – whatever sleep he'd gotten before she arrived obviously hadn't been enough.

"You look like crap," she said cheerfully. "Geez, Marco, it's freezing in here. Close the window."

He gave her a funny look, but only said, "It's not open."

"Heating this room must cost an arm and a leg." Rachel flopped down on the edge of the bed and grabbed the throw blanket draped across the foot of the bed. "I was planning on seeing if Tobias wanted to grab something to eat," she lied smoothly, "but it doesn't look like he's around. You hungry?"

She knew he was going to say no, and he did, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not really hungry, Rachel. But thanks."

"Come on," she wheedled. "I'm starving and I hate eating alone. I'll get carry out and come back here?" He hesitated just long enough for her to take it as a capitulation. "Great," she said. "What do you want? Chinese? Pizza? Not pizza. There's a KFC not too far away from here. Mashed potatoes, mmm. Sound good? Cool. I'll be back in twenty. You have anything to drink around here?"

Marco rolled his eyes at her, but didn't put up a fight. "There's soda in the fridge. And that limeade stuff."

"Good enough, I suppose. Let's eat downstairs. It's freezing in here. I don't know how you could sleep like this." She bounced off the bed, nearly slipping as her right foot nearly slid out from under her. She looked down and frowned. "Marco?"

"Yeah?" A ton of wary defensiveness was packed into that one word.

"Why the hell is there a puddle of water all over the floor?"

He stared at her for a moment, then deliberately got out of bed on the other side. "Good question," he said levelly. "I'm going to turn the heat on." He left the room, leaving Rachel to stare at the floor in bewilderment.

****

Dinner was a 10-piece bucket of original recipe, four sides of mashed potatoes – one for Tobias when he got home, and an extra for Rachel – gravy, coleslaw and biscuits. Marco provided a round of sodas and napkins. There was a video store next to the KFC, and Rachel ducked in long enough to rent something mindless and violent. The whole thing set her back almost thirty bucks. It was worth it.

Marco had gotten thin lately, even though he didn't seem to be skipping meals anymore. Rachel watched him inhale four pieces of chicken, his mashed potatoes, everyone's coleslaw, two biscuits and come back for Tobias' mashed potatoes as well. The movie was stupid, and they spent so much time ridiculing the cheesy lines that neither one was entirely certain what was going on. Marco was in fine form, shooting insults and sarcasm at the characters so rapidly that she could barely keep up. Rachel grinned at him from behind her soda, pleased to see that the dark mood he'd been in briefly seemed to be fading.

Tobias staggered in close to midnight, chilled, exhausted and pissy that there weren't any mashed potatoes. He climbed the stairs slowly to clean up and groaned. "Marco, it's fucking freezing up here!"

Marco froze, his spine straight and his eyes hard. He stared at the screen, but no longer seemed to be paying any attention to it. "The heat's not on, that's all."

"I thought you were going to turn it on?" Rachel asked. "It was cold up there before, too. Maybe the windows in your room need to be resealed?"

He nodded slowly, just once. "That sounds plausible."

It did, but it certainly wasn't the truth. The rest of the house was warm and comfortable – the whole place seemed to retain warmth easily – but the heat was off. If Marco's window was leaking cold, or was cracked, then the cold would have spread through the house. Rachel set her soda down and frowned at Marco.

He noticed her attention and shrugged. "I'll just haul out the electric blanket until I can get the window looked at."

"That was utterly lacking in conviction," she said flatly. "What's going on?"

The look he gave her was classic Marco: amused, condescending, utterly insincere. "Well, Rachel, you found me out. I'm keeping Frosty the Snowman prisoner in my closet and I won't let him out till Santa promises to bring me my own Lear Jet. That puddle of water just means that Santa doesn't have much longer to decide." He rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Rachel, what the hell do you think? It's an old house."

"And the pipes are leaking?" she said skeptically.

"Maybe I spilled something while I was asleep. Maybe Tobias isn't house trained."

"And maybe it's something you don't want me knowing about," she challenged.

"Well, then maybe you should stop asking," he retorted coolly. He stood, shoving his plate aside. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Just to make you happy, I'll even turn the heat on before I do. Goodnight, Rachel."

He brushed past Tobias on the stairs, who gave Rachel a questioning glance as he joined her.

"I don't know," she said irritably. "I asked him why his room was cold and he got snippy."

"He hasn't been sleeping well," Tobias said quietly. "I can hear him sometimes."

"It's probably because it's so damn cold in there," she snapped.

Tobias sat on the couch beside her, and shook his head. "I doubt that's it."

"It's been six months," she said. She had some vague idea that the pain of loss was supposed to fade, or at least become forgotten. That was how it was supposed to work, wasn't it? Even if all experience told her otherwise.

"Do you miss him any less now than you did then?" Tobias asked softly. "I know I don't. I can't imagine that Marco does. Or ever will, probably."

She leaned against him, feeling warm and sad and content when he wrapped his arms around her. "So he's just going to go on missing him forever?"

Tobias kissed the top of her head. "Probably, yeah. Maybe he'll find someone else, be happy, get elected president. He may even stop looking for Jake every time he wakes up in the morning. But he'll still miss him. Every day."

All Rachel could do was tighten her hold on him. He rested her head against his chest and they watched the rest of the movie in silence.

She went upstairs, later, to say goodnight and apologize. But the lights in Marco's room were out and only silence came from inside. A draft swirled around her ankles, surprisingly strong, and she wondered if Marco hadn't opened his window just to spite everyone.

"Marco…" she trailed off, not sure where to go. Emotion was not her area. Strength, combat strategy and the ten best ways to kill a Hork-Bajir controller with nothing but a dagger and your own fingernails – that was what she was good at. Comfort? Reassurance? Sympathy? She felt them all, but she had no idea how to send them to someone as deeply hurting, as deeply reticent as Marco had become.

"Get some sleep," she finally said, for lack of anything else. She lay her hand against the door – later she wouldn't be able to say why, except maybe some silly idea that Marco would be able to feel the sympathetic vibes – and flinched from the cold.

She pulled her hand back and started at the wood. It was cold, not just chilled, but actively cold. She rubbed her fingers against her palm, warming them, and frowned fiercely.

Then she kicked the door open and burst into the room.

Cold air swirled around her, chilling her to the bone and raising gooseflesh all over her body. But what really froze her in place was the mournful gaze of her cousin, watching her from where he stood at the foot of Marco's bed.

Her cousin Jake, who'd been dead for six months.

He looked up at her, his gaze leaving Marco's sleeping form, and caught her eyes. She stared at him, shock and fear numbing her lips and stealing her breath.

She took a shaky step forward, reached out to him.

The spell broke, and Jake's form vanished, the cold abruptly faded to a tolerable level, and Rachel fell to her knees in a puddle of ice cold water.

chaoscentral @ 2004-10-21T02:36:00

2004-10-21T06:43:47Z

Just a short update to The Jackal's Roommate

Tentatively titled: The Jackal's Roommate
Set in the Jackal AU
wip
Previous sections here

The car idling at the end of the yard was dark blue, patched with rust, and running rough enough that at first Yuusuke had mistaken it for some sort of chainsaw. He dropped his bag to the grass and stared at the plume of dark grey smoke pouring from the tail exhaust.

Behind him, Kuwabara grunted. "If we drive that, we'll all be arrested for disturbing the peace."

"Or polluting," Yuusuke agreed. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, fighting a surge in the roiling nausea that had defined his life since he woke an hour earlier. "Koenma's got a small fortune at his disposal and he's sending us out in this heap?"

"Small fortune?" Kuwabara muttered skeptically.

"A handy bit of advice," Kurama snapped as he brushed past them toward the car, "would be to stop complaining and get in the car before he changes his mind." The Fox dropped a box full of groceries into the trunk and slammed the top shut. "We are not exactly Koenma's favorite people right now," the Fox warned them in a low voice. "He probably would have eliminated another team by now."

"aww," Yuusuke said darkly. "He likes us."

"Don't kid yourself." Kuwabara shouldered past him toward the car. "If our success rate was less than what it is, he'd have all four of us killed by now. We stay alive as long as he can use us."

"Huh." Yuusuke had a feeling that was a little more accurate than he liked to think about. "Well then, Mr. "I've only been around for a couple months" you'd better hope it's a package deal." He almost felt bad as soon as he said it, but not enough to take it back.

The Jackal flashed him a grin. "Trust me, Phoenix. I haven't been thinking about anything else."

"Didn't Fox tell the two of you to shut up?" Dragon stepped out of the house, carrying only a small knapsack full of clothes.

Yuusuke sneered a little, upper lip curled back. "When exactly did everyone forget I was the team leader? If anyone gets to tell anyone to shut up, it's me."

"So sorry, my captain," Kurama said smoothly, reappearing in the doorway behind Hiei. "It must have slipped my mind when you passed out on Botan."

Kuwabara broke up what would surely have been a mortifying moment by slamming the car door. "All right," he said, aiming an indecipherable look at Yuusuke. "I call shotgun."

"Fine," Yuusuke smirked. "I call driver's seat."

"You do not," Kurama said shortly, holding the keys up for inspection. "I'm driving. And if you don't get in the car I will leave you here for Koenma to deal with." His eyes narrowed into a chilly glare. "Don't make any more stupid decisions, Phoenix."

That struck a chord, however much he hated to admit it. If he'd just sat tight, followed Kurama's mission plan – and that was why they kept Kurama around, wasn't it? He was the strategist, he knew how to plan hits instead of just running in and shooting everything in sight – maybe nothing would have happened. But they'd have lost the target, and Koenma didn't like teams who failed their missions. Better to have broken from the plan and gotten the hit, then to have lost completely. Or so he'd thought anyway.

Not my fault that idiot Jackal came after me.

Well, no. How the hell was he supposed to know the other boy would have bothered? Hiei wouldn't have, Kurama probably wouldn't. And he'd been their teammate for more than a year. Kuwabara'd been around for two months tops, only part of their team for half that. Why would he have risked his neck for any of them?

Why would he risk getting caught?

"Whatever," Yuusuke snarled, banishing his line of thought and Kurama's glare with an impatient wave of his hand. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

"Where are we going, anyway?" Kuwabara asked.

Hiei ignored all of them and climbed into the car – the backseat at a dark look from Kurama. Yuusuke noticed and smiled grimly. No one wanted to get on the Fox's bad side when he was in a foul temper. Not even suicidal psychopaths.

"Koenma has generously provided us with a place to stay while your systems stabilize." The void of space had more warmth in it than Kurama's voice as he slid behind the wheel. Kuwabara followed his example, climbing into the passenger's side.

Yuusuke heaved a sigh and cast a last, quick glance behind him at the house he'd lived in for more than a year. He couldn't quite shake the lingering suspicion that he wouldn't be returning here any time soon. Koenma had little patience for failures, and little hesitance when it came to punishing those he thought failed him. There was a reason most of his agents were willing to die out in the field. It was the same reason that had sent Yuusuke after the target the day before, risking capture rather than returning to Koenma empty-handed.

Well, if he's shipping us off to our deaths, there's not a lot we can do about it. He buried his hands in his pockets and turned to go.

A flash of red caught his eye.

"Hinageshi."

Botan's subordinate peered out at him from beneath the bushes, red hair falling over her eyes. She crouched low to the ground, balanced on her fingers and toes, knees bent, back arched. She regarded him with animal wariness as he approached, ignoring the sharp impatience radiating from his three teammates. "What are you doing here, neko?" he asked, crouching a few feet away. He held out a hand for her to examine. She sniffed at it carefully, then slowly picked her way out of the bushes and rubbed her cheek against his knee.

He stroked her hair, listening to her purr. "What's up, neko?" he asked softly. "Do you have a message for us?" Hinageshi was Botan's messenger, she often sent the red-haired girl to deliver messages or doses of the Drug when she was busy herself with more important things.

Hinageshi turned her face into Yuusuke's palm and spat something into his hand.

He tightened his fingers around it convulsively, not looking at it, trying to pretend he hadn't even noticed. "Got a hairball, huh, kitty?" He wiped his hand on his jeans, surreptitiously sliding whatever it was – small, felt like a plastic marble maybe – into his pocket. "That's really gross. Tell Botan you need a good grooming."

Hinageshi purred, licked at his hand, and crept back into the bushes.

+Yuusuke.+

He put Hinageshi from his mind and jogged over to the car before Kurama made good on his threat to leave without him.

****

And a bit of dialogue from one of the later scenes:

"What about Kuwabara?"

Yuusuke stared at Kurama wordlessly, only just then seeming to realize that Kuwabara had vanished.

Not for the first time it occurred to him that there might be worse ways to go than withdrawl, and concepts more terrifying that Koenma's anger.

"We go after him," Yuusuke said, in a voice that was studied casualness, despite the conflict churning his guts to acid. "He's ours. Koenma can kill us all he wants, but I'm not abandoning him."

chaoscentral @ 2004-10-21T02:27:00

2004-10-21T06:33:36Z

Yes, I write ninja turtles. *Crosses arms* And it's damned angsty, too.

This is just a scene from a fic I'm tentatively called Turnstone. Set during the Archie comicverse and the new tv series continuuity. Basically, I like torturing my favorite character.

Waking was pain, ice-formed fingers that clawed and skittered their way through the back of his mind, dancing over nerves and through tissue, leaving bitter trails of consciousness in their wake.

He could not remember the last time he woke of his own will.

This time nearly didn't count; the pain was intense, nearly unbearable, and blue shadowfires danced on the insides of his eyelids, hallucinations caused by pain, by sleep – possibly brain damage if his last memory was a good indication. He was not the least bothered by the thought.

The cold speared down the back of his neck, through his spine, pain burning in its aftermath and tearing a whimper from somewhere inside him. Not until the fire reached his chest, filling his lungs, did he realize he wasn't breathing.

Movement outside, beyond the border of his closed eyes, and a living presence suddenly beside him, taking him by surprise when he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been aware of everything around him. A hand pressed against his chest, right at the center of the fire that raged inside his skin, and for an instant he had a glimpse of red and silver. Then he found himself gasping desperately for breath, even as he pulled away from the touch, his body uncooperative and jerky as he scrabbled backwards. He only moved a few inches before his shall hit against a wall; and he couldn't have gone further anyway, his body couldn't take anything more strenuous than sucking in desperate breaths.

The hand was back, but not touching him this time, hovering an inch or two above him, hesitant to touch, and he took some solace in that. He already knew they didn't mean him any harm, but there was comfort in knowing that they knew it, too.

redredredredred

Full consciousness was just a breath away.

Already too late. He was waking.

He shuddered, the shadowfires inside his eyes bursting into blinding light. Somehow he was able to find the strength to raise on hand and catch at the hand hovering just an inch away from him.

Even as his fingers brushed against the other hand he knew who it was.

Raph.

Not Raph, of course, but a Raph, the native Raphael of whatever reality they'd tumbled into this time. The taste, the smell, the feel were all so close to what he remembered and the temptation to let himself ebb away with the broken comfort of this not-brother was overwhelming.

No. He's waking. You're already gone.

He gripped Raphael's hand as tightly as he could with muscles disobedient from misuse and forced his eyes open. Already he could feel the band searing into his arm and knew he didn't have much time left.

"You have to run," he insisted, staring into wide brown eyes. Then the blue haze of the Turnstone filled his mind, and he didn't see anything anymore.

chaoscentral @ 2004-10-01T11:17:00

2004-10-01T15:23:26Z

No real offense intended. Inspired by a fanfic sent to me by Sonnet, and too many late night discussions. Wrote the whole things in an hour and a half while watching Ninja Turtles reruns on TV, so if there are glaring spelling or grammar errors, I apologize in advance.

Plot Holes
aka: It's always the human characters get all the crap

The Fanfic Writer bounced into existence in a shower of sparkles and glitter. "Guess what?" she exclaimed to her somewhat laconic audience of three not-entirely human and entirely bored teenagers. "I'm writing a fic about you guys!"

"Woot." Yuusuke spun a finger around in a lazy circle for a moment before giving up all pretext of enthusiasm.

"But I don't like Kuwabara. He's a dork. So we're going to pretend for the sake of the story that he never existed in the show!" She clapped her hands and beamed, looking terribly pleased with herself.

There was a brief pause. Kurama and Yuusuke exchanged a skeptical glance. Hiei looked intrigued.

"Out of curiosity," Yuusuke ventured. "If there's no Kuwabara, who did I possess in order to deliver my message to Keiko? I mean, the whole point is that there was no one else I could use. Did she not get my message? Am I dead?" A pained expression crossed his face. "Cause that's getting old, even in this fandom."

"And who revived Yuusuke after his battle with Suzaku?" Kurama inquired, green eyes pinning the Fanfic Writer with a sharp gaze. "He almost died in the Makai, and the only person with reiki in a hundred thousand miles was me. And, no offense, Yuusuke, but we didn't know each other very well at the time."

"And who did Toguro target during the Dark Tournament in order to push me over the edge?" Yuusuke challenged. "Hiei? Come on. Koenma? Don't make me laugh."

"Who deflected Yakumo's attack, possibly saving Yuusuke's life when Hiei and I were both on the sidelines?" Kurama demanded.

Yuusuke crossed his arms. "And how about pretty much the entire Sensui Arc – minus the stuff about me, of course. What do you think, that Sensui was gonna use my reigun to open the barrier? The rose whip? The Black Dragon?"

"Nice try," Kurama smirked. "But that's sloppy. You'll have to rewrite the series from the very beginning just to explain those loopholes – not to mention a half dozen others."

The Fanfic Writer looked overwhelmed. "But-but- it's just a short fic!"

"Not anymore," Yuusuke said unsympathetically. "Better get ing."

The Fanfic Writer paused. "Okay, how about this, instead? Kuwabara exists, but he's just not there."

"What do you mean, 'not there'?" Yuusuke quizzed.

"Dead?" Hiei asked hopefully. Kurama gave him an exasperated look. Yuusuke snickered.

"He's just not there," the Fanfic Writer said irritably. "It's not important why not. It starts with Koenma calling you three in for a mission-"

"Wait a minute," Yuusuke interrupted. "Why wouldn't Koenma include Kuwabara in the mission?"

"He doesn't always," Fanfic Writer defended herself.

"Yes he does," Yuusuke said indignantly. "Never minding for a moment that Koenma's only actually sent us on, like, two or three mission, Kuwabara's been included in all of them." He started counting off on his fingers. "There was the whole rescuing Yukina thing. The Sensui thing."

"Suzaku's bugs," Kurama added, to be helpful.

"Koenma didn't send him on that one!" Fanfic Writer declared triumphantly.

"No," Koenma agreed, appearing out of thin air, his toddler form floating at about eye-level. "But he wasn't a Reikai Tantei yet, either. And he went anyway, so I'm not sure that really supports your argument." He blinked and looked around. "Where am I and what are we talking about?"

"Fanfic Writer there is trying to explain to us why you didn't send Kuwabara on a mission with the rest of us," Kurama explained. "Her premise is a little shaky."

Koenma looked annoyed. "Why wouldn't I send him on a mission? He's a tantei, isn't he? He'll damn well go on any mission I decide and like it."

"See?" Yuusuke taunted.

"You're going to have to explain his absence," Kurama said patiently.

"All right," Fanfic Writer said irritably. "He was killed by hit and run driver in a moment of shocking irony."

A long pause.

"This is the same guy who had a demon shove a hand through his chest and lived to talk about it, right?" Yuusuke said finally.

"At this point in our training, we're rather difficult to kill," Kurama pointed out. "I don't think a regular car would be enough."

"Maybe it exploded?" Yuusuke offered.

"If a netherworld energy blast didn't kill him an exploding gas tank won't," Hiei interjected irritably. "This is all ridiculous."

"Hiei got tired of him fawning over Yukina and killed him!" Fanfic Writer announced in a fit of melodrama. "There!" She wilted noticeably as she found herself on the receiving end of several dark looks.

"I'm pretty sure I would have to consider that a violation of your parole, Hiei," Koenma said thoughtfully. "You'd be in hell, so you couldn't be in the fanfic."

"I don't know what you've been smoking," Yuusuke said darkly, "but if you think for a second that Hiei wouldn't be dead-"

"If I was going to kill the idiot for that I'd have done it a long time ago," Hiei snapped.

"He wouldn't do it anyway," Kurama said with supreme confidence. "Hiei knows the benefits of loyalty. Besides, Yukina would never forgive him."

"Oh, for-" Fanfic Writer stomped her foot. "He was killed by demons the day before the fic started!"

Yuusuke bared his teeth in a lazy, violent smile.

"I don't think Yuusuke would be going on missions, in that case," Kurama said dryly. "None of us would. Unless the mission was to find the aforementioned demons and-"

"Tear their still-beating hearts out and feed them to Hiei?" Yuusuke suggested silkily.

"Along those lines, yes."

"He disappeared," Fanfic Writer said desperately. "And no one's noticed yet."

"Was it a demonic or spiritual disappearance?" Kurama quizzed. "Where otherworldly powers involved? Is it tied in to the plot?"

"No?" Fanfic Writer said weakly.

"Then I think we’d notice."

"All right!" Fanfic Writer threw her arms up in a fit of surrender. "I give up! He's in the fic!" There was a POOF! of smoke and a flash of lightning and when it faded, Kuwabara stood before them.

Well, it looked a little like Kuwabara anyway. Yuusuke laughed behind his hand. Kurama raised an eyebrow. Hiei drew his katana with a flick of his wrist.

"I AM THE MIGHTY KUWABARA KAZUMA!" The almost-Kuwabara thundered in a whiny, nasal voice. "I AM A MAN! I SHALL KILL HIEI TO SHOW MY LOVE FOR MY WONDERFUL YUKI-CHAN!"

"Please," Hiei sniffed.

"Yuki-chan?" Yuusuke mimicked.

The almost-Kuwabara bellowed, a sound that would have put a charging rhino to shame, and charged Hiei. "REI KEN!" A flash of spiritual energy formed in his hand and solidified into a vaguely sword-like shape, about as bright and intimidating as a glow-stick, as he swung mightily at Hiei.

The fire demon took one step to the left, effectively dodging the clumsy attack. Kuwabara tripped over his own two feet and landed flat on his face, knocking himself unconscious.

"Okay, seriously?" Kurama said. "This isn't going to fool anyone."

"What?" Fanfic Writer looked confused. "That's him!"

"Right." Yuusuke prodded the unmoving figure with the toe of his sneaker. "Lady, not even Kuwabara's that ugly. Rear end of a horse? Maybe. But this? Come on. Have you ever actually looked at him?"

"His reiki is stronger than that," Hiei added grudgingly.

"For a human, he's very powerful," Kurama agreed. "Genkai herself has said as much on more than one occasion. That pseudo-rei ken wasn't strong enough to hurt a D-class demon. And contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t often trip over his own two feet. He is a trained martial artist, don't forget. One who has been successfully fighting demons for several years at this point. I believe that would indicate some ability on his part. Besides which," he added, "Hiei spent a month teaching Kuwabara to fight, as you may recall. Which, aside from casting further light on the depth of Kuwabara's fighting skill, also means that Hiei would probably have to do more than simply step to the side if he wanted to avoid a full out attack."

"Yeah, and the 'I AM A MAN!' thing? He really only does that once or twice – when he's still in junior high." Yuusuke shrugged. "And it was actually a pretty good speech when he said it during the Toguro fight."

"A mulberry's a tree and Kuwabara's a man?" Kurama said skeptically.

"That was the dub," Koenma disagreed, "It was more along the lines of 'Just as the cherry blossom is a flower amongst flowers, Kuwabara is a man amongst men.' Or words to that effect."

"And you memorized this?"

"It was a dramatic moment, all right?"

"All right, so let's narrow this down." Yuusuke began counting off on his fingers. "You can't pretend he never existed, because he's, you know, a main character and semi-vital to the plot. You can't just ignore him because there's no compelling reason why all three of us would suddenly forget he existed – much as Hiei might like to try-"

The fire demon grunted in the affirmative.

"-and you're not willing to make his disappearance part of the plot, because, you know, then you'd be writing a fic about Kuwabara and we can't have that. You can't kill him off without making it a plot point – and frankly, I'd like to see you try. You can't write him into the fic because you apparently have not seen the show and only draw your impressions of him from other, badly written, fics." He paused. "Am I missing anything?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Kurama agreed.

"All right then." Yuusuke crossed his arms over his chest. "You are officially not allowed to write our fanfic."

"WHAT?!" Fanfic Writer sputtered incoherently and stared at him.

"You heard me. Come back when you've actually seen the show."

"But! But!"

"Or when you've at least put a little thought into things," Kurama said gently. "It's no sin not to write a character well, or to dislike a character. But if you're going to write fanfic, you need to be able to justify and support your portrayal of the characters. And there's no possible way to support us just randomly forgetting about-"

"Or ," Yuusuke interjected coldly.

"-or one of our own," Kurama finished. "Just because you don't like him doesn't mean we don't. He is Yuusuke's best friend, after all. I myself consider him to be a very dear friend. Even Hiei, I believe, has grown somewhat…" he paused. "Used to him."

"I wouldn't go that far," Hiei muttered.

"Have you ever considered another fandom?" Kurama suggested. "Fushigi Yugi, perhaps? Or Fruits Basket? Something heavy on the bishonen?"

"You're bishonen," Fanfic Writer sulked.

Yuusuke sputtered. "You take that back!"

Kurama and Koenma each latched onto one of Yuusuke's arms before he could form the rei gun.

"I have to admit that 'pretty boy' isn't what first comes to mind when I think of Yuusuke." Kurama sounded like he was having a very hard time not laughing. "It's not really a term that most, ah… delinquents would find complementary. Implied attractiveness aside."

"I'm outta here," Yuusuke growled. "I'm supposed to meet Keiko and Kuwabara after school anyway. You guys can deal with her." He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Koenma cast one last glance at the almost-Kuwabara. "As fascinating as this has been, I need to go back and prepare for next week's suici- I mean, mission." He touched a two-fingered salute to the side of his hat and disappeared before anyone could object.

Kurama and Hiei exchanged a glance and shrugged before they two disappeared.

Fanfic Writer stomped her foot and stared down at almost-Kuwabara. "How am I supposed to write a fic with just you?" she wailed.

Koenma's voice drifted through the pocket dimension. "I'd seriously rethink writing any fic in our fandom for a while," he warned in a dark tone. "They've all got internet access and they know your URL. It's the equivalent of knowing where you live." His voice faded away into silence.

Fanfic Writer forced a cheery smile. "Maybe they had something with the Fruits Basket idea."

A dimension away, Kyo and Yuki exchanged a horrified look.

End