He could hear it - the soft pitter patter of water droplets upon the roof. There was a resounding echo too, perhaps caused by drops landing onto the hollow stone statues lining the temple. His shouji doors were open, just a crack, allowing him to take note of the sent outside. He opened his emerald eyes slowly. The room was dimly lit and other then what was mentioned, completely silent.

The young man sat up, crimson tresses clinging to his neck and spilling like blood down his back. He glanced at the clock on his dresser; 9:30 a.m. There was no point in going back to sleep at this time. He lifted himself and took a few minutes to change clothes. He didn’t bother buttoning his white blouse all the way and didnt even consider brushing out his untamed hair.

Opening the door to the porch completely he stepped outside. As he’d presumed it was raining. The humanized fox took in a deep breath and sighed. At least it’s not sunny out…

If truth be told he liked the gray clouds above far more then he did clear blue skies. It was dark, yet not so much that he was unable to see. To him this type of weather was perfect; perfect in the sense it reflected who he really was. He placed a hand onto the cool wooden beam supporting the shingles over his head. It was far too early in the morning to be thinking of such things… and yet, he couldn’t help it.

It was fated from the start of his new existence that he’d suffer unparallel internal conflict. His own life had been put in jeopardy out of the severe-ness of it. He’d fought Shigure, battling the surgeon as well as himself. The demon he faced off could even see how he was distracted and detached. He’d emerged from the fight Shuichi Minamino but was being supported by Yomi, a piece of his counterpart’s past.

Have you forever deserted yourself as Yoko?

His response to the blind king was honest no doubt, but showed him he could never escape who he once was.

Oh no, I never leave anything behind. I never have.

I never have and I never will…He added onto the comment in his mind. He was trapped torn between two selves forever, Yoko and Shuichi. Combined he took the name Kurama, always trying to figure out which was his true side and which was a lie. He thought he’d figured it out, the moment the cherry blossoms had bloomed bringing Shigure to his end. But Yomi had ruined it brining back the memories of his past.

Yoko was real.

But his mother, when he’d spoken with her he knew Shuichi was real too.

And then seeing Yusuke and Hiei running towards him, he was a third person. Kurama.

Was it possible to be all three? And yet it’s not as though there were three different voices in his head, there was only one… one belonging to whom? He clenched his fists trying to shake away the contemplations. And to think, this was in the faint shroud of the rain, he didn’t even want to think of what it would be like in the sun’s rays.

His flaws, his confusion, layers upon layers of deceit, so much so that he didn’t even know who he was…

It was a good thing it was raining…

The kitsune slipped on his shoes leaping down off the porch and onto the soggy green grass. He didn’t mind getting wet; soon he’d be in the shelter of clustered trees. He ceased his movements for a second and closed his eyes; tilting back his head he felt the water droplets on his face.

In the back of his mind he hoped it would help wash away the caked and confused emotions he had locked up inside.

Maybe if I don’t move…He shook the idea away before it could form completely, he shouldn’t be out in this weather. If he caught a cold his mother would be worried. He didn’t want to inconvenience her with having to take care of her son if she didn’t need to. He opened his deep eyes again and returned to his task of going into the thick forest surrounding the temple.

Within the next few minutes he was concealed from the rain by the low hanging heavily leafed branches of towering, ancient trees. The natural light dropped to almost nothing, not that he took notice. He continued along his way until he came across a well secluded area that was for the most part dry.

This was his haven. Many different types of plants littered the ground, rooted in a pattern that gave each individual space. Kurama reached behind him and pulled a small seed from the locks of his hair. He tossed it down and it quickly bloomed into a glowing yellow flower that provided him with a bit more light. 

The fox sat down in something close to a swing made of knotted vines that hung between two of the larger trees circling the refuge he’d created years before. A small drop of water plopped down in front of him. He closed his eyes again, listening to the faint sound of the rain above his canopy of leaves.

It’s so peaceful… A small smile traced his pleasant features before he leaned back, resting against the bark of an oak. He reopened his eyes moments later, lifting his arm. Summoning his power he moved the branches above him allowing the rain to feed his plants. After a minute or two he let the braches fall into place, stopping the downpour.

His gaze wandered, landing on his lamp weed. It too was now wet, but that didn’t stop it from glistening. The water on the other vegetation reflected its light as well, illuminating the haven even more. It was brighter, however darkness still remained. Kurama was thankful for this.

Darkness was as much as blessing as light to him. Together they had a balance and created dimness. Not white and not black, but gray - a gray that helped to hide the lies and truth, yet not completely.

Kurama hated the light, only because he could see everything in it. All the good and all the bad, brought forward and clearly visible. He could see all his faults, see the lies, and see the dreadful tangles he’d made in weaving his own fate. In the light he hated himself.

He hated the darkness too. He was blind, unable to see the good or the bad. In the darkness there were things that lurked, and while he stumbled around he created an even larger torrent of tangles. He was helpless and he hated that feeling, he hated himself for not being able to prevent it.

So there was only one option left, to find something in-between the light and the dark. A thin cloth that covered the brightness and at the same time did not cloak him in black. It was not the night, not the middle of the day. It was neither, just a combination- the rain.

Not Yoko, not Shuichi, he too was a combination- Kurama. So in a way he was the rain, torn between two completely separate states of being… and like the rain, he was his own self. He had his own name, his own behaviors and his own intentions.

Kurama stood and cast a glance at his plants before walking away, back into the forest. He figured that it wasn’t too chilly and that it would be alright to stand out in the rain, if only for a little while. And even if he did catch a cold, it would be worth it. He’d have an excuse not to go out into the day, into the light, and not venture into the night, into the darkness. Perhaps his health would improve in time for the next rainy day…