No, Not Me, Not I

By: Kowareta

Youko-centric--a demon's view on life.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho.

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Verdant grasses shifted listlessly in the indolent breeze. Cattails hummed and twitched as frogs warmed themselves on the banks of the small reflective pond. One great laurel tree armored in a thick hide of antediluvian bark, vaulted from the depths of the murky waters. The surface of the water-- broken and disturbed when fish leapt for their insect prey-- was otherwise lifeless.

Two capricious and golden eyes surveyed this life as time trekked peacefully onward. One slender arm curved around the stomach, as the other bent and supported the head. The figure, still as an ancient Chinese terra-cotta sculpture and just as solemn, was glazed in radiant light streaming forth from the marsh-forest's canopy.

Then, stooping over the rocky embankment ever so slowly with painful patience, the figure detected movement in the waters below. Previously drowsed in unaware boredom, the sunlit form became rigidly alert. Like simple dreamer rousing from complex stupor.

Unwinding slowly a limber arm from its current position, the figure leaned over and placed it bluntly, firmly, on the ground below. The other hand, raised and with deadly intent, poised itself predatorily cold above the open water.

Swiftly, with practiced skill and dexterity, the hand struck down into the pond. A wild display of shattered water and flailing fins disrupted the peace of the marsh. Water fell in sheets over the figure's majestic hair. The fox-like ears atop the head twitched in obvious irritation.

A brightly pigmented fish, a foot long in length, lay at the bare feet of its captor. A smirk curved upon the demon's lips. An imprint of malicious cunning lingering on the deceptive face.

He was The Youko Kurama.

More than just a trickster, a thief, an outlaw. He was a class of his own.

Depositing the fish into a wooden bucket, already filled with a collective amount of fish and frog, the demon slipped on his shoes and headed off deeper into the marsh. The travel was swift and his hair, dirty from both water and hard traveling in harsh conditions, spilled wildly in all directions.

Many times he double-backed and retraced his steps. A necessary precaution. One didn't live long in the Makai if one was stupid enough to reveal one's location. Especially not if one was being pursued by those of spirit world and a collection of bounty hunters.

Trotting quickly and careful not to let the bucket spill, he flew past the most treacherous parts of the marsh. He deftly navigated between all the hidden pit falls, quicksand, and abysmal puddles. His gait slowed gradually as he scented the tang of burning wood. There would be no smoke of course, this he knew.

Unlike most of those skilled in stealth, he kept to the light. His appearance could not warrant stealth in the shadows. He was spotted too easily. So he adapted. Find him not in the darkness but submerged in the light.

Shirking from light to light, the beams filtered through the trees, he quietly approached a clearing where the bright glare of a small fire could be seen. Another figure hunched over the fire and was feeding it fuel. The fox demon smirked and walked into the clearing, wary of the open space above them. Hopefully, the fox mused slightly anxious, they would be gone before the afternoon.

"Kuronoue." Spoke the demon softly. Loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to remain clandestine. His partner glanced up at him, then shifted his gaze to the bucket in the Youko's hands.

"You've come back." the darkness clad being stated simply. He began to attend the unusual plant hanging over the fire. It was a special plant that when permeated by smoke, would somehow condense the gas to make the glucose it needed. The plant allowed fires to be built while making sure the smoke would not give away one's position.

The Youko's tail twitched in amusement. Placing the bucket near the fire, he tied his ragged hair into a ponytail with a cord of hemp plant. In a swift movement, a small knife appeared in his steady hand. Flicking the knife swiftly he switched his grip in such a way, that it could be compared to the casual toppling of sand dunes.

Squatting, he began to slice into a fish, pulling out the undesirable parts in an efficient manner, and prepared them to be cooked. The fish and frogs were placed on sharpened stick and roasted over the fire. Soon the aroma of tantalizing meat (or tantalizing to those who have not feasted in quite a few days) wafted within the clearing.

Two ravenous demons started on the food disregarding proper dining etiquette. They had been traveling for months through arid regions, soggy quagmires, and other disreputable places. They avoided crowded populations, seeing as how bounty hunters were now a dime a dozen in such locales. With no surplus of people to steal from the prosperity of the two thieves had dwindled.

Kuronoue spat a fish bone into the fire.

"I've been thinking." he said slowly with the look of someone who had been mulling over a thought for quite some time. Youko Kurama raised a slender eyebrow and lowered a half eaten frog from his mouth.

"Yeah?" the demon inquired, fixing a startled stare on his partner, "about what?"

Kuronoue considered a moment, fiddling with the pendant that he always carried, and looked the fox demon over. It would be obvious to anyone that they were nothing but a pair of dirty ragamuffins. In the old days strangers had a hard time telling whether or not Youko belonged to nobility or the upper-class.

His once majestic hair, still pulled back in a pony tail by the hemp cord, was matted and polluted. His clothes were soiled, torn, and held the look of having been washed too much that any cleansing afterward would ruin the tattered cloth more. The demon himself looked thin and fatigued. The only thing that stood out as unsullied, crisp, and clear was his golden eyes, radiating with such an intense pride and determination.

The fox had been irritated and moody as of late. He had become unpredictable; one minute amused the next angry and spiteful. Kuronoue admitted that the fox had very good reason to feel this way. One had to hold onto what made oneself happy while one could, but the loss of that happiness would make oneself very angry indeed.

"Do you think it's worth it?" Kuronoue drawled in his most uninterested voice. Demon partners were not known for sharing opinions or thoughts. Often many demon partners, even some of the same gender, existed only to assist each other in fending off others, gaining the basic needs for survival, and sleeping with each other. Kuronoue and Youko's partnership while not intimate, did border on friendship.

"To live like this?" he continued.

A puzzled look overcame the Youko who stared at Kuronoue with unadulterated curiosity. Then shaking his head he stood up, throwing the half-eaten frog to his partner, and inspected a strand of hair.

"I don't care." the Youko told him standoffishly, "I'm going to bathe."

Kuronoue watched as his tail flicked back and forth as he took some jars from their traveling packs and a small bucket. He didn't reflect too much on the fox's behavior. It was likely he'd never be answered.

After checking to make sure no predators or bounty hunters were about, Youko Kurama striped off his clothes waded into a cold river. It was probably the river that flowed into the marsh the fox mused vaguely. Pulling the stopper out of one of the jars he poured the oil into his hands and scrubbed it vigorously into his hair. The demon world did not have a lot of the pleasantries that the human world presented. Especially not in the middle of nowhere.

Submerging the bucket into the water the vessel slowly filled. Heaving it above his head he dumped it onto his hair, washing out the cleaning oil.

Is it worth it to live life like this?

We walk path after path, reflected the Youko as he scrubbed yet more oil into his hair, worn roads sinking into dust. Still we are lost even as we wander. Lost within the maze of life where no possible solution lies.

And yet was it possible that this life mattered? Was it possible that life was truly worth it? This life? This life? The life of a thief constantly on the run. The life of bloodshed, the life of murder, the life of thievery, the life of running? Youko shrugged. He didn't care. He had chosen this path so long ago that it was rather pointless considering how life would be different.

The winds will ravish the cliffs and the rivers will wear the stones; the roots will break the dirt asunder and the rain will wash the blood. He chose to keep going because he would not bow to weakness and he refused to be withered by time.

But was that worth it?

As he scrubbed the dirt and muck from his body he smiled. No, this was the life he chose to live. On the run, in the dirt, and stealing trinkets. It wasn't a productive life, but he never wanted a life of routine. Life, true life, is tough.

In perhaps a moment of contemplation he took a rose seed firmly stuck in his still matted hair. Manipulating his energy the seed transformed into a rose. The rose of love will oft be scarlet but sometimes is painted black.

No, he cannot change who he is, and what would he be if he tried? It's pointless to amend the crimes and pointless to change the past. What's happened has happened and cannot be changed.

I am a tainted rose, he decided, the truth can never be truly seen until people look inside. Wrongs will continue to be done by my hand, not because I cannot stop, but because that's who I am. I cannot change, it's been too long. No, not me, not I.

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