A LITTLE DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters appearing in this fic are the property of Yoshihiro
Togashi, Studio Pierrot, Fuji TV, and Shonen Jump Weekly.
Kurama glanced up from his desk as he felt a familiar youki enter his room. Hiding a smile, he
turned to greet his friend. "Hiei."
The fire demon was sitting at his usual place on the windowsill, one leg drawn to his chest, the other dangling over the edge. He didn't answer, simply sat with his arms crossed and stared out into the night.
"Hiei?" Kurama approached his best friend, concern evident in his voice. Hiei didn't seem hurt, but one could rarely tell with him. It was better to ask anyway. "Daijoubu?"
The fire demon waited until Kurama had drawn nearer, to stand almost touching him. He turned to look at his youko friend, seeing the concern…concern for him. It touched something buried deep within him, something Hiei had thought himself rid of long ago. He ignored it, taking a deep breath. "Mukuro's called me. I have to go back to the Makai." He hesitated, unused to explaining his actions to anyone, or asking things of them.
Kurama's brow furrowed as he digested this. "How long will you be gone?" he asked.
His friend was quiet for a while. "As long as it takes," he eventually said, his voice a soft growl.
Kurama felt his heart sink. That meant that Hiei could be gone for months, even years. A certain part of his mind (and heart) shied violently away from the thought. It would be lonely without Hiei.
"What did she call you for?" Kurama asked quietly.
"There's been a rash of attacks on villages in her part of the Makai. It's probably because of that." Hiei was quiet for a moment. "I've heard rumors that the leader of the attacks is an S-class. Strong enough to rival Mukuro."
Kurama watched his friend worriedly. He knew Hiei had a reckless streak that could - and had - gotten him badly wounded in the past. That was what had cost the youkai the Makai Tournament. Kurama winced inwardly, remembering the night Hiei had dragged himself - literally - into his room after reciting Mukuro's history to her; something never attempted by even the most suicidal youkai. "Let me go with you." The words were out before he could consider them, but meant nonetheless.
The fire demon looked at him. "No way fox. I…I need you here to look after Yukina." Hiei looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided against it. He was already uncomfortable asking a favor of this nature. Giving him a plant to trap the slave trader in was one thing. This time Hiei was asking the youko to guard something infinitely more precious for him.
Kurama wanted to argue, but the look in Hiei's red eyes stopped him. He understood what the youkai was asking, and appreciated the gift of trust awarded him, but…It was the expression in Hiei's eyes. For the tiniest instant, the fire demon allowed Kurama to see into his soul - to see the pleading and worry there. He lowered his head, crimson locks falling forward to hide his face as he surrendered. "Hai. Wakarimasu."
He felt Hiei rise to leave. "Ki o tsukette ne, Hiei."
"Hn." In a flash of black, Hiei was gone.
Kurama reached over and shut the window, leaning forward to rest his head against the cool glass. He trusted Mukuro about as far as he could throw her, knowing that she probably had plans for Hiei that didn't have anything to do with ruling. He raised his eyes to look out in the direction Hiei had gone. Face it Kurama, he told himself. You're jealous of the hold Mukuro has over him - you're afraid Hiei will begin to enjoy being with Mukuro more than you. You're scared he won't come back.
Kurama laughed bitterly. Four hundred years as a youko and he'd had all the lovers a youkai could want. Seventeen years as a human and the one thing he'd once thought impossible had happened; the unstealable stolen from under a master thief's nose. By a short-tempered runt of a fire demon who'd made it clear that he considered love to be on the same level of the Makai flu, no less.
A calm voice repeated itself in the back of his mind, urging him to tell the Koorime how he felt. As if he wasn't glaringly obvious already. Kurama groaned. The fire demon would probably give him one of his specialized how-the-hell-did-that-happen-you-stupid-fox glares that he did so well.
Returning to his desk, Kurama stared blindly at the homework before him. Life would go on, his youko side argued. Then why did life suddenly seem so empty?