Armageddon: World's End
chapter 1
by Kristin Huntsman
Armageddon: Worlds' End part 1
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I walk into the room, hardly knowing where I am, and not caring if I am given an answer. Set in one corner of the empty room is a white bed. Someone sleeps on it; I walk over to see who.
Two someones, actually, the second so slight as to be hidden behind the first. I gently sit down on the edge of the bed, wanting to examine them in their sleep. Both are young men, and look innocent in their rest. The first, the larger of the two, has long red hair that spills across the white covers. He is fair, with long lashes and a delicacy about him that makes him look almost feminine. He is not overly large, perhaps around 5'10". I can see that his form is not heavily muscular, though the lines of his body betray that he is agile and as graceful as a cat. I absently wonder what he dreams of.
Lying next to his head, on the silken mass of his hair, is a single red rose. I pick it up, wondering where he got it. Its crimson is the color of fresh blood, the blood that its thorns would draw from my fingers were I not wary of them. It is also the color of his hair. When I think of him, I always think of roses, not soley because they were his weapon of choice, but because they seem to be him. A beautiful flower, appealing to the eye, but with thorns ready to stab those who would take it or harm it. In the green outfit he wears now, he appears to be a rose physically as well. A slender green stem, with a splash of perfect red crowning it. I smile and place the rose on his hair again.
I let my glance wander to the other inhabitant of the bed. Him I know as well. He rests now, and to see him in this peace is startling. But even now, like this, his warlike nature shows; in his sleep, he holds a sword and its sheath in his arms, no doubt ready to wake and kill in a split-second. His speed, like so many things about him, is inhuman. As an example, his headband lies next to him on the bed, abandoned. The third eye in the center of his forehead that it usually covers is plainly visible. Closed, but not hidden.
In his sleep he looks very small, even more so than normal; his height barely stretches to five feet, if that. And in his sleep, he is curled into a ball, lying next to the other occupant of the bed. That and the absence of the control that normally guards his stony face make him seem very small, very young, very vulnerable.
He has abandoned his normal attire due to the hot weather; his cloak is gone, and he wears a tanktop in its place. I smile, noting that even in the heat he refuses to wear anything other than black.
My gaze flickers back to the first youth as his breathing betrays his waking. His ivy eyes slowly open, focusing even more slowly on me.
"Kuwabara-kun?" he asks sleepily.
I smile. "Go back to sleep, Kurama," I tell him. "They haven't found us yet, and Urameshi won't try to come back until nightfall."
"Okay," he murmurs softly, his eyes closing again. I watch for a few minutes, until I am satisfied that he sleeps once more, then quietly leave the room, going to the other. My stomach growls, and I tell it to stop, annoyed. I sit down and sigh. I hope Urameshi was able to find supplies. I hope he'll make it back safely. I hope... I don't know what I hope anymore.
We're dying. That much I know for certain. Our energy is drained from running and constant battles, and we never manage to find enough food to replace it. Every day is a struggle to survive. During the stretches of time like this - silence, endless waiting for them to find us again - we slowly fade more and more.
When the lords of the Makai finally decided together to destroy the Reikai and invade the Ningenkai for once and for all, we were on the first wave of defense. We fought well, but were no match for the overwhelming onslaught of youkai against us. So many fell in that first battle.... Those of us who survived were very badly injured. We could do nothing but watch helplessly as the Ningenkai was destroyed. We now have no idea where our loved ones are. Kurama is lucky in that respect, I think bitterly. His mother, step-father, and brother had been rescued by a friend of his, and are being kept safe in a stronghold of the Makai. It hadn't cost him much - just his powers. I had seen tears in his eyes when he had bid his family farewell, choosing to come with us, even though it meant he'd probably never see them again. Even though it had meant that he would probably die. I had known in that moment what true friendship was.
He hadn't recovered from the loss of his powers, but never referred to it, and never complained. If we ran faster than he could, he simply redoubled his efforts, to keep up with us at all costs. In repayment for the loss of his plants, he'd become an incredible archer, and mastered every weapon he came across. It was only sometimes, late at night, when I woke during his watch, that I saw him admit to his pain, silently crying as he caressed a plant and it didn't respond to his touch. I did then all that a friend could do: was there for him.
During our periods of scouting for new hiding places, Hiei was invaluable. After Yukina was killed, he drew even more into himself. He had loved her more than any brother had ever loved a sister, to my surprise. I had never even known that he was her brother until he cried over her dead body. He had buried her, taking as his legacy from her the necklace she had always worn, the tear their mother had wept as Yukina was born.
My beloved Yukina had known in that last moment that he was her brother. She had thanked the heavens that she had a brother who had always protected her, and quietly asked the two of us to make peace with her last breath. I have never hated Hiei since, and have one of the black gems that he cried at her death. Another had been in her hand as she was buried.
Yukina had been at Genkai's temple with the rest of our families. We had made a last-ditch attempt to fight the Makai there. I wonder where my sister and parents are. I wonder what had happened to Urameshi's mother, and I wonder what happened to Keiko. I don't think that I want to know. If I did, I would have to tell Urameshi. I had known him and Keiko for years, and Keiko would never have been able to stand up to youkai. She was brave, but essentially a normal girl. I fear that the worst had happened to her-- rape, and then death.
My parents I know in my heart are dead. There was no way they would have survived. But Shizuru and Atsuko I hold a flicker of hope for. One of the other bands of survivors we had run into had told us that they might have been taken to a concentration camp. The two of them might have survived. At least-- I hope so.
Looking up from my thoughts, I see that the sun has set, and night has fallen. I would have once lit a fire in the small cabin to light it, but fire can be seen from great distances. Instead, I concentrate, and surround myself with a soft yellow glow. Living on the run has forced me to become an even better fighter than I was before, and learning how to use my powers better has been a part of it. I look up as the door opens.
Urameshi is there.
"Get anything?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah." He sits down crosslegged in front of me. "It's right outside the door. How are they?"
"Sleeping."
"Is Kurama--?"
I shake my head sadly. "He's not getting any better. The loss of his powers took something out of him that can't be replaced."
"Damn. I'd give him mine if I could. Hiei?"
"The same. Dreaming of Yukina, I think. He looked peaceful, anyway."
"We're not going to die, Kuwabara," Urameshi says fiercely, reading my thoughts. "We're not!"
The one talent that Urameshi has always had is being a leader. Nearly two years of hard living has honed this ability to a sharp edge. I believe him now because he leaves me no choice. I have to believe that we will survive. He needs me to.
I nod. "Let's go get the stuff you found."
Silently, we walk to the door and bring in what he has scavenged, which is enough to keep us all alive for another day.
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Author's Message: My name is Kristin Huntsman, and I am responsible for many other horrible fictions, including Kurama 1/2. Armageddon is my first attempt at "sturm und drang," as my friend Sandy puts it, fiction. Please, I would like your comments. My true address (this is my BF's, and I only get to visit him every few months) is 71411.1046@compuserve.com. Thank you for reading this far, and I hope you enjoyed the beginning of this story.