Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho-- It belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi, or at least I think it does. It's 5:35 AM after a sleepless night, and this would-be author's brain has melted in the heat.

Author's Note: This is a sequel to Lulu White's "Silent and Still." "Silent and Still" is a rapefic, focusing on Kurama being raped by Toguro (the younger) and Karasu. They do it under orders of Sakyo, because apparently the Toguro team leader has evidence that Yusuke lusts after Kurama, and he believes that Yusuke seeing Kurama's battered, broken body after he survives Genkai's final test will dampen his spirit and give the Toguro team the advantage. The story is linked in my profile but please read the warnings. It is a strong NC-17. Besides that, it is a tremendously powerful story that can possibly reap immense psychological impact on the reader.

About the story: During "Silent and Still", I was struck by the interaction between the characters. You really need to read the story, but the gist of it can be understood without. Toguro does not approve of the rape, but he takes Kurama and does not let Karasu do as he pleases. In the end, Toguro aborts the plan and takes Kurama to his hotel room after wrapping him in his coat. Kurama was utterly traumatized at the end, so the events in his mind that occurred at the very end of "Silent and Still" are a blur in his mind, though he does come to the conclusion that Toguro did bring him back. This prevents anyone from knowing about the rape except Kurama, Toguro, Sakyo, and Karasu.

This story will center on Kurama, but I might shift to another person's point of view. I'm itching to do Toguro's POV, because I believe he was also profoundly affected. I plan to show how Kurama eventually comes to terms with his feelings, because that is always the hardest part, isn't it? I apologize if he does not act like the typical rape victim, and I know this is a sensitive topic, but he is an immensely strong character, and he is trying to hide the rape from everyone. He is struggling to act normal.

This chapter of the story is a bit confusing because I tried to portray Kurama's confused mindset. It mostly follows his thoughts, but I can't write in first-person without it sounding very stupid, so this is my best attempt at getting into Kurama's mind. If you have any questions, ask, and I will probably answer. I apologize for the marathon author's note, but it needed to be said.

Overcoming Chaos: Chapter One

By Pareidolic Ink

Sequel to "Silent and Still" by Lulu White

Posted July 3, 2003

Inky nightmares hovered in the dark room poised on the threshold of dawn, enclosing the delicate, shattered figure of the boy in the horror of reliving the events that had reduced him to such a state scant hours ago.

A shaft of bright light pierced the somber drapes, spreading to illuminate a lone corner of the room.

There was only silence.

The tears had ended hours ago. The vividness of the images refused to retreat in the face of the inner strength that had always aided him in battle, and there was nothing he could do.

Absolutely nothing.

His strength had abandoned him.

A sudden slamming of a door in the hallowed corridor shattered the depressed sobriety that had fallen over the room. The never-ending cycle of images was interrupted as Kurama's stomach lurched. What if someone came to look for him? It would hardly take a genius to realize, or at least suspect, what had happened. And if Yusuke found out?

He would never forgive himself.

Yusuke, despite the apparent independence, thrived within a group. And the Urameshi team, despite the initial hostility, had developed a tangible closeness. He fought not for himself, but for others. His love for Keiko had fueled him before, and now the impending threat on all those held dear to him was enough to give him a reason to fight.

"Urameshi cares for you."

It shocked Kurama.

Yusuke was in love with Keiko, and that was that. There was no room for nonconformist thought on that issue. The end. C'est la fin. Case closed.

Where had the possibility even come from? Could Yusuke harbor secret feelings for his redheaded companion? The implications of the statement were beyond comprehensible for Kurama's pained, skittish mind, and he banished the thought even as it grew sharp claws and dug into the malleable mental tissue, refusing to leave him completely.

It would not be easily dismissed.

Loud voices in the hallway startled him, the panic once again seizing him. The constant, bare weariness borne of pain and shame granted him a temporary reprieve as he fought to sit up.

He noted the offending shaft of light.

And the anguish clamped down on his body, a gasp tearing from his raw throat as his pale form trembled, trying to accommodate the soreness. He wouldn't be able to sit properly...

And that was the least of his worries.

Yusuke could not discover this under any circumstances.

If he found out, they won.

And even if they managed to break him, they would not break Yusuke.

Kurama wrapped his arms around his waist, biting his lip as he lowered his head to his chest in a preferred thinking position. Yusuke...

And he began shuddering. Tremors vibrated through tense muscles, failing to cease as Kurama stared in horror at himself.

Toguro's coat.

He numbly searched his memory for any recollection of how he came to be in the coat, but it failed him, leaving him to helplessly stare at the seemingly innocent garment. What did this mean?

Had Toguro carried him back here? But why would he even do something like that? Little was known about the man, yet humans and demons alike feared him for his sheer power.

He was intimidating.

Kurama had succumbed against his will. His pride, his dignity, his strength had been torn from him.

By Toguro... and Karasu.

Long pale fingers threaded through the crimson strands, tightening to a vicious yank. Kurama's head was jerked up, teary eyes glazed with pleasure and humiliation meeting the smug violet even as throaty gasps were torn from him by the sharp angle of Toguro's thrusts.

Karasu smirked down at the redhead, cackling, mocking laughter stripping down any sanctity that remained within his mind and forcing him to respond to the brutality of the madman's sharp, rapid movements.

His consciousness was dangled over the chasm of insanity.

He would have fallen, had it not been for Toguro.

The thought lingered in his mind, a new wave of shame flooding through his nervous system. To find comfort in him... His hand came up to shield his eyes, the dry heat of tears needing to be shed itching in the back of already-swollen eyes. But there was only burning, his hands coming away dry.

He had no tears left to shed, and he desired the mental abandon found within an act borne of desperation.

There would be no solace for him.

The shame remained.

And he was soiled. His face and thighs were sticky, and the urgent need to physically cleanse himself asserted itself with all the strength of a conflagration, tempering the torrent of other emotions that warred for dominance within him.

His hands fisted in the sheets, muscles in his arms tightening as he pushed himself to his feet. Both hands immediately shifted to grip the bedside table as he wavered unsteadily, useless legs threatening to crumple beneath him.

His body ached as he took first steps, trembling like a young child learning to walk. The pale blue walls aiding his path to the small, attached bathroom were smooth with a subtle hint of texture under the pads of his trailing fingers, the texture changing abruptly as they hit the rough wood of the doorframe. The dark carpet under his bare feet gave way to slick cream tiles.

Shadowed emerald eyes stared back at him, the soft skin around the eyelids swollen by tears. His hair was tangled and matted, the luster and vibrancy notably absent.

Eyes still blank, he lightly touched the smear by his mouth.

He turned away, features twisting into a grimace. Completely disgusting. He was disgusting.

Keeping his face carefully averted from the cruel silver surface of the mirror, he stepped out of Toguro's coat. It had been haphazardly wrapped around the boy, tan folds now hanging loosely around the slender torso after the prior exertions. Hanging it behind the bathroom door, he stepped into the shower.

The warm water ran swiftly across his skin, sending tingles to his woefully worn nerves. It was a pleasant sensation.

It would take more than this to feel clean.

For now, his mind was blissfully blank, distracted by the well-known movements of washing his hair and scrubbing his body.

Slim, slightly calloused fingers slid through the scarlet mass, working the shampoo through the twisted gnarls to massage the scalp.

It was a vaguely sensual gesture.

Enormous hands ruffled the blood-red locks before flipping the boy onto his back...

Trailing strands swept across Kurama's back as they were moved aside to allow the man access to kiss the boy's ear...

Light wisps were blown aside by Toguro's heavy breath as Kurama's name was moaned against his neck...

His hands jerked back from his head, a whimper on his lips. These feelings were so wrong...

The images stirred his body, tossing aside the intense loathing that he had believed he should feel. He should hate them with every thought and action. He should desire revenge.

His subconscious did not agree.

Kurama tiredly closed his eyes, allowing the ferocious sensations to augment without resistance. How could he respond like this to Toguro?

"I won't let him take you, boy. Not the way he wants to. That's the best I can do for you."

The man had prevented Karasu from having his sadistic way with him.

Kurama suppressed a shudder. It could have been so much worse, had the crow been allowed to do as he desired

Toguro had protected him. It was an amazingly uncharacteristic gesture for the unscrupulous man, one that no one would believe possible. It made one doubt the veracity and import of common sense. But then again, what value was such a thing when buried in the submission of violation?

Common sense would not say that Toguro would minimize the pain of an act that was necessary to him to accomplish, would it? It was only a job to him, a mission that had to be carried out to the orders of Sakyo in order for him to accomplish his goal.

Yet he had.

His body rocked in unconscious time to Toguro's hand. His breath came in ragged pants and deep sighs. He was suspended in a heaven/hell composed of unwilling pleasure and evil mocking laughter.

The man had done his best to arouse him. And unfortunately, he had succeeded.

His hands returned to their task, the foam thickly covering his hair before it was beaten away by the cleansing water. The bath sponge was absently seized by the distracted boy.

Toguro did not conform to the typical image of a brutish predator.

It was only natural that Kurama's victimized emotions refused to behave typically.

They defied the bounds of logic, and refused to disappear, or even change. They flitted around the edges of rationality, teasing and taunting him with their very existence.

But they could be accepted, if only for the lack of horror and disgust in their possession.

The act was done, but the gleeful dominance was conspicuously absent. Toguro had to forcefully take Kurama, but he did not have to lord the pleasure of his motions over the bowed redhead. And that was precisely the origin of difference in his reactions to the two.

Kurama's grip on the sponge tightened in response to the turn of his thoughts.

Horror and disgust belonged to the other.

The taunts, the mockery, the laughter. The insanity. They solely belonged to the demon.

Karasu only inspired hatred within him. A swift death would be too good for that creature. He deserved agony.

Kurama flinched, his alertness reverting to the shower at the sudden prickles of pain. His skin was raw, reddened by his efforts to scrub off all remnants of the madman.

How fitting.

Attempting to step out of the shower gracefully, Kurama forcefully squashed the instinct to wince at the pain that had thankfully been subdued during this first attempt at cleansing. A tiny glimmer of satisfaction snuck across his features as he glanced at his image in the mirror and picked up the hair brush.

After all, he did have to look immaculate, as always. Someone may notice if even a hair was out of place, and the chance could not be taken. The stakes were too high. For Yusuke...

The deceitful skills of the fox would be displayed for the world to see. If craftiness and slyness were still in his possession, it would indeed be an elite show.

A show so elite that the audience was not even aware of any foolery.

An illusion worthy of a master trickster like the youko.

Bitterness rose at the thought. His youko half had not been able to help him last night. What good would it do now?

But it was his only hope of salvation as well. The youko spirit within him would shield the weak human from the emotions that threatened to overpower him at every moment. His humanity craved comfort and warmth after such an event, but it was only a forlorn hope.

How very ironic. His first true encounter with Yusuke.

A loud knock on the door threw Kurama out of the cloud of reminiscence. The contact he was dreading had to come sometime... Forcing an artificial smile onto his face, he dropped the thick brush on the vanity counter with a satisfying clatter. He padded to the door, occupying his hands with draping the short towel about his slender hips.

Botan's cheerful face greeted him through the peephole. Kurama opened the door to the Grim Reaper, thankful that she did not know him well enough to sense any problems in his facade.

But then again, how many people really knew him that well?

He smiled down at the deity, fighting the sudden surge of loneliness that threatened to wipe the smile off his face. Very few people were close to him, and due to the circumstances, the only ones who did know him to some degree could not be told.

"Kurama!" Pink eyes widened at Kurama's state of undress. Botan blushed before averting her stare.

Kurama watched her with a hint of nervousness. He had been too preoocupied to search for his misplaced robe. What had possessed him to walk to the door without it? What if someone else had been at the door? Not that the robe would have been much help, but still...

Fear clenched his stomach as his mind turned to the sadistic Karasu.

But his fear of the madman was nullified by Botan's next words, as an even greater fear grew.

"Yusuke's back! And he's fine!"

Nodding silently with a smile still set on his face, he closed the door.

Kurama stared across the room to the curtained windows. How would he react to the boy now, that the possibility of something more than a friendship had been awakened?

---

Please Review! Now that I have actually written it, I would like to know what people think. I'm not a writer at heart, but I do love the story "Silent and Still" and I have been obsessing over this sequel for the past 2-1/2 to 3 months. Once again, I plea for reviews!