He was in youko form. But why?

A detached part of him recognized his dream, and that same part wondered why he wasn’t in human form; why his dreams didn’t follow their usual pattern - patterns that usually involved Hiei very, very intimately. The thought brought a brief smile, but the feeling of a strange youkai’s approach banished it; he adopted a quick defensive posture, drawing a rose from the silvery waves of his hair. It wasn’t Hiei; he knew the feeling of his lover’s presence to well to believe this approaching stranger was him.

Through the swirls of mist, a slender figure appeared, almost as tall as he was, with the same graceful ears and long, swishing tail as he, marking the other as one of his kind. The closer it approached, the less worried he became; it was only a B-Class, someone he could easily beat, should the dream take him to a fight. He straightened, but kept a firm grip on the rose, narrowing his eyes, trying to see better through the mist. “Dare da?” he called harshly, crossing his arms over his chest, fingers lightly caressing the stem around its sharp little thorns.

Female laughter, icy and faraway, echoed all around him; startled, he cocked a soft ear to one side, then frowned as the voice trailed off, leaving him without his answer. He repeated his question, and once more only got the whispery laugh in reply. He was about to whirl on his heel, to leave this strange place in disgust, flee back to his human body, when the other youko appeared, her face and image clear for him to see.

Tallish, slender, black-haired, dark-eyed ... with a long, intricate scar running down the side of her face. He gaped, startled at the transformation; the scar confirmed her identity, but he had never seen her so self-assured, so confident in herself. He forced his throat to work, trying to talk against the lump that shock had created there. “A ... Ayame?” he asked, the name he had been trying to remember not a week before suddenly clicking into place. “Ayame?”

She smiled, and it was nothing like the reedy, quick smile he remembered. “Kurama,” she said softly, eyeing him closely. “It’s been a long time.” One slender hand reached out, as if to touch his cheek, then stopped, bare centimeters away from his flesh. He didn’t flinch away, merely watched her with his hooded golden eyes, unmoving. “Did you miss me?”

One fine silver eyebrow rose, the corners of his lips twitching as if to repress a smile; still, he said nothing, and his passiveness was beginning to annoy her. She circled around him slowly, admiring the slight changes that had been wrought in his body over time; he was infinitely more powerful than the last time she had seen him - but at the same time, he was terribly weaker; life as a human had changed him nearly beyond recognition.

His voice, deep and unchanged, suddenly rent the stillness of the air, startling her, though she covered up beautifully, dancing back so that she could stand and face him. “Does it matter whether or not I missed you? I don’t know how you managed to bring me here -” he gestured to the gloomy surroundings - “but I hope you don’t mind if I leave now.” He made a move, as if to turn away, to vanish again, only to be stopped by a small hand on his arm. He looked back at her; noted the seductive smile with a disdainful twist to his fine features, pulling his arm away, when she did the most startling thing so far.

She threw herself at him.

The sudden addition of her weight caught him off-guard and sent him off-balance, stumbling backwards awkwardly, trying to dislodge her arms from around his neck. The action was so unlike the quiet Ayame he had once known, he found himself at a loss for what to do, his mind stumbling over the surprise; she had never been this aggressive, never so eager, and while he might have appreciated the fact once, he was now fully committed to another - another whom he would never be able to bring himself to betray. He tried to wrest free, protesting with incoherent words as she tried to kiss him.

Suddenly, the girl above him froze, but he was stuck in his position; he might have been the physically stronger, but she was like a leech - she clung to him desperately, refusing to be pried off. Small, surprisingly cold fingers worked at getting white cloth out of the way, until her sudden immobilization. He let out a small sigh of relief, then once more tried to pull her off, tilting his head upwards to see who had saved him from hurting her.

Hiei!

The small, black Koorime stared down at him with cold red eyes, though they softened, almost imperceptibly, at the look of relief on Kurama’s face. He had been watching, hidden in the shadows and mist, as the youko girl he had confronted earlier had thrown herself onto his lover, clinging to him like any of the girls from Meiou High had dreamed of doing. An unheard snarl burst from his lips as the girl had attempted to capture the silver youko’s lips, and when Kurama fell, he made his move, unsheathing his katana and appearing in front of them, the deadly tip of the blade pressed against the vulnerable flesh of her cheek.

“What the hell,” he said with terrifying, quiet calm, “do you think you’re doing?”

The girl let out a startled hiss, sounding more like a cat than a fox, and drew up a little, allowing him to see Kurama’s face, and the burst of relief that crossed there, as the prone youko began to struggle to pull the clingy girl off of him. Her black ears were pressed against her hair in a gesture of anger and fear, and sharp little teeth were revealed between pulled-back lips. She looked like one of those mindless vampires from the late-night horror movies Yuusuke sometimes watched, and the insane gleam in her dark eyes only helped that notion.

“He’s mine,” she squealed at him, curling her fingers into the cloth of Kurama’s white tunic, the fox underneath her wincing as the sharp points of her claws dug into his ribs, as well. “I am only taking back what is mine.” Spots of red began to appear, where her nails had slashed the fine skin, but it seemed only Hiei noticed. She was too busy raving, and Kurama was regarding her with something close to horror. The child was insane; there was no doubt of that.

“MINE!” she wailed, and buried her face in the crook of Kurama’s neck, cutting her cheek as she did, the soft flesh parting easily under the tip of Hiei’s katana. It took all his willpower not to ram the blade into her prone, shaking body; there was too much of a danger that it would pass into Kurama, and kill them both. There was silence in the strange place, except for Ayame’s near-hysterical sobs.

Hiei backed off slightly, allowing Kurama space to sit up, then knelt beside his lover, helping him undo the tightly woven mesh of the black youko’s fingers, pushing her away, where she collapsed in a heap. The pretense of self-assurance was gone; she was once more the same, broken creature Hiei had confronted earlier. Wordlessly, he proffered his hand to Kurama, and frowned when the youko waved it off, opting instead of lean forward and call the girl’s name, quietly. “Ayame?”

She looked up, her face a twisted, hideous mask, blood and tears mixing to create something horrible, terrifying. Her voice was a low, monotonous drone as she spoke, staring straight into Kurama’s eyes, unblinking. “You were wrong,” she hissed softly, reaching out with a shaking hand, as if to touch his face, then dropping it back down to support her trembling body. “You were so wrong. You said I’d forget. I tried to forget, but I couldn’t. You lied to me. To me! You said I’d forget ... but I didn’t. You ruined me, but I forgave you for that. I never forgot you, and when you were gone, so was my life!” Her voice rose to a piercing shriek, and she burst to her feet, sending Kurama rocking back onto his haunches, in a crouched defensive position. He was ready for nearly any attack, but was startled to feel his body shrink, reverting from his familiar youko form to the more current body of Minamino Shuuichi.

And then, with another loud, animal scream, she summoned the same plants that had attacked him and his mother, three days before. One dove for him, and he just managed to leap out of the way; another chased after Hiei, but despaired of ever catching the swift little fire demon, then turned its attention back to Kurama, who continued leaping out of the way, despite the fact that the little poisoned wound in his shoulder had reawakened, and was sending fiercely complaining stabs of pain down his side. He stretched out his hand, tried to summon the Rose Whip, but nothing happened, and he blinked in shock.

Ayame tittered wildly, swaying in place, long stems of grass waving around her small body, lashing out against Hiei whenever he darted in for an attack, keeping her safe as any kekkai shield. “Welcome to the Dream World, my dear one,” she sing-songed, waving her hands wildly. “Here, I’m not a failure. I don’t have to worry about rejection. I control everything here, because I created this world. It’s all mine, and I can do what I wish with it, and the inhabitants.” She winked, then gestured, causing another small plant to shoot up from the ground, right in the spot Kurama had been standing mere seconds before. It chomped at the air furiously for a few minutes, then retreated into the ground again.

She watched Kurama dodge the plants for a while, then turned, slowly, to face Hiei. The small youkai was easily perched on a tree branch, watching her with hooded red eyes, waiting for any attack to be directed at him. She pointed one finger at him, grinning at him with insane cheerfulness. “You!” she snapped, her voice booming across the sky like thunder, “I challenge you!”

Hiei’s face revealed nothing, not fear, worry, or even curiosity. “And what is the prize?” he asked quietly, looking past her and watching a net of vines snagged Kurama, lifting the struggling redhead off the ground and suspending him in midair. Green eyes, wild with the involuntary hatred of being bound, flashed through the misty air, meeting Hiei’s red stare. They were pleading with him to ignore the challenge, to drop it, but he paid no heed, switching his attention back to Ayame, whose long black tail had begun to swish from side to side, as if in amusement.

“The prize?” She chuckled, as if finding the whole thing monstrously funny. “My dear little one, the prize is him!” She pointed behind herself, where Kurama was still thrashing in the vines’ grip, making small, gasping sounds as one thin tendril wrapped around his throat and squeezed lightly, cutting off his air supply until he sagged, unconscious.

Hiei watched the scene without any emotion on his face, but his eyes burned, promising heated retribution to the female who dared to try and take his Kurama. He nodded once, a curt, swift motion, accepting, and easily leapt down from the tree, moving with an unconscious feline grace, tossing his cloak to one side and lifting his blade in a sort of salute. Ayame nodded back, then raised both hands, hissed something unheard between clenched teeth, and smiled as Hiei leapt out of the way of the plants, slashing them easily, landing beside his handiwork. “You’ll have to try harder,” he told her calmly, seemingly bored.

“I will,” she assured him. “Hyah!”

This time, a huge plant, a demonic version of a Venus Flytrap, burst from the soft soil, jaws open wide, a long, tongue-like appendage snaking out to snap at his feet, which he also easily dodged. As he was distracted, her voice suddenly spoke in his head, soft and cruel, a calculating tone that vibrated through the inside of his skull.

You don’t love him enough; you can’t appreciate him. You’ve deceived yourself for a very long time - he’s not staying with you for love, he’s staying with you out of pity. He feels sorry for you, you who tried your hardest to drive away even the smallest spark of warmth in your life. He hates you - he hates you! He sees you as the trash you are, and despises everything you represent to him! You are a lonely, pathetic child - just I was. And you saw what he did to me - he left me! Vanished, left me alone and deprived ... so what makes you so sure he won’t do the same to you?

He froze under the endless litany, eyes wide, limbs trembling as they washed over him, bearing the ring of truth, battering him like a spider in a storm. She sent the lashing grass blades that surrounded her snapping out, aimed straight for his heart, and he jerked to the side, saving his life, but receiving a huge gash in his upper left arm, leaving the skin open straight to the bone. Her voice continued, mocking, telling him what he didn’t want to hear.

He doesn’t need your protection; he resents being tied to one lover only. How do you know he hasn’t strayed from you already? He hates you! He hates you!!

Accompanying the words were images; he saw Kurama talking warmly with a young woman, saw him lean forward to give her a kiss that lasted a little too long to be merely friendly. He watched Kurama dance with that same woman in some fancy party, saw that warm, loving smile, the one Hiei had always thought was saved for him alone, presented to others, was forced to watch as his lover betrayed him in thousands of small ways. He let out a pained sound, one that hovered between a moan and a scream, more out of mental anguish than the psychical pain that throbbed from his wounded arm.

And then, there was another, equally deep slashing pain in his other arm, forcing him to drop the katana. It fell silently to the ground, and Hiei fell with it, landing on his knees and staring up at the mist-shrouded figure with dying fire in his eyes. Blood trickled down, hot, scalding, from the open wounds, and there was something in the mist that stung, made the pain worse, burned and rubbed against the exposed bones.

And Ayame was still smiling, still laughing, even as she clasped her hands before her heart, in a parody of star-struck love. From the place where her hands were joined, a sickly blue light began, oddly reminiscent of Karasu’s bombs, and as he watched, a long, curved dagger, dark brown, like a rose thorn, appeared in her hands. From the expert way she swung it, she knew how to use it, and had no qualms about doing so. He tried to get to his feet, to fight back, and gritted his teeth as the pain swamped his senses, the pain so intense he nearly blacked out.

All around him, vines burst out, encasing him in a cocoon, unheeding of where they wrapped around him, one rubbing directly against the slash in his left arm. His teeth broke the skin of his lip, as he refused to let any sound of pain out, struggling weakly against his bindings, staring up at his killer with all the defiance he could muster. She would kill him now, and he could leave this world, where he had been betrayed by the only one he’d ever given his heart to ...

With a shriek that could have done any banshee proud, Ayame leapt, the curve of the knife sparking in the dim light, the deadly point aimed for his heart ...

... and then something clattered off the edge of the blade, knocking her off-balance. She let out a sound of surprise, twisting in midair so that her palm connected across Hiei’s upturned face in a harsh slap, rocking his head backwards. She landed in a low crouch, staring beyond Hiei with a look of disbelief, still gripping the thorn-blade in one hand. He twisted as much as he could, but all he could see, from the corner of his eye, was a hand withdrawing itself.

Kurama. Somehow, the fox had managed to get one hand loose, and thrown something, distracting Ayame from her intended target. The vines that held Hiei in place slithered back, like wounded dogs, and he turned slowly, meeting darkened green eyes, surrounded and veiled by a mass of damp red hair. One arm dangled limp and loose, the cloth of his sleeve torn, showing numerous small cuts adorning his pale skin; a matching set marred the side of his face, as if though he had lost an argument with a cat.

He searched those eyes, looking desperately for some sign, some gesture from his lover that what Ayame had told him was not true; he found concern, tenderness ... and deep anger. But that hostile glare didn’t fix upon him; it brushed past his prone figure and towards the dark-haired youko who crouched behind him, nervous and read for any attack. Hiei pushed himself up and winced once again, before closing his eyes and willing the hurt to go away and staggering to his feet, gripping the katana in one bloody little hand. Unsteadily, he walked over to where Ayame sat, never taking his eyes from hers.

The whispering began again, more softer and endearing than before, like a physical caress to his mind’s ear. He staggered, feeling a fresh jolt from his wounds, then shook his head, glowering at her. She was making a series of soft chirping sounds, like a young bird, and they seemed to blur his vision even more. He raised one hand with an effort; used it to rub lightly at his brow, above the Jagan, then tried desperately to focus.

He will leave you, one day. He’s youko. We never stay with one lover for too long, unless they happen to be one of our kind. They hate any other species; they see them as inferior. And you are. You are an insignificant creature, compared to the beauty and grace our kind has. He knows that, and he plots against you; he will leave you a shattered, broken shell, like he did with me ... why deny the truth? You can see it, hear it, you know it ... he will leave you, and you’ll be alone, like me ... all alone ...

Hiei murmured something incoherent; a denial, perhaps, and tried to raise his katana, though the sword felt like it weighed more than anything else he had ever attempted to lift. Coupled with the throb of his arms, the swimming of his head, and the confusion of his nerves, he couldn’t seem to control himself. It hurt, as if though her words were both soft and soothing, while forming a blade of pure agony at the same time. He didn’t know what to believe, or what to do, so he just stood there, frozen in indecision, allowing the girl to weave her spells around him.

Kurama watched the scene with growing horror; he had never seen Hiei so severely weakened, and briefly wondered what could have brought his usually strong lover so low. He began the struggle to escape from the fines anew, thrashing his free hand until it closed firmly around the vine at his neck and slipped his fingers around it. As if sensing his purpose, it began to tighten again, but he fought it, struggling to pull it away from him ... it seemed to take forever, but he finally succeeded. And if that piece had been the glue holding the whole net together, the other vines disentangled themselves and retreated back into the tree, dropping him heavily to the ground.

He landed with a thump, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs in one dizzy instant. Weakly, he sat up, pushing sweat-soaked and mist-damp hair from his face and eyes. Hiei was locked in place, his small body swaying slightly, as if dancing to some unheard music. Ayame was getting to her feet, the wicked dagger she had intended to use on Hiei glittering, catching his eye. Anger burned in him, white-hot and like a physical being, that she dared do this to Hiei; that she could - could make him into this weak creature so easily! He fought to get to his feet, his tattered arm feeling the stinging effects of the mist acutely. He ground his teeth, gathering nearly all his you-ki into one attempt, calling his favored weapon into being. The Whip was a comforting weight in his hands, and he uncoiled it with a single flick of his wrist, the end flipping like a dog’s tail.

Ayame startled when she saw this, then frowned, eyes narrowing; the two of them watched each other in silence, probing the other, waiting to see who would take the first offensive. She stood closer to his dazed lover, but his weapon was longer, and years of practice with it had honed his skills into something impressive; he could sending it lashing out, to block any attack; could use it to cut sharp as any knife. There was a growing silence between them, and then Ayame spoke.

“Why, Kurama?” she murmured, staring blankly at him. “Why? I loved you. I could have made you as happy as you made me. Why did you leave?”

He stared at her, not truly believing he had heard her correctly. “Why did I leave you?” he repeated the question in his own words. “I had many reasons, Ayame. But the foremost was that you were trying to cage me in; you tried to keep me for yourself. Silvers are nothing like Blacks, little one; while you crave privacy, we crave freedom. While you wish to horde what you own, we wish to share it with the world. I never loved you, little one; you could only ever be a friend. Never anything more.”

“But -” her eyes widened, then darkened with tears. “But ...”

“No buts.” He said it firmly. “I ... I have someone already.” He spared a glance at Hiei, noting that the Koorime seemed to be recovering. “He ... he is worth everything to me. Aside from Hiei, there is no one else I would sacrifice my soul for. My other friends, my teammates, they own my life, yes, but only he has my soul. He’s the only one who drives me to do crazy things; he’s the only one who could get me all dewy-eyed and happy, like any stupid girl child in her first love.” He eyed her sternly. “Like you.”

Hiei had managed to get to his feet, and was now tottering towards Kurama, red eyes wide in what seemed to be shock; Kurama had told him of love, many times, but never so eloquently. He stumbled, and almost fell, when strong arms easily caught him, lowered him gently towards the ground. With his head pillowed on Kurama’s shoulder, he could see the fox’s face clearly, and read the emotion that resided in every word. Ayame’s whisperings had been lies, and like all lies, they withered and faded away in the light of the truth. He wanted to touch Kurama’s face, to banish those scratches that ran down his cheek, but he felt completely lethargic, unable to move.

“No ...” Ayame’s voice carried a note of disbelief, and terrible sadness as she watched the scene play out. “Never ...” The dagger grew several inches in her hand, the edge becoming visibly sharp, the edges cutting into her flesh. She stood there, unfeeling as blood trickled down her hand, in the same wayward patterns that dried blood crisscrossed over Hiei’s arms. “You ... YOU ARE MINE! MINE!” she howled, and drew her hand back, throwing the dagger at him.

Kurama narrowed his eyes; instead of dodging or anything, he faced the oncoming weapon, ignoring Hiei’s weak protests as he watched death speed towards him. And then, with a sudden movement, Kurama’s arm snapped out and his wrist flickered easily, sending the long, spiny green tendril flipping outwards, meeting and deflecting the thorn in midair, deflecting it. It was easy, after that, to summon plants that herded the flying item back to its sender in a boomerang sort of effect. Ayame had the time for one brief scream as the dagger pierced her shoulder, sent her flying back to lie prone on the ground. Kurama gently laid Hiei’s head on the ground and stood, and walked towards her body, easily batting away her desperate attempts to summon plants to trap him. He stood over her body and stared at her, into the face of shattered grief and almost mindless eyes. And yet, despite all she had done, he felt no anger towards her; merely pity. She might have been right; human life might have softened him considerably, but it made him stronger, too. Strong enough to set aside the petty grudges and sadness that ruled her life. He knelt by her head and touched her face; she watched him suspiciously, flinching under his light touch.

“We all have a destined road in life,” he told her softly. “Yours was unduly rough, with twists and unexpected turns that nearly broke you, though none of the blame rests with you. You are strong; you can pull yourself back together and restart down your path, but only if you want to.” He touched his fingers to his lips and pressed them to her forehead. “Grow, learn from what has happened, become stronger, and find another, who can fully share himself with you,” he said gently, then rose to his feet and started to walk back to Hiei.

Ayame sobbed softly, then took a few deep breaths, her thin chest heaving, and then she calmed. Kurama took more note of her, kneeling beside his lover and lifting him slightly. “Are you all right?” he asked gently, stroking dark hair from Hiei’s eyes, rubbing lightly where the dark blood had stained his lover’s perfect skin. Hiei nodded, his eyes clouding briefly at the pain even Kurama’s light touch, then focused in a sudden clear instant.

“Damn it! Move!” he snarled, shoving Kurama out of the way and throwing himself atop his lover as Ayame’s thorn blade came crashing down. Any sanity had completely deserted her, and spittle dripped from her lower jaw, like any mad dog. From deep in the back of her throat came various gurgles, howls, and shrieks that rose the hair on the back of Kurama’s human neck.

“Well?” Hiei demanded, eyeing the other youko uneasily. “Aren’t you going to kill her?”

“No.”

“NANI?!” he demanded, whirling to face sad, knowing green eyes that looked past him and at the creature that Ayame had digressed into.

“I ... I can’t. I’m responsible for her condition, in a way, and I can’t bring myself to kill her. Call it my human weakness,” he said with a bitter laugh, “but I feel pity for her, and therefore, I can’t kill her. It’s like destroying a part of myself. She was one of many mistakes; many regrets. I ... I can’t.”

“Hn.” Hiei broke away from his lover, and raised his katana. Ayame shrieked again, mindlessly, and blindly rushed him, brandishing the dagger like a flail, cutting and slashing blindly. Her mouth opened for another deafening cry ...

... which turned into a gurgling moan as she stopped dead, looking down at herself in surprise. Buried deep within the dead center of her chest, was a good three feet of cold steel, slicing through skin and muscle, to protrude from the other side. The foam at her mouth turned pink as she slid limply off the blade, staring up at Hiei in confusion and surprise. “Na ... nani?” she murmured, like a confused child.

Hiei bent down close to her, taking her shoulders, grasping them tightly, forcing her to meet his eyes again. “Let me tell you something,” he said softly to her, in a tone so low that Kurama would not be able to hear, despite his close range.

“Kurama is MINE.”

With that fierce statement, he ripped his sword from her chest, causing her to pitch forward. With a disdainful frown, he wiped the blood off on her clothing, noting that the blackness of the cloth hid the bloodstains beautifully. He sheathed the sword and rejoined his lover, even as the world around them blurred, and vanished into the darkness of deep sleep.