"See? That wasn't so bad, now."

The voice was the most condescending Kurama had ever heard. Even though every bit of him was in pain, that was what stung the most.

"I might even say you've enjoyed it."

It was the loss of dignity, the feelings of violation; he barely felt the bark of the tree scrape his face as he leaned against it, wondering if he'd be able to stand on his injured leg, the one that had been demon-bombed in order to keep him still. Suddenly, Kurama felt Karasu grab his hair again, pulling his head back from the tree. He let out a grunt of pain, and Karasu laughed.

"Don't do that, Kurama," he said coldly. "I don't want there to be any cuts on your beautiful face when I kill you tomorrow."

Karasu tilted Kurama's head all the way back, a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

"Let—go—of—my—hair," Kurama growled, struggling, but his attacker only laughed again and pulled it harder. Throughout this whole thing, he had refused to beg for mercy even once, but he hadn't been able to hold back howls of pain, near the end, with his face slammed up against a tree outside the hotel, his hair pulled, brutalized by Karasu from behind. And even afterward, he knew there were tears in his eyes; he could feel them. He felt a very unpleasant sort of tingle go throughout his whole body as one of Karasu's clammy fingers wiped them away.

"You're really very beautiful, you know," he said, in his low, very predatory voice. "Even filled with tears, your eyes are so pretty. And your hair…" Karasu stopped pulling Kurama's hair and ran one hand through it instead. "Your crowning glory. It's so sad that something I wanted had to be an opponent, killed in the ring, when I could have kept it for myself."

So that's what I am to him. An 'it,' an object…a toy. Kurama turned his face away so Karasu couldn't see that tears were now leaving his eyes. This wasn't the first time he had been objectified; not taken seriously as an opponent because of how he looked. But this was the worst, and now Karasu had done the unthinkable. Kurama sucked in his breath as Karasu placed his hands underneath his armpits and pulled Kurama to a standing position. Kurama wobbled on his bad leg and leaned on the tree for support.

"Would you like me to escort you back to the hotel room?" mocked Karasu. "I can't imagine you can walk very easily with your injured leg."

"I'm…fine." The pain was worse now that Kurama was standing, but he would not be humiliated any longer.

"Suit yourself. Oh, and Kurama?" Karasu was walking away, but he looked back at Kurama. "Before you get all upset…remember that if you'd just given this to me, I wouldn't have had to take it from you. But then, where's the fun in that?"

With that, Karasu finally left.

Kurama sunk down again, one hand against the tree, letting his bangs fall in his eyes as he tried to distance himself from what was going on, but it was impossible. Why wasn't he able to fight Karasu off? Wasn't there something he could have done? How was he going to face Karasu in the ring tomorrow, when he never wanted to look at him again? He was so good at predicting people's behavior; why hadn't he seen this coming? Or had he, but he had just been in denial? How would he ever be able to be intimate with someone again? And what would his teammates say if they found out?

Finally, a sob escaped Kurama as he remembered Hiei in particular. Recently the two of them had started a relationship, even though they had feelings for each other for a long time. They hadn't tried to hide it; that wasn't the type of thing either of them would keep in the closet. None of their friends cared if they were both guys; love was love to them. Hiei and Kurama were friends, allies, and now a relationship.

But they hadn't actually done anything except cuddle each other in their hotel room and exchange a few kisses; Hiei wasn't really the affectionate type, and Kurama was the type to take it slow. They knew how the other operated. But eventually, they might have done something, and Kurama's human body hadn't had that experience yet. Well, now he had, and it was ruined. He had been tainted.

The pain in his leg was getting worse. Kurama grabbed a sharp stone and used it to cut off the hem of his pants leg, then wrapped it around his wound like a bandage. This would at least stop the bleeding. Then he stumbled to his feet again, determined to make it back to his hotel room, even if he had to limp the whole way there. When he finally got there, he could probably put together some kind of cure for his leg.

Over time, Kurama knew, the wounds on his body would fade; his tears would dry; he would certainly wash his hair and change his clothes. But the hurt and humiliation inside of him? Even if Kurama could defeat Karasu tomorrow, those feelings seemed to be here to stay.