Fanfics - Multiple fandoms
Once upon a time, on a distant planet far, far away, two people decided to shamelessly abuse their friend. They set her a very strange challenge, which was accepted…
honou and blackbloodrunya challenged me to write ten fics, in ten different fandoms, all with the same title. I was given three titles to choose from, and being the idiot I am, I picked the hardest to work with.
Exodus.
The fandoms I picked are, in order:
1) The Prince of Tennis [ZukaRyo]
2) Bleach [Ishida-centric]
3) Harry Potter [Harry-centric]
4) Digimon 02 [Daisuke and Ken-centric]
5) Naruto [Naruto+Sasuke]
6) FullMetal Alchemist [RoyEd]
7) HunterXHunter [Gon+Killua]
8) Kyou Kara Maou [ConYuu, YuuWolf]
9) Yuu Yuu Hakusho [KuramaHiei]
10) Shaman King [Hao+Yoh]
I’ll admit right now that not all of them are good. Some of these fandoms I’ve never written for, or haven’t written for in a long time. Those fics generally ended up on crack, and short, besides.
My favourites are the Yuu Yuu Hakusho and FullMetal Alchemist ones.
Ratings vary through the fics, but nothing more than a PG-15, I think.
Warnings for strange content, biblical references and general lack of sleep on my part. It produces odd things.
It wasn’t as though it was unexpected, of course. With his rapid rise as a star in tennis, his constant excelling at his studies and his good looks, it was only a matter of time. Anyone who had a life like his would have to deal with this particular problem at some time, but the thought that he wasn’t alone wasn’t of much comfort to Tezuka.
Sometimes, Tezuka thought they were rather like lemmings, in exodus, moving as a collective mass. That just made it all the harder to shake them off, of course. Running from a gigantic mass of people was a little hard, but he was fitter than most of them, so that wasn’t a problem.
It only turned into a problem if they managed to corner him. Like they’d done now.
Tezuka tried very hard not to shiver and cry for mercy at the sheer number of hearts twinkling around the hoard of girls.
“Tezuka-kun!” one exclaimed, stepping forward with a letter in her hands. “Please read-”
As if that had been some unseen signal, suddenly the whole crowd was pressing forward, the vast majority of them holding letters or presents or bentos… and of course, there were a few thrusting certain things at him that he’d really rather not have known existed.
Tezuka could practically see the looks on his team-mates faces if they could see him now. He could deal with girls singly. Turning them down politely was something he’d turned into an art form by now. Crowds like this, however…
He couldn’t help the small sweatdrop that inched its way nervously down the back of his head.
“Ano…” he began, wondering what he could possibly say to stay the raving hoard. “I…”
“He’s taken, you know.”
It was only sheer willpower that kept Tezuka from blushing as he realised that Echizen was standing there, off to the side - laughing at him. Well, that would be twenty laps for the first-year, now wouldn’t it?
“Don’t think his girlfriend would be very pleased with you lot if she knew,” Echizen drawled out, smirking as a few of the girls started leaving, looking dejected. He waved a hand at those who still lingered. “Go on, shoo. We need buchou for practice now.”
“You do get yourself into some strange situations, buchou,” Echizen commented dryly.
“Twenty laps, Echizen,” Tezuka said automatically. “You’re supposed to be at practice now.”
“What, no thanks for your saviour?” Echizen asked somewhat indignantly. “For your information, Ryuuzaki-sensei sent me to find you. She and Oishi-sempai were laughing away like anything - bet you they knew what you’d gotten yourself into.”
“It’s not like I asked for it,” Tezuka said with barely disguised exasperation.
“You could have just spread rumours that you were taken,” Echizen pointed out with a smirk. “It’s what I did. Why do you think my fanclub disbanded?”
Tezuka decided that he wouldn’t bother dignifying that particular suggestion with a response, and stalked off towards the club room. Echizen followed him, an amused look on his face, successfully disguising his annoyance at his shorter stride; he was forced to practically run to keep up with Tezuka. “Or, you could always really get together with someone. The girls will stop following you around so much then.”
“Are you volunteering?” Tezuka asked, stopping so abruptly that Echizen nearly ran into his back.
For his part, Echizen only got out a bewildered, “Eh?” before warm lips closed over his own. Through the content bliss that settled over him, he vaguely realised that seeing his trademark smirk on someone else’s face was really quite annoying.
Which, knowing Tezuka, was probably why he was doing it.
Echizen managed to make up his mind to get revenge of some sort later, just before he lost all ability to think coherently.
~fin
For a school assignment, Uryuu thinks that this is utterly the most pointless thing he has ever done.
He has had to complete some very strange assignments, but this one is one of the most tedious, annoying ones he’s ever had the displeasure of doing. He has no doubt that his English vocabulary will be somewhat increased through it, but that knowledge doesn’t relieve the tedium in any way.
He looks through his bookshelf to see if he has any English books he can use for the assignment. He suspects he will have to go down to the library to get something, but eventually spots a rather worn book at the back of the shelf. Frowning, he pulls it out. It isn’t something he recognises, and when he opens the first page, it quickly becomes apparent why.
It is a book that used to belong to his mother. Uryuu has no idea why the book is here of all places, in his tiny little apartment, but supposes that he accidentally packed it when he was leaving home. Odd, that he has never noticed it before, but he suddenly knows what his project will be based on. He sits down at his table with the well-used bible, turning its pages with a reverence that has nothing to do with religion.
This is a book that had once belonged to his mother. And evidently she had treasured it. Uryuu feels an unfamiliar pang of longing for her and frowns at himself.
He stops scanning the pages looking for her untidy scrawls and markings across the book, focusing instead on the section titles. He writes down each one as neatly as possible, and then opens up his dictionary, trying to translate each word as best he can.
He pauses at the second word. It is completely unfamiliar to him and he frowns as he searches for a definition. It refers to a “departure of a large number of people,” according to the dictionary, but that definition doesn’t satisfy him. What exactly does that mean? And what constituted a large number of people?
Unable to ignore his curiosity, he skims through the section and begins to understand why it is named as it is. The departure of the slaves from their masters would evidently be a significant event in history. He understands, too, how almost an entire section of a religious text can be devoted to this event. Gaining freedom from one’s captors is the most joyous experience one can ever possibly have.
Uryuu understands this very well. For a brief, unwanted moment, he thinks of his father; then he banishes that spectre of his past and thinks instead of the friends he now has. Of Ichigo and Orihime and Chad and of the Soul Society idiots, as he liked to call the majority of the Shinigami he knew.
Uryuu understands, too, that the reason the slaves followed Moses was not only to escape their captors. They wanted better lives for themselves. And through their own hardship, they wanted to create those lives themselves.
Uryuu decides that he will complete this assignment later and sets it aside. He picks up his phone and dials Ichigo’s number before he can change his mind. Predictably, it doesn’t take long to convince Ichigo to meet him outside for sundaes.
Uryuu glances at the bills that have just arrived and remembers that his rent is due soon. He will have to save a bit of money from his pay this week to make up the remainder of what he owes in rent. But it’s worth it, considering he is away from his father and his dictates and rules and attempts to run Uryuu’s life.
Uryuu thinks that he may be an Ishida, but he will be Uryuu first and foremost. And Uryuu currently has homework to neglect, a friend to meet and ice-cream to attack and therefore, he pulls on a coat, locks the door, and heads out, feeling unusually peaceful.
~fin
Sometime along the way, Harry realised, he’d lost his ability to care.
Now, watching the carnage unfolding before him, he found himself completely unable to care about it at all. In fact, he was criticising the civilians as in their panic and fear they gathered together.
They really oughtn’t to move in groups like that, of course. Such an exodus only made it easier for the Death Eaters to kill them off. They might have thought that there was safety in numbers, but in a case like this, when the Death Eaters were just looking for large numbers of casualties, they might as well have been a herd of sheep led to the slaughter. The Killing Curse wasn’t discriminatory, and Harry watched dispassionately as more people fell dead.
It was their fault, after all, for not having the sense to scatter.
Most people seemed to be heading for Gringott’s, and the safety that its wards afforded. Harry remained where he was in the alley, waiting to see if he would be noticed as he surreptitiously sent lethal, painful curses the way of the Death Eaters.
When one stray curse from him hit Ron instead, Harry blinked in bemusement. He could have sworn Ron hadn’t been there before - but did that matter? A war meant casualties. It was a pity Ron had to die, but there was no way around it. No way to reverse death.
Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak tighter around himself, only allowing the tip of his wand to poke out from it. As he took down two more Death Eaters in quick succession, he wondered why he wasn’t feeling more grief at the thought that he’d just killed Ron.
Then he shrugged off the thought and returned to work. He still had training with Dumbledore in the evening, and wanted to finish this quickly.
Dumbledore sat in his office alone and cried at what he’d done.
~fin
They still couldn’t make any sense of it. Digimon weren’t given to mass migrations, except for a few types that had herd instincts. But these certainly weren’t migratory creatures that were fleeing past them.
“What’s spooked them?” Daisuke wondered out loud, XV-mon hovering uneasily behind him. Ken shook his head delicately, cradling his injured Leafmon in his arms gently.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen the Digimon act this way.” Even when I was the Kaiser, the unspoken words hung between them, and Daisuke couldn’t resist the urge to punch Ken in the shoulder. Violet eyes looked up at him from under a fringe in what might have been a smirk.
“They’re running from something,” Ken murmured, casting those eyes back over the Digimon before Daisuke could figure out exactly what that look had meant. “Like there’s something… driving them, almost.”
A sudden splashing behind them made them turn around, and Daisuke’s heart sank as he saw the Digimon leap into the water heedless of whether they could actually swim.
“Stop!” he yelled, aware even as he did so that it was perfectly useless. “Stop it!” And then beside him he heard that funny gasp that meant that Ken had finally figured out what was happening.
“Exodus,” Ken whispered, and suddenly Daisuke understood what exactly that meant. It was perhaps his last clear thought before the world exploded in a haze of red and pain and Ken’s screams.
Because you have breached the normal order of things. Because, as a slave, you have learnt not to submit. Because you have dared to challenge my dominion over you.
Ken turned, very slowly, and came face-to-face with himself.
~fin
He wondered often, why people went about in groups. And why he was always the one alone.
He was fairly positive that it wasn’t anything about himself, per se. There were always some kids who were willing to play with him, before their parents pulled them away. After that it had become habit to simply avoid him.
Only much later did the bullying start.
Why did people like being around each other? Why did they actually enjoy being around other people? All people ever did was make fun of him. What could possibly be so fun about having that happen to you?
He didn’t want friends, if that was what friends did to each other.
But then, he knew that it wasn’t really what friends did to each other. It was what people did to him. And he didn’t have any friends.
Until the boy with the black eyes had appeared.
He didn’t know who the boy was. He’d never seen him around before. Obviously, everyone else knew who he was, but no one would ever tell him anything, so he didn’t know.
He’d first seen him while sitting under a tree, away from his classmates. He’d liked the boy at first sight, simply because he’d been annoyed by the attentions of his classmates. Anyone who didn’t like them was all right by his book.
He’d been all set to go over and introduce himself when he’d remembered.
He wasn’t anyone’s friend.
So Naruto settled for watching him from afar.
And hurting. And waiting.
Until the day when Sasuke smiled at him.
~fin
It was an uncertain, fleeting thing. Neither could really remember how it began, how it had started. It had progressed too quickly, none of the feeling there that there should have been. Only the empty ache, the temporary satiation, the occasional happiness. The returning emptiness.
Not many knew about them and of those who did, none approved. It wasn’t right. Even they could tell that simple fact. And yet they kept at it because it was a convenient release, and not having any attachments just made it easier to keep their distance. It was a distance both wanted to close with someone, but didn’t trust themselves to. So they stayed with their arrangement, the two of them, because they recognised the twin needs in them.
The younger of the two often told himself that it was an additional source of income, and being with the older wasn’t really a bad thing after all. They knew each other, could trust each other to some small degree. There would never be any sort of love between them. Neither was capable of giving that much of himself to another. So the younger one would lie under the other, still, waiting. After, he would sit combing his long golden hair out before getting ready to return to his anxious, disapproving younger brother. The older one would sit there and watch him with dark, haunted eyes.
They never greeted each other, or said goodbye. It couldn’t even be termed formal, because they rarely spoke a word to each other. Whenever one showed up at the other’s house, somehow they knew when it was a business trip, and when it was this solace they were seeking. They had no need for words then. Words were the last thing they wanted, the thing that would define this meaningless struggle that they didn’t want defined.
No one could really understand the two of them. How they could bear to turn something like that into a mercenary matter, and still face each other the next day. Still speak civilly, normally. No one understood that for them, these sometimes-nights were what was normal. They lived a farcical life the rest of the time, and no one ever suspected them.
Because they were refugees in exodus from original sin*. And because there was no one else who could understand them quite like the other could. No one ever saw them in the moments immediately after that second of happiness, dark hair meshing with gold, breath puffing out, mingling. No one ever saw them in that second of happiness, that fraction of a moment, that sliver of time when both smiled, gold eyes and black. Those who judged them saw only the money that changed hands at the end of it, when the happiness had passed and the emptiness had returned. They couldn’t possibly understand.
And the younger knew that he could never do this with anyone else. With this man, he could, since he felt he owed him his life. It wasn’t a particularly brilliant life, but the man had given him the courage to go on. He owed him, and he’d repay it in his blood. The days were filled pursuing his dream of blood and evading his death, skipping ahead of it merrily, whistling a cheerful tune while his legs withered beneath him. The days were spent trying to escape his sin and failing, being choked by it and waiting for death to catch up to him in the form of a suit of armour, its accusing eyes. The nights belonged to nightmares and dark dreams, blank, dank spaces in his head. The nights also belonged to dark hair and dark eyes and a fathomless depth, and a tiny spark in him that was extinguished before it could be lit.
So he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t if he’d wanted to. Neither of them could have possibly stopped these intermittent transactions. Neither of them particularly wanted to. Let the people around them worry, accuse them, cry, scream. They had both learnt to ignore the world outside. They both lived in their own worlds anyway, worlds in which there were possibilities of happiness.
They lived, vicariously, through each other.
~fin
* Original quote:
“Refugees in exodus from original sins, they turn need
into a marketable good, wallets fat with wages
for a pleasure cruise through the flesh, the hope
for miracles, the love without price,
the unconditional devotion, the nurse who embalms
the deep wounds of betrayal with her kisses,
faded long ago.”
~Excerpt from Bangkok Blues, Boey Kim Cheng
For a time, he’d thought that he’d be able to leave his old life behind him. For a time, he’d thought that being with Gon would be enough for him, that he’d be able to just live as he wanted. Kurapica would be there when he was done with his pointless revenge, or maybe before, if he realised its futility. Leorio would be there to give them free medical treatment. And everything would be like it had been and would be.
For a time, he’d really believed that. Then one day, he’d gotten a letter from someone at his hotel. It wasn’t really a letter, either; just a single line on a piece of paper. When are you coming home? When he’d read that, he hadn’t been sure what to do. And why would they expect him to come home? They had let him go… he had let him go. He’d had to suppress the urge to scream that beside Gon was where his home was now. It would have been pointless, and he’d have woken Gon up anyway.
At the very least, he always tried to refrain from killing anyone now. He never did like to see Gon upset. Gon’s eyes had a way of clouding over when he was trying not to show that he was sad or angry. They hazed over, a little mist in them. Killua preferred to see Gon’s eyes clear because then the happiness shone through much more clearly, and that made him feel a little more human. So he tried his best not to kill anyone, and every time he spared someone’s life, Gon’s eyes lit up just that little bit more and Killua came alive just that little bit more.
But when push came to shove, there was just no running away from it, really. He had always been, would always be, a killer. That was what defined him.
Fire crackled merrily.
“Killua?”
It was a moment before he turned. “You haven’t left yet?” he asked, the unspoken remainder of the sentence hanging in the air. Like everyone else.
“I wouldn’t go without you, Killua. You’ll get sick if you stay here any longer. Let’s go?”
Hazy blue-green eyes slid shut almost lazily. A plague will strike you, he thought oddly, irrelevantly. It will strike down the first-borns and leave the youngest children to play in the streets amongst the corpses of their brothers. Then he was walking with Gon down the quiet street and he saw the blood painting the doors of the houses and he couldn’t help but laugh.
~fin
Yuuri had never been an avid fan of history, and he couldn’t really be faulted for not knowing how kings lived in the past. He was fairly certain, however, that they were supposed to live fairly lavish lifestyles, golden clothes, embellished carriages, fleets of ships and all.
At the very least, he thought, a king ought to have a couple of boats at his disposal, especially when travel by water was the most convenient way to get to other countries.
So when Gunter informed his king that no, there was no boat available for use and that no, they couldn’t possibly wait for one to arrive from the mainland and that yes, this really was only the only other viable alternative, Yuuri still wasn’t too happy.
“For heaven’s sake, it’s a battalion of floating sheep,” he protested, still staring in disbelief at the white creatures that seemed almost too at home in the water.
“Well, if they’ll get you safely across, Your Majesty…”
A heartbeat.
“Conrad, you too?!” Yuuri all but wailed, having been counting on the staid soldier to be the voice of sanity. Conrad simply smiled at him, adjusting his sword and stepping forward, closer to Yuuri.
“It’s all right, Your Majesty. The trip won’t be too long, and you won’t even have to step in the water. The sheep seem quite high out of the water.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Yuuri grumbled, but at a near-growl from Gwendal, hastily accepted Conrad’s helping hand in climbing up on an obliging sheep. He was mildly surprised when Conrad clambered up the same sheep gracefully, seating himself behind Yuuri as if they were riding a horse instead of a floating sheep. Another sheep came bobbing up beside them, a purple-faced Wolfram glaring at the two.
Conrad smiled back at him. “I will protect His Majesty,” he murmured steadily. Wolfram huffed and turned away, and only then did Yuuri allow himself to blush.
“Shall we go then?”
Yuuri blinked at the sight of Gwendal perched atop a ridiculously large white sheep. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak in case he burst out laughing instead. Gwendal courteously pretended not to notice, taking the lead with his sheep, the rest of the flock paddling happily behind it. It was a large flock too, since they hadn’t been able to separate just a few from the main flock.
So they were riding atop a flotilla of… sheep.
Yuuri snorted in amusement, thankful that the sheep was soft and fluffy, at least. Against his back, he could feel Conrad’s chest vibrate in amusement, and smiled, knowing that the older man had somehow guessed his thoughts again.
“We’re going to have a lot of sheep in our country, aren’t we?” Yuuri asked, leaning into Conrad’s chest with a sigh that wasn’t altogether unhappy. He felt the other man shift slightly, shrugging in response.
“Unless they decide to go back on their own, probably,” he agreed. “There isn’t really any way we can make them return.”
“Gigantic sheep floating around in the harbour,” Yuuri envisioned, and then groaned mournfully. “I’m ruined. I’ll never be taken seriously again.”
Conrad laughed lightly even as the sheep they were riding bleated in protest. The laugh threatened to become a truly amused one when Yuuri attempted to assure the sheep that he hadn’t really meant it, but thankfully he managed to choke it down, gazing fondly at Yuuri instead.
Yuuri sighed in relief and turned to Conrad, smiling sheepishly. “I think I’ll keep my mouth shut now,” he decided, leaning back against Conrad once more.
“If you wish to, Your Majesty,” Conrad replied, serenely unconcerned.
He wondered what Yuuri would think when he realised that the reason no boats were available was because the people on the shore had been trying to get rid of the sheep.
~fin
I have always believed that my emotions have run away with me. Not in the sense it’s usually meant, but that my emotions have up and left, leaving me here unsure of how to care or hate or long for. It’s a painful thing, this indifference, but I’m not sure I know how to break it. I’m not sure I want to, whether the fox would like me to or not. It’s been useful so far, and I don’t want to feel that one emotion again anyway. So it’s probably a very good thing indeed that my emotions have all left me, run away in a mass migration to some other more deserving soul.
Heh, maybe they went to the fox. It would explain why he’s so very able to feel. I’ve never understood how he could allow himself to. From what little I know of his past as the Youko, there ought to have been nothing to inspire trust of any sort in anyone at all. And yet, somehow, he’s able to open himself up in a way that I’ve only ever seen humans do. I’ve always despised them for that; for showing the world their weaknesses and acting proud of it. But then the fox does it too, and he’s strong - so suddenly I find myself not knowing very much anymore.
I live by certain rules. The strong prevail. The weak die. And having emotions, feelings, for anyone is a weakness. Caring for someone is liable to get you killed. The only person I allow myself to care for is Yukina, and then only because she is my twin.
You don’t think that being close to anyone is a good thing. You have never seen any good come of having a relationship. Despite that, you can’t help the unfamiliar tugging on your heart when you’re with them. No matter how much you insult them all, or ignore them, or verbally attack them, no matter your history with them, you cannot deny the fact that you enjoy being around them.
You are nothing if not honest to yourself. Others receive the full brunt of your cynicism, your verbal side-stepping, your sly insinuations and loaded comments. To them you have many layers but to yourself you are naked. It is a promise you made yourself a long time ago, and a promise you intend to uphold. You will never lie to yourself.
It is a promise that has kept you feeling vaguely alive all these years. Everyday you die a little more but as long as you can acknowledge that fact, then you aren’t completely dead. And now, with these perhaps-comrades of yours, you can feel some parts of you coming alive again. The two idiots’ bantering has become a familiar sound, so much so that you can actually relax around them. And of course, there’s the fox’s familiar scent of roses and metal, always surrounding you; his solid, warm presence nearby as he watches the fight in amusement.
More than anything else, you can feel the fox’s presence. You are always so completely attuned to him, even if you don’t know why, exactly. Certainly the others are as powerful as him, so it cannot possibly be his strength that pulls you to him. You think that it might perhaps be the strong, albeit scent about him. The strange, exotic, almost tantalising combination of roses and death that clung to him. You think, too, that perhaps it’s the way he carries himself. The other two are always so brash, so self-confident and full of themselves, but the fox - he’s all stealthy grace and liquid ease whenever he moves, whenever he speaks, whenever he’s doing anything when you look at him.
You’re looking at him more and more often these days, and you don’t know why.
You’re lying to yourself for the first time in your life, and your conscience tugs at you slightly. You look away from vibrant red and green and try and be honest to yourself.
But you don’t know how.
Kurama realises that he is studying Hiei again only when the dark-haired man shifts and glances away. With an inward sigh at Hiei’s obvious discomfort, Kurama pushes himself away from the wall, moving towards Yusuke and Kuwabara with an easy smile. It takes him no more than a few moments to convince them to take their fight outside. It’s an easy argument to win, since dusk is already falling and it is well past time for them to be leaving his house anyway.
Hiei is another matter. His mother doesn’t even know that he’s up here, since he arrived in his usual fashion through the window. Kurama hadn’t been quite able to hide his amusement at Hiei’s annoyance on realising that the other two were there as well. Kurama enjoyed a bit of quiet time with Hiei as much as the latter did, but he did think it was nice for the four of them to spend time together sometimes.
They’d simply gone through too much together for Hiei not to be comfortable around them, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. Kurama hadn’t missed the minute relaxing of Hiei’s shoulders when Yusuke and Kuwabara had gotten into another pointless fight over absolutely nothing.
Kurama sees Yusuke and Kuwabara out the door. Before going back into the house, he glances up at his window, but it is already quite dark and he is unable to distinguish the branches of the tree beside the house from anything else. If he focused a little more, he would be able to see more clearly, but for today he would prefer not to draw on the fox’s powers.
He goes back inside, kisses his mother goodnight and heads back up to his room. When he opens the door, he is mildly surprised to find Hiei still perched on his windowsill.
“Enjoyed yourself?” he inquires blandly as he closes the door and moves to his table. He can hear his mother down the hallway entering her own room and presumably making preparations for bed as well. Hiei grunts noncommittally and says nothing else.
Kurama hesitates at the table for a moment before continuing to the windowsill. Hiei draws his legs out of the way so that Kurama can lean on the sill, gazing out into the inky stillness that is swiftly descending on the neighbourhood.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Kurama asks, noticing the number of stars visible this night. Hiei doesn’t even make a sound in response, but Kurama catches the minute nod of his head.
Hiei is looking at him, and Kurama turns to smile at him. Sometimes, Kurama thinks that he understands Hiei better than anyone else, but sometimes, he also feels that Hiei is completely alien to him. This is one of those times when he cannot in the least grasp what Hiei is feeling. Watching Hiei turn his head away dismissively, Kurama cannot help but feel just a little hurt.
And suddenly, as Hiei brings his legs under him in a crouch, he cannot help but feel a little like a fool as well. Before Hiei can spring away and before he loses his nerve, he catches Hiei’s sleeve, slipping the rose he is carrying into Hiei’s hand.
“I’ll see you soon,” Kurama says, smiling again, because this time Hiei hasn’t dismissed him. This time, Hiei’s hand has closed around the rose convulsively and he is looking at Kurama in something like discomfited surprise and wonder. The same hand that is callused and hard from gripping a sword looks somewhat awkward holding the rose in such a vicious grasp, but it is Kurama’s rose, and it will not wither easily.
“Aa,” Hiei finally says, and completes his once-arrested leap into the darkness. Kurama watches him until he can see nothing more than darkness again, and only then does he close the curtains and return to bed.
The window remains open still, curtains billowing in the soft wind. An invitation.
Kurama hopes that one day, Hiei will take it.
Hiei doesn’t think he’ll ever comprehend this phenomenon of “emotions.” It is a concept so completely alien to him as to be a little frightening. He hadn’t ever thought he’d have the opportunity to feel any sort of emotion. Ever. He hadn’t ever intended to, had never wanted to. He has always planned on living without emotion, because that has always seemed the safest way to live.
The damned fox had just thrown a wrench into that plan.
But it’s only fair, Hiei thinks. Since the fox had clearly stolen Hiei’s emotions, it was only fair he pay him back by creating new ones. Time for the exodus to reverse.
Hiei opens his fist and looks at the rose lying there. He’s crushed the stem slightly but as he watches, it heals. The petals straighten slightly, the rose a vibrant red.
Red, like…
Hiei raises the rose and breathes in its aroma. It carries a familiar, secondary smell with it. One of blood.
Roses and blood.
Hiei cannot think of anything but how apt it is.
~fin
“You’re making a Noah’s Ark, Hao?”
The youthful shaman deigned to look up after a few moments, smiling as he saw Yoh standing before him, hands tucked in his pockets casually. There were weights around his wrists and ankles, probably chafing him most uncomfortably. Really, that Anna girl ought to treat his other self better, Hao thought, finally rising. “You noticed?”
Yoh was actually surprised that Hao had bothered to answer. He’d never even expected to come upon his twin while training, but he’d take any opportunity he could to talk to the boy who’d been occupying all his thoughts lately. “So, who’s the other human going to be?”
“Well, I was thinking I could take you with me, but that would pretty much defeat the purpose of things, wouldn’t it?” Hao smiled innocently.
“You’re teasing me…” Yoh’s voice trailed off suspiciously.
“You noticed?” Hao’s smile never wavered, and Yoh shook his head sadly.
“So then what are you planning to do with all these animals? Set up your own breeding farm?”
“Exactly right, my dear brother.” Hao picked up a cat and pushed it into Yoh’s arms. “I think he’ll grow into a fine stud, don’t you?”
“… Stop teasing me, Hao!”
“But you do set yourself up for it very nicely,” Hao protested. “To be truthful, I’m sending these animals on a little voyage.”
Yoh started at that, unconsciously cuddling the kitten to his chest. “A voyage?”
“Mm. An exodus of sorts. To a place I’ve managed to create for them.” Hao waved negligently at the assortment of animals around him. “I don’t have all species, but some of the most endangered ones are well represented. I won’t let them die.”
“You won’t, at that,” Yoh replied softly, suddenly and unaccountably sad. He stroked the softly purring kitten’s head with a gentle finger, only then realising that it wasn’t a domestic cat. It was definitely some sort of wild cat, if it’s firm, toothy grasp on Yoh’s finger was anything to go by.
“Ow,” Yoh commented idly, watching the cat dangle from his finger. Hao laughed and gently prised its jaws off.
“He’s really a sweet little thing. Just a little over-excitable at times,” Hao defended it, still smiling. Yoh shrugged.
“I never said I didn’t think he was gorgeous.”
“That’s a strong word to use,” Hao observed mildly.
Yoh chose to ignore that statement, asking a question that had been on his mind since he’d seen Hao. “So what are you doing here anyway?” Because Hao had never been sighted before in these parts, and there was no reason to suspect that he was staying anywhere near this area. So why would he bring his little menagerie here anyway?
“Well, I hear your inn has plenty of space,” Hao began, but was interrupted by a horrified screech from Yoh. Laughing, Hao attempted to placate his twin. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let them live there, I wouldn’t trust them to your fiancée.”
“Anna would probably make them do chores too,” Yoh commented dryly, recovering from his shock remarkably fast. Hao just barely managed to suppress a twitch at the thought.
“She probably would,” he agreed blandly. “To answer your question, I’m only here because it’s relatively quiet. Also because your power resonates with mine, which makes it easier for me to transport the animals.”
“Last question, if you don’t mind,” Yoh said after a moment. Hao nodded, eyes and lips curving in amusement.
“Are you going to hurt any of my friends? Or anyone here?”
At that, Hao opened his eyes to find Yoh suddenly deadly serious, dark eyes fixed on him unflinchingly. He considered the question for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
“Right now, they don’t interest me,” he murmured. “You’re the only one I’m interested in at the moment, Yoh… and I won’t kill you for now.”
Yoh stared at him for a few moments longer, before breathing out heavily in what might have been aggravation or relief. Visibly relaxing, he said, “That ‘for now’ isn’t very comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Hao said pleasantly. “And is that ghost related to you?”
“Eh?” Yoh looked behind him, coming face-to-face with a very familiar transparent figure. The ghost that haunted their house waved at him cheerily.
Yoh simply looked at the ghost for a moment, eyes blank. Then…
“Ahhh!! Anna’s going to kill me!”
~fin
So. Even if you don’t know all the fandoms… review? Please? ^_^;
honou and blackbloodrunya challenged me to write ten fics, in ten different fandoms, all with the same title. I was given three titles to choose from, and being the idiot I am, I picked the hardest to work with.
Exodus.
The fandoms I picked are, in order:
1) The Prince of Tennis [ZukaRyo]
2) Bleach [Ishida-centric]
3) Harry Potter [Harry-centric]
4) Digimon 02 [Daisuke and Ken-centric]
5) Naruto [Naruto+Sasuke]
6) FullMetal Alchemist [RoyEd]
7) HunterXHunter [Gon+Killua]
8) Kyou Kara Maou [ConYuu, YuuWolf]
9) Yuu Yuu Hakusho [KuramaHiei]
10) Shaman King [Hao+Yoh]
I’ll admit right now that not all of them are good. Some of these fandoms I’ve never written for, or haven’t written for in a long time. Those fics generally ended up on crack, and short, besides.
My favourites are the Yuu Yuu Hakusho and FullMetal Alchemist ones.
Ratings vary through the fics, but nothing more than a PG-15, I think.
Warnings for strange content, biblical references and general lack of sleep on my part. It produces odd things.
It wasn’t as though it was unexpected, of course. With his rapid rise as a star in tennis, his constant excelling at his studies and his good looks, it was only a matter of time. Anyone who had a life like his would have to deal with this particular problem at some time, but the thought that he wasn’t alone wasn’t of much comfort to Tezuka.
Sometimes, Tezuka thought they were rather like lemmings, in exodus, moving as a collective mass. That just made it all the harder to shake them off, of course. Running from a gigantic mass of people was a little hard, but he was fitter than most of them, so that wasn’t a problem.
It only turned into a problem if they managed to corner him. Like they’d done now.
Tezuka tried very hard not to shiver and cry for mercy at the sheer number of hearts twinkling around the hoard of girls.
“Tezuka-kun!” one exclaimed, stepping forward with a letter in her hands. “Please read-”
As if that had been some unseen signal, suddenly the whole crowd was pressing forward, the vast majority of them holding letters or presents or bentos… and of course, there were a few thrusting certain things at him that he’d really rather not have known existed.
Tezuka could practically see the looks on his team-mates faces if they could see him now. He could deal with girls singly. Turning them down politely was something he’d turned into an art form by now. Crowds like this, however…
He couldn’t help the small sweatdrop that inched its way nervously down the back of his head.
“Ano…” he began, wondering what he could possibly say to stay the raving hoard. “I…”
“He’s taken, you know.”
It was only sheer willpower that kept Tezuka from blushing as he realised that Echizen was standing there, off to the side - laughing at him. Well, that would be twenty laps for the first-year, now wouldn’t it?
“Don’t think his girlfriend would be very pleased with you lot if she knew,” Echizen drawled out, smirking as a few of the girls started leaving, looking dejected. He waved a hand at those who still lingered. “Go on, shoo. We need buchou for practice now.”
“You do get yourself into some strange situations, buchou,” Echizen commented dryly.
“Twenty laps, Echizen,” Tezuka said automatically. “You’re supposed to be at practice now.”
“What, no thanks for your saviour?” Echizen asked somewhat indignantly. “For your information, Ryuuzaki-sensei sent me to find you. She and Oishi-sempai were laughing away like anything - bet you they knew what you’d gotten yourself into.”
“It’s not like I asked for it,” Tezuka said with barely disguised exasperation.
“You could have just spread rumours that you were taken,” Echizen pointed out with a smirk. “It’s what I did. Why do you think my fanclub disbanded?”
Tezuka decided that he wouldn’t bother dignifying that particular suggestion with a response, and stalked off towards the club room. Echizen followed him, an amused look on his face, successfully disguising his annoyance at his shorter stride; he was forced to practically run to keep up with Tezuka. “Or, you could always really get together with someone. The girls will stop following you around so much then.”
“Are you volunteering?” Tezuka asked, stopping so abruptly that Echizen nearly ran into his back.
For his part, Echizen only got out a bewildered, “Eh?” before warm lips closed over his own. Through the content bliss that settled over him, he vaguely realised that seeing his trademark smirk on someone else’s face was really quite annoying.
Which, knowing Tezuka, was probably why he was doing it.
Echizen managed to make up his mind to get revenge of some sort later, just before he lost all ability to think coherently.
~fin
For a school assignment, Uryuu thinks that this is utterly the most pointless thing he has ever done.
He has had to complete some very strange assignments, but this one is one of the most tedious, annoying ones he’s ever had the displeasure of doing. He has no doubt that his English vocabulary will be somewhat increased through it, but that knowledge doesn’t relieve the tedium in any way.
He looks through his bookshelf to see if he has any English books he can use for the assignment. He suspects he will have to go down to the library to get something, but eventually spots a rather worn book at the back of the shelf. Frowning, he pulls it out. It isn’t something he recognises, and when he opens the first page, it quickly becomes apparent why.
It is a book that used to belong to his mother. Uryuu has no idea why the book is here of all places, in his tiny little apartment, but supposes that he accidentally packed it when he was leaving home. Odd, that he has never noticed it before, but he suddenly knows what his project will be based on. He sits down at his table with the well-used bible, turning its pages with a reverence that has nothing to do with religion.
This is a book that had once belonged to his mother. And evidently she had treasured it. Uryuu feels an unfamiliar pang of longing for her and frowns at himself.
He stops scanning the pages looking for her untidy scrawls and markings across the book, focusing instead on the section titles. He writes down each one as neatly as possible, and then opens up his dictionary, trying to translate each word as best he can.
He pauses at the second word. It is completely unfamiliar to him and he frowns as he searches for a definition. It refers to a “departure of a large number of people,” according to the dictionary, but that definition doesn’t satisfy him. What exactly does that mean? And what constituted a large number of people?
Unable to ignore his curiosity, he skims through the section and begins to understand why it is named as it is. The departure of the slaves from their masters would evidently be a significant event in history. He understands, too, how almost an entire section of a religious text can be devoted to this event. Gaining freedom from one’s captors is the most joyous experience one can ever possibly have.
Uryuu understands this very well. For a brief, unwanted moment, he thinks of his father; then he banishes that spectre of his past and thinks instead of the friends he now has. Of Ichigo and Orihime and Chad and of the Soul Society idiots, as he liked to call the majority of the Shinigami he knew.
Uryuu understands, too, that the reason the slaves followed Moses was not only to escape their captors. They wanted better lives for themselves. And through their own hardship, they wanted to create those lives themselves.
Uryuu decides that he will complete this assignment later and sets it aside. He picks up his phone and dials Ichigo’s number before he can change his mind. Predictably, it doesn’t take long to convince Ichigo to meet him outside for sundaes.
Uryuu glances at the bills that have just arrived and remembers that his rent is due soon. He will have to save a bit of money from his pay this week to make up the remainder of what he owes in rent. But it’s worth it, considering he is away from his father and his dictates and rules and attempts to run Uryuu’s life.
Uryuu thinks that he may be an Ishida, but he will be Uryuu first and foremost. And Uryuu currently has homework to neglect, a friend to meet and ice-cream to attack and therefore, he pulls on a coat, locks the door, and heads out, feeling unusually peaceful.
~fin
Sometime along the way, Harry realised, he’d lost his ability to care.
Now, watching the carnage unfolding before him, he found himself completely unable to care about it at all. In fact, he was criticising the civilians as in their panic and fear they gathered together.
They really oughtn’t to move in groups like that, of course. Such an exodus only made it easier for the Death Eaters to kill them off. They might have thought that there was safety in numbers, but in a case like this, when the Death Eaters were just looking for large numbers of casualties, they might as well have been a herd of sheep led to the slaughter. The Killing Curse wasn’t discriminatory, and Harry watched dispassionately as more people fell dead.
It was their fault, after all, for not having the sense to scatter.
Most people seemed to be heading for Gringott’s, and the safety that its wards afforded. Harry remained where he was in the alley, waiting to see if he would be noticed as he surreptitiously sent lethal, painful curses the way of the Death Eaters.
When one stray curse from him hit Ron instead, Harry blinked in bemusement. He could have sworn Ron hadn’t been there before - but did that matter? A war meant casualties. It was a pity Ron had to die, but there was no way around it. No way to reverse death.
Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak tighter around himself, only allowing the tip of his wand to poke out from it. As he took down two more Death Eaters in quick succession, he wondered why he wasn’t feeling more grief at the thought that he’d just killed Ron.
Then he shrugged off the thought and returned to work. He still had training with Dumbledore in the evening, and wanted to finish this quickly.
Dumbledore sat in his office alone and cried at what he’d done.
~fin
They still couldn’t make any sense of it. Digimon weren’t given to mass migrations, except for a few types that had herd instincts. But these certainly weren’t migratory creatures that were fleeing past them.
“What’s spooked them?” Daisuke wondered out loud, XV-mon hovering uneasily behind him. Ken shook his head delicately, cradling his injured Leafmon in his arms gently.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen the Digimon act this way.” Even when I was the Kaiser, the unspoken words hung between them, and Daisuke couldn’t resist the urge to punch Ken in the shoulder. Violet eyes looked up at him from under a fringe in what might have been a smirk.
“They’re running from something,” Ken murmured, casting those eyes back over the Digimon before Daisuke could figure out exactly what that look had meant. “Like there’s something… driving them, almost.”
A sudden splashing behind them made them turn around, and Daisuke’s heart sank as he saw the Digimon leap into the water heedless of whether they could actually swim.
“Stop!” he yelled, aware even as he did so that it was perfectly useless. “Stop it!” And then beside him he heard that funny gasp that meant that Ken had finally figured out what was happening.
“Exodus,” Ken whispered, and suddenly Daisuke understood what exactly that meant. It was perhaps his last clear thought before the world exploded in a haze of red and pain and Ken’s screams.
Because you have breached the normal order of things. Because, as a slave, you have learnt not to submit. Because you have dared to challenge my dominion over you.
Ken turned, very slowly, and came face-to-face with himself.
~fin
He wondered often, why people went about in groups. And why he was always the one alone.
He was fairly positive that it wasn’t anything about himself, per se. There were always some kids who were willing to play with him, before their parents pulled them away. After that it had become habit to simply avoid him.
Only much later did the bullying start.
Why did people like being around each other? Why did they actually enjoy being around other people? All people ever did was make fun of him. What could possibly be so fun about having that happen to you?
He didn’t want friends, if that was what friends did to each other.
But then, he knew that it wasn’t really what friends did to each other. It was what people did to him. And he didn’t have any friends.
Until the boy with the black eyes had appeared.
He didn’t know who the boy was. He’d never seen him around before. Obviously, everyone else knew who he was, but no one would ever tell him anything, so he didn’t know.
He’d first seen him while sitting under a tree, away from his classmates. He’d liked the boy at first sight, simply because he’d been annoyed by the attentions of his classmates. Anyone who didn’t like them was all right by his book.
He’d been all set to go over and introduce himself when he’d remembered.
He wasn’t anyone’s friend.
So Naruto settled for watching him from afar.
And hurting. And waiting.
Until the day when Sasuke smiled at him.
~fin
It was an uncertain, fleeting thing. Neither could really remember how it began, how it had started. It had progressed too quickly, none of the feeling there that there should have been. Only the empty ache, the temporary satiation, the occasional happiness. The returning emptiness.
Not many knew about them and of those who did, none approved. It wasn’t right. Even they could tell that simple fact. And yet they kept at it because it was a convenient release, and not having any attachments just made it easier to keep their distance. It was a distance both wanted to close with someone, but didn’t trust themselves to. So they stayed with their arrangement, the two of them, because they recognised the twin needs in them.
The younger of the two often told himself that it was an additional source of income, and being with the older wasn’t really a bad thing after all. They knew each other, could trust each other to some small degree. There would never be any sort of love between them. Neither was capable of giving that much of himself to another. So the younger one would lie under the other, still, waiting. After, he would sit combing his long golden hair out before getting ready to return to his anxious, disapproving younger brother. The older one would sit there and watch him with dark, haunted eyes.
They never greeted each other, or said goodbye. It couldn’t even be termed formal, because they rarely spoke a word to each other. Whenever one showed up at the other’s house, somehow they knew when it was a business trip, and when it was this solace they were seeking. They had no need for words then. Words were the last thing they wanted, the thing that would define this meaningless struggle that they didn’t want defined.
No one could really understand the two of them. How they could bear to turn something like that into a mercenary matter, and still face each other the next day. Still speak civilly, normally. No one understood that for them, these sometimes-nights were what was normal. They lived a farcical life the rest of the time, and no one ever suspected them.
Because they were refugees in exodus from original sin*. And because there was no one else who could understand them quite like the other could. No one ever saw them in the moments immediately after that second of happiness, dark hair meshing with gold, breath puffing out, mingling. No one ever saw them in that second of happiness, that fraction of a moment, that sliver of time when both smiled, gold eyes and black. Those who judged them saw only the money that changed hands at the end of it, when the happiness had passed and the emptiness had returned. They couldn’t possibly understand.
And the younger knew that he could never do this with anyone else. With this man, he could, since he felt he owed him his life. It wasn’t a particularly brilliant life, but the man had given him the courage to go on. He owed him, and he’d repay it in his blood. The days were filled pursuing his dream of blood and evading his death, skipping ahead of it merrily, whistling a cheerful tune while his legs withered beneath him. The days were spent trying to escape his sin and failing, being choked by it and waiting for death to catch up to him in the form of a suit of armour, its accusing eyes. The nights belonged to nightmares and dark dreams, blank, dank spaces in his head. The nights also belonged to dark hair and dark eyes and a fathomless depth, and a tiny spark in him that was extinguished before it could be lit.
So he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t if he’d wanted to. Neither of them could have possibly stopped these intermittent transactions. Neither of them particularly wanted to. Let the people around them worry, accuse them, cry, scream. They had both learnt to ignore the world outside. They both lived in their own worlds anyway, worlds in which there were possibilities of happiness.
They lived, vicariously, through each other.
~fin
* Original quote:
“Refugees in exodus from original sins, they turn need
into a marketable good, wallets fat with wages
for a pleasure cruise through the flesh, the hope
for miracles, the love without price,
the unconditional devotion, the nurse who embalms
the deep wounds of betrayal with her kisses,
faded long ago.”
~Excerpt from Bangkok Blues, Boey Kim Cheng
For a time, he’d thought that he’d be able to leave his old life behind him. For a time, he’d thought that being with Gon would be enough for him, that he’d be able to just live as he wanted. Kurapica would be there when he was done with his pointless revenge, or maybe before, if he realised its futility. Leorio would be there to give them free medical treatment. And everything would be like it had been and would be.
For a time, he’d really believed that. Then one day, he’d gotten a letter from someone at his hotel. It wasn’t really a letter, either; just a single line on a piece of paper. When are you coming home? When he’d read that, he hadn’t been sure what to do. And why would they expect him to come home? They had let him go… he had let him go. He’d had to suppress the urge to scream that beside Gon was where his home was now. It would have been pointless, and he’d have woken Gon up anyway.
At the very least, he always tried to refrain from killing anyone now. He never did like to see Gon upset. Gon’s eyes had a way of clouding over when he was trying not to show that he was sad or angry. They hazed over, a little mist in them. Killua preferred to see Gon’s eyes clear because then the happiness shone through much more clearly, and that made him feel a little more human. So he tried his best not to kill anyone, and every time he spared someone’s life, Gon’s eyes lit up just that little bit more and Killua came alive just that little bit more.
But when push came to shove, there was just no running away from it, really. He had always been, would always be, a killer. That was what defined him.
Fire crackled merrily.
“Killua?”
It was a moment before he turned. “You haven’t left yet?” he asked, the unspoken remainder of the sentence hanging in the air. Like everyone else.
“I wouldn’t go without you, Killua. You’ll get sick if you stay here any longer. Let’s go?”
Hazy blue-green eyes slid shut almost lazily. A plague will strike you, he thought oddly, irrelevantly. It will strike down the first-borns and leave the youngest children to play in the streets amongst the corpses of their brothers. Then he was walking with Gon down the quiet street and he saw the blood painting the doors of the houses and he couldn’t help but laugh.
~fin
Yuuri had never been an avid fan of history, and he couldn’t really be faulted for not knowing how kings lived in the past. He was fairly certain, however, that they were supposed to live fairly lavish lifestyles, golden clothes, embellished carriages, fleets of ships and all.
At the very least, he thought, a king ought to have a couple of boats at his disposal, especially when travel by water was the most convenient way to get to other countries.
So when Gunter informed his king that no, there was no boat available for use and that no, they couldn’t possibly wait for one to arrive from the mainland and that yes, this really was only the only other viable alternative, Yuuri still wasn’t too happy.
“For heaven’s sake, it’s a battalion of floating sheep,” he protested, still staring in disbelief at the white creatures that seemed almost too at home in the water.
“Well, if they’ll get you safely across, Your Majesty…”
A heartbeat.
“Conrad, you too?!” Yuuri all but wailed, having been counting on the staid soldier to be the voice of sanity. Conrad simply smiled at him, adjusting his sword and stepping forward, closer to Yuuri.
“It’s all right, Your Majesty. The trip won’t be too long, and you won’t even have to step in the water. The sheep seem quite high out of the water.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Yuuri grumbled, but at a near-growl from Gwendal, hastily accepted Conrad’s helping hand in climbing up on an obliging sheep. He was mildly surprised when Conrad clambered up the same sheep gracefully, seating himself behind Yuuri as if they were riding a horse instead of a floating sheep. Another sheep came bobbing up beside them, a purple-faced Wolfram glaring at the two.
Conrad smiled back at him. “I will protect His Majesty,” he murmured steadily. Wolfram huffed and turned away, and only then did Yuuri allow himself to blush.
“Shall we go then?”
Yuuri blinked at the sight of Gwendal perched atop a ridiculously large white sheep. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak in case he burst out laughing instead. Gwendal courteously pretended not to notice, taking the lead with his sheep, the rest of the flock paddling happily behind it. It was a large flock too, since they hadn’t been able to separate just a few from the main flock.
So they were riding atop a flotilla of… sheep.
Yuuri snorted in amusement, thankful that the sheep was soft and fluffy, at least. Against his back, he could feel Conrad’s chest vibrate in amusement, and smiled, knowing that the older man had somehow guessed his thoughts again.
“We’re going to have a lot of sheep in our country, aren’t we?” Yuuri asked, leaning into Conrad’s chest with a sigh that wasn’t altogether unhappy. He felt the other man shift slightly, shrugging in response.
“Unless they decide to go back on their own, probably,” he agreed. “There isn’t really any way we can make them return.”
“Gigantic sheep floating around in the harbour,” Yuuri envisioned, and then groaned mournfully. “I’m ruined. I’ll never be taken seriously again.”
Conrad laughed lightly even as the sheep they were riding bleated in protest. The laugh threatened to become a truly amused one when Yuuri attempted to assure the sheep that he hadn’t really meant it, but thankfully he managed to choke it down, gazing fondly at Yuuri instead.
Yuuri sighed in relief and turned to Conrad, smiling sheepishly. “I think I’ll keep my mouth shut now,” he decided, leaning back against Conrad once more.
“If you wish to, Your Majesty,” Conrad replied, serenely unconcerned.
He wondered what Yuuri would think when he realised that the reason no boats were available was because the people on the shore had been trying to get rid of the sheep.
~fin
I have always believed that my emotions have run away with me. Not in the sense it’s usually meant, but that my emotions have up and left, leaving me here unsure of how to care or hate or long for. It’s a painful thing, this indifference, but I’m not sure I know how to break it. I’m not sure I want to, whether the fox would like me to or not. It’s been useful so far, and I don’t want to feel that one emotion again anyway. So it’s probably a very good thing indeed that my emotions have all left me, run away in a mass migration to some other more deserving soul.
Heh, maybe they went to the fox. It would explain why he’s so very able to feel. I’ve never understood how he could allow himself to. From what little I know of his past as the Youko, there ought to have been nothing to inspire trust of any sort in anyone at all. And yet, somehow, he’s able to open himself up in a way that I’ve only ever seen humans do. I’ve always despised them for that; for showing the world their weaknesses and acting proud of it. But then the fox does it too, and he’s strong - so suddenly I find myself not knowing very much anymore.
I live by certain rules. The strong prevail. The weak die. And having emotions, feelings, for anyone is a weakness. Caring for someone is liable to get you killed. The only person I allow myself to care for is Yukina, and then only because she is my twin.
You don’t think that being close to anyone is a good thing. You have never seen any good come of having a relationship. Despite that, you can’t help the unfamiliar tugging on your heart when you’re with them. No matter how much you insult them all, or ignore them, or verbally attack them, no matter your history with them, you cannot deny the fact that you enjoy being around them.
You are nothing if not honest to yourself. Others receive the full brunt of your cynicism, your verbal side-stepping, your sly insinuations and loaded comments. To them you have many layers but to yourself you are naked. It is a promise you made yourself a long time ago, and a promise you intend to uphold. You will never lie to yourself.
It is a promise that has kept you feeling vaguely alive all these years. Everyday you die a little more but as long as you can acknowledge that fact, then you aren’t completely dead. And now, with these perhaps-comrades of yours, you can feel some parts of you coming alive again. The two idiots’ bantering has become a familiar sound, so much so that you can actually relax around them. And of course, there’s the fox’s familiar scent of roses and metal, always surrounding you; his solid, warm presence nearby as he watches the fight in amusement.
More than anything else, you can feel the fox’s presence. You are always so completely attuned to him, even if you don’t know why, exactly. Certainly the others are as powerful as him, so it cannot possibly be his strength that pulls you to him. You think that it might perhaps be the strong, albeit scent about him. The strange, exotic, almost tantalising combination of roses and death that clung to him. You think, too, that perhaps it’s the way he carries himself. The other two are always so brash, so self-confident and full of themselves, but the fox - he’s all stealthy grace and liquid ease whenever he moves, whenever he speaks, whenever he’s doing anything when you look at him.
You’re looking at him more and more often these days, and you don’t know why.
You’re lying to yourself for the first time in your life, and your conscience tugs at you slightly. You look away from vibrant red and green and try and be honest to yourself.
But you don’t know how.
Kurama realises that he is studying Hiei again only when the dark-haired man shifts and glances away. With an inward sigh at Hiei’s obvious discomfort, Kurama pushes himself away from the wall, moving towards Yusuke and Kuwabara with an easy smile. It takes him no more than a few moments to convince them to take their fight outside. It’s an easy argument to win, since dusk is already falling and it is well past time for them to be leaving his house anyway.
Hiei is another matter. His mother doesn’t even know that he’s up here, since he arrived in his usual fashion through the window. Kurama hadn’t been quite able to hide his amusement at Hiei’s annoyance on realising that the other two were there as well. Kurama enjoyed a bit of quiet time with Hiei as much as the latter did, but he did think it was nice for the four of them to spend time together sometimes.
They’d simply gone through too much together for Hiei not to be comfortable around them, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. Kurama hadn’t missed the minute relaxing of Hiei’s shoulders when Yusuke and Kuwabara had gotten into another pointless fight over absolutely nothing.
Kurama sees Yusuke and Kuwabara out the door. Before going back into the house, he glances up at his window, but it is already quite dark and he is unable to distinguish the branches of the tree beside the house from anything else. If he focused a little more, he would be able to see more clearly, but for today he would prefer not to draw on the fox’s powers.
He goes back inside, kisses his mother goodnight and heads back up to his room. When he opens the door, he is mildly surprised to find Hiei still perched on his windowsill.
“Enjoyed yourself?” he inquires blandly as he closes the door and moves to his table. He can hear his mother down the hallway entering her own room and presumably making preparations for bed as well. Hiei grunts noncommittally and says nothing else.
Kurama hesitates at the table for a moment before continuing to the windowsill. Hiei draws his legs out of the way so that Kurama can lean on the sill, gazing out into the inky stillness that is swiftly descending on the neighbourhood.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Kurama asks, noticing the number of stars visible this night. Hiei doesn’t even make a sound in response, but Kurama catches the minute nod of his head.
Hiei is looking at him, and Kurama turns to smile at him. Sometimes, Kurama thinks that he understands Hiei better than anyone else, but sometimes, he also feels that Hiei is completely alien to him. This is one of those times when he cannot in the least grasp what Hiei is feeling. Watching Hiei turn his head away dismissively, Kurama cannot help but feel just a little hurt.
And suddenly, as Hiei brings his legs under him in a crouch, he cannot help but feel a little like a fool as well. Before Hiei can spring away and before he loses his nerve, he catches Hiei’s sleeve, slipping the rose he is carrying into Hiei’s hand.
“I’ll see you soon,” Kurama says, smiling again, because this time Hiei hasn’t dismissed him. This time, Hiei’s hand has closed around the rose convulsively and he is looking at Kurama in something like discomfited surprise and wonder. The same hand that is callused and hard from gripping a sword looks somewhat awkward holding the rose in such a vicious grasp, but it is Kurama’s rose, and it will not wither easily.
“Aa,” Hiei finally says, and completes his once-arrested leap into the darkness. Kurama watches him until he can see nothing more than darkness again, and only then does he close the curtains and return to bed.
The window remains open still, curtains billowing in the soft wind. An invitation.
Kurama hopes that one day, Hiei will take it.
Hiei doesn’t think he’ll ever comprehend this phenomenon of “emotions.” It is a concept so completely alien to him as to be a little frightening. He hadn’t ever thought he’d have the opportunity to feel any sort of emotion. Ever. He hadn’t ever intended to, had never wanted to. He has always planned on living without emotion, because that has always seemed the safest way to live.
The damned fox had just thrown a wrench into that plan.
But it’s only fair, Hiei thinks. Since the fox had clearly stolen Hiei’s emotions, it was only fair he pay him back by creating new ones. Time for the exodus to reverse.
Hiei opens his fist and looks at the rose lying there. He’s crushed the stem slightly but as he watches, it heals. The petals straighten slightly, the rose a vibrant red.
Red, like…
Hiei raises the rose and breathes in its aroma. It carries a familiar, secondary smell with it. One of blood.
Roses and blood.
Hiei cannot think of anything but how apt it is.
~fin
“You’re making a Noah’s Ark, Hao?”
The youthful shaman deigned to look up after a few moments, smiling as he saw Yoh standing before him, hands tucked in his pockets casually. There were weights around his wrists and ankles, probably chafing him most uncomfortably. Really, that Anna girl ought to treat his other self better, Hao thought, finally rising. “You noticed?”
Yoh was actually surprised that Hao had bothered to answer. He’d never even expected to come upon his twin while training, but he’d take any opportunity he could to talk to the boy who’d been occupying all his thoughts lately. “So, who’s the other human going to be?”
“Well, I was thinking I could take you with me, but that would pretty much defeat the purpose of things, wouldn’t it?” Hao smiled innocently.
“You’re teasing me…” Yoh’s voice trailed off suspiciously.
“You noticed?” Hao’s smile never wavered, and Yoh shook his head sadly.
“So then what are you planning to do with all these animals? Set up your own breeding farm?”
“Exactly right, my dear brother.” Hao picked up a cat and pushed it into Yoh’s arms. “I think he’ll grow into a fine stud, don’t you?”
“… Stop teasing me, Hao!”
“But you do set yourself up for it very nicely,” Hao protested. “To be truthful, I’m sending these animals on a little voyage.”
Yoh started at that, unconsciously cuddling the kitten to his chest. “A voyage?”
“Mm. An exodus of sorts. To a place I’ve managed to create for them.” Hao waved negligently at the assortment of animals around him. “I don’t have all species, but some of the most endangered ones are well represented. I won’t let them die.”
“You won’t, at that,” Yoh replied softly, suddenly and unaccountably sad. He stroked the softly purring kitten’s head with a gentle finger, only then realising that it wasn’t a domestic cat. It was definitely some sort of wild cat, if it’s firm, toothy grasp on Yoh’s finger was anything to go by.
“Ow,” Yoh commented idly, watching the cat dangle from his finger. Hao laughed and gently prised its jaws off.
“He’s really a sweet little thing. Just a little over-excitable at times,” Hao defended it, still smiling. Yoh shrugged.
“I never said I didn’t think he was gorgeous.”
“That’s a strong word to use,” Hao observed mildly.
Yoh chose to ignore that statement, asking a question that had been on his mind since he’d seen Hao. “So what are you doing here anyway?” Because Hao had never been sighted before in these parts, and there was no reason to suspect that he was staying anywhere near this area. So why would he bring his little menagerie here anyway?
“Well, I hear your inn has plenty of space,” Hao began, but was interrupted by a horrified screech from Yoh. Laughing, Hao attempted to placate his twin. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let them live there, I wouldn’t trust them to your fiancée.”
“Anna would probably make them do chores too,” Yoh commented dryly, recovering from his shock remarkably fast. Hao just barely managed to suppress a twitch at the thought.
“She probably would,” he agreed blandly. “To answer your question, I’m only here because it’s relatively quiet. Also because your power resonates with mine, which makes it easier for me to transport the animals.”
“Last question, if you don’t mind,” Yoh said after a moment. Hao nodded, eyes and lips curving in amusement.
“Are you going to hurt any of my friends? Or anyone here?”
At that, Hao opened his eyes to find Yoh suddenly deadly serious, dark eyes fixed on him unflinchingly. He considered the question for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
“Right now, they don’t interest me,” he murmured. “You’re the only one I’m interested in at the moment, Yoh… and I won’t kill you for now.”
Yoh stared at him for a few moments longer, before breathing out heavily in what might have been aggravation or relief. Visibly relaxing, he said, “That ‘for now’ isn’t very comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Hao said pleasantly. “And is that ghost related to you?”
“Eh?” Yoh looked behind him, coming face-to-face with a very familiar transparent figure. The ghost that haunted their house waved at him cheerily.
Yoh simply looked at the ghost for a moment, eyes blank. Then…
“Ahhh!! Anna’s going to kill me!”
~fin
So. Even if you don’t know all the fandoms… review? Please? ^_^;