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Disclaimer-that-must-be-present-just-in-case-the-owners-truly-mind-and/or-read-our-little-wanna-be-stories:
We don't own Yu Yu Hakusho, my muse and I. (I can just imagine the messy death
from over-excitement if we did...) Fortunately, though, it is owned by the
marvolously brilliant Togashi Yoshihiro, Shueisha Fuji TV., Studio Pierrot, Jump
Comics, and any other legal companies who claim it. Which isn't me. (Though I do
claim to own a possessed computer, two of Duo Maxwell's hairs, 3 of Kurama's, 7
of Aya Fujimiya's, and two very odd cats. Unless you want them, sueing would be
bad...)
This face... A finger traced along the vertical lake of glass, following red hair, one
green eye, the colors of blood, of the trees he had once run under. Beautiful.
They all said that, and he knew there was more than a hint of truth in it. He'd
always been proud of his looks. These colors... Every time he looked in that mirror... Where had he gone? His old face. 'So
strange, to see a stranger staring back at you through your own eyes...' More
feminine now, he supposed, examining himself again, too many times to count. A
little rounder. A little more color in the cheeks, a little less mysterious. He
regretted that, but the eyes still held some of that old secret, a promise of
something... more. That wasn't him. Not that sweet expression, without malice, without anger and
superiority. Where had that look gone, the gaze that could mean torturous death
or immeasurable pleasure? Now, it was something that gained too much trust just
in that brief second. "…He's so handsome…" Breathless words. He'd heard them
before, over and over. "…Death comes before me now, as an angel of white light…"
One time only, remembered always. That trust, though. It was dangerous. And so
easy to use.
Take control…
No. Not again. He'd left that life in a moment of sure death. And now…
Yes, now… Do you see what you've become?
The feared. Now the beautiful and loved. Still deadly? Yes… But now… He'd
lost his edge. That razor sharp tooth of an emotionless enemy that had made him…
him. Where was that? Fingers trailed down the mirror. Streaks over that face
that he didn't recognize. He was still himself, wasn't he?
Aren't I?
'Yes. Still me. But him, too.' What would this human have become, had he not
intruded upon its life? Strange… That soul he should have pushed out when he
slipped in, unnoticed… Why was it still there? It hadn't given up.
That's me, now…
Two as one. Not one without the other, stirred and meshed, and never to be
separated again.
He is mine…
Don't let him go now… Such an attachment to this young man! His body, but our
soul. 'He has so much love that I never had before…' Shown so easily, given
freely… And now, the man he once was was becoming the same… Would he survive
again, were he to loose his soul and return?
No… I need him…
Was that a love? Then what was it? If they were two, what would it have been
like? Would they have met? He wanted to run his hands over this one's form,
through his hair, down his arms and chest, feel every part of him and memorize
what the other body felt like under his sensitive fingers. He had done that
before, but only his own body. Warm skin and muscles, not the hard marble he had
once been, but no less strong. Long strands of hair, the same feel of his own
fur. Soft… But would it feel different if he felt that body, and it wasn't him?
Would I have killed him, had I met him, only for his beauty?
He had done that before. Flash of a smile, glimpse of such sharp teeth…
Blood. Tinge of that sweet smell on the air, and now his forever. He had been
such a jealous creature. None could surpass him. He wouldn't have allowed it.
But now, what of him? This young man. How long had it been since he had been
young? Had he ever been? There was no childhood to remember the first time. It
made the second one so hard…
Memories hurt like flaming swords sometimes…
One hand swiping across that glass, more smears over the stranger's face.
There was that sweet, strange smile again. His grace was still there. Perfect
control. Even in this body. It was smaller than he was used to. Perhaps it would
grow, if he wanted. But, no, it fit. A little snugly, but he was comfortable
with the new shape. Long fingers that could perform so many quick little tasks,
flying like little white birds. Graceful and strong legs, letting him fly like
the wind. Arms that could wrap around someone in a gesture of comfort, or hold
them tight and vulnerable. And the long hair… He loved to indulge in it… A
cloak, a wing, feathers of silk falling like snow, like blood… His. This crimson
flow fell differently, but it was long, it was luxurious. It was still his.
Always mine.
From now till forever, it seemed, they would never be separated, even after
this mortal body's death. It was so fragile, this flesh, with skin that bruised,
tore, bled thin streams of red, aches that gathered the cold to sore muscles and
strained joints. Little things so easily taken for granted when they weren't
present, weren't there to sting and prick at your concentration, daily life. How
could you recognize the pain, if it weren't there, or remember the slow torture
when the energy was endless? But the release from it was then so much more
precious and treasured when there was a pain to escape. That breath of fresh,
cool air to soothe the burning flames and claws was a beautiful thing only when
you knew it was missing. So often, under star-filled demon skies, it had been
ignored before.
'And love?' the human side whispers. 'Friendship?' Can it be proven which of
the two thought the mental sigh first? Many years ago, perhaps. 'Can it now be
seen how another's soul, touch, can be that breeze to cool the sword's graze as
easily as it can be the razor sharp edge?
Vulnerable, once again, seeing what was and what is.
But was it something to regret? A moment of pure thought, a search through
dark halls of the mind, lighted pools of reflection as those long fingers lift a
single flower from a vase, scarlet against ivory, memories against memories. Was
the pain brought by the connection with others, a clasp of heart to heart
forever, worth the heat once the ones known were lost for all time to everything
but remembrance, taking those pieces of his own soul with it?
Everyone has scars...
No, and yes. The rose brushes down smooth skin, silk on silk, a delicate cool
touch. There was no regret. The worth was there, and full. A mother, a brother,
true understanding found in allies, in men and women that he could consider
something real. A friend.
In you as well, my human self...
The lessons of hardness had been learned in another lifetime, and now he was
to learn the lessons of gentleness, of kindness and caring. The opportunity was
not to be forsaken to add to a soul of sharp light the touch that would smooth
the edges into something final. And, like every lesson, there were prices behind
the knowledge. He was no longer himself, but, in the same, was himself, and
beyond. A truer form, perhaps? He had lost much, but gained so much more. The
risk was always there, but now, the creature he had once been was willing and
able to grasp the gamble fully, not letting go till there was nothing left and
further.
There is a true future, now...
A thorn pressed into the circle of a thumb, a fingertip, a soft prick of
warning and reminder of the sting still behind the deadly beauty, hidden but
remaining. Another price to pay, the shadows to grant others the ability to
survive, accept, but no, there was no regret. For either of them.
"Shuuichi!"
Bright green eyes lifting from the tiny bead of heated life's blood forming
beneath the green sharpness to harmonize with red satin, and, once again, that
new sweet smile at the soft human voice. Oil and water were changed forever,
heated and mixed, becoming something new, something different. No longer the
kitsune. No longer the human child. Two were one, never separate from the other.
Neither, but both. A duet that could not be parted, and would never choose to
be. It was a beautiful thing.
"Hai, Okaasan, I'll be there in a moment!"
The smudged mirror watched on as the young man walked away, and if it showed
a flash of silver hair intertwined with the red, there was none to see but the
simple, perfect rose left on the table.
~~~,~~'~~,~~'~~{@